October 27, 2023
I was conflicted last year when I hit the student-athlete alumni tent. I felt like female voices in the athletic community weren’t a priority for the University of Pennsylvania. I put that disappointment to the side and went anyway. I wanted to take my husband and football-loving kids to a game with my lifelong friends and their families. Being able to show my kids Franklin Field, where mommy played, would be a personal win, and I choose to grab that small victory while they still believed I’m cool.
The kids waved their pompoms and cheered while we caught up with old friends. They high-fived the Quaker and the players, and we all felt some small fraction of pride, reminiscent of what we felt on that field as students 15 years prior.
And then the day took a turn. A group of students stood to the side waiting for their moment to hit the field at half time. They were ushered through, and they stood on the 50 yard line, where they stayed and refused to leave. They were protesting global warming. Security stood by, and police officers arrived. The kids all got frightened. Instead of questions about who the Quaker was, what the score was, and where mommy played, we had to talk about why the police were there, why the students were screaming, and why the game had stopped. And then why we had to leave. It was a disappointing day, and it felt as if the adults in charge allowed and even ushered the mid-field tantrum. Who cares about the entire stadium of fans and alumni? There was a message to get across.
The alumni emails for homecoming this year came out in September, and as usual, my best friends started a group chat to see about making plans. Again, conflicted because of my experience last year, I waited to consider it. And then the events on Oct. 7 occurred in Israel. A terror attack so violent, disturbing and heartbreaking that I question life and humanity itself.
What I didn’t expect was the rallies of people around the world exhilarated by the actions of terrorists who raped women and paraded them in the streets; who burned families alive; who kidnapped children from their beds, still in their pajamas, after murdering family members in front of them. The list of atrocities is long, but the reason is singular: because they were Jews. As parades of students filled Locust Walk, I became heartbroken at the thought of what it would feel like to be Jewish on campus. I was shocked when the administration stayed silent. I cringed when the communications came out and glaringly missed the mark. Worse, they started coming through as defensive and defiant.
Free speech? More like, curated messaging.
Don’t forget, we all were watching when the university muzzled the women’s swim team in 2021. We don’t forget that they weren’t allowed to speak to the press about being uncomfortable in their locker rooms. We remember their options were to shut up or quit. The university took a position, and they let it be known.
We are now watching the university take another position. The only way to interpret the lack of immediate condemnation of Hamas and of these pro-Hamas rallies is that the University of Pennsylvania prefers the messaging, as is.
This is a world-renowned educational institution: If they wanted a different message, they would have one. These are curated and intentional.
With the memory of the last homecoming in my mind, I play out this years’ protesting on the field. I hear the chants of "River to the Sea" and my heart races. I will not take my pizza-bagel husband to Penn’s campus, and I will not take my children to a place filled with hate and antisemitism. "Home" is where we all feel safest. Not a single Jewish student or alumni can possibly feel safe at Penn.
Jamie Cortina graduated from the University of Pennsylvania in 2008, where she was a student athlete. She now lives in Bucks County with her husband, three sons, dog and a rotating house of foster animals for BCSPCA, Roadogs, Almost Home Dog Rescue, and Home at Last.
