Sitting in my childhood bedroom, my mouse hovered over a single button: “View Admission Status Update.”
The moment carried immense weight for me. UT Austin has been my dream school since I was 13 years old. The stress of college application season had been all-consuming, and the possibility that my family might have to help fund a private or out-of-state education weighed on all of us.
I always imagined UT to be the opposite of the sheltered corner of Dallas where I grew up — a dynamic community with a rich history of activism, rigorous academics, and a student body that was unafraid to make their voices heard. UT represented so much more than a college degree. It was a place where I would receive an unparalleled education because of this diversity of people and thought.
I cried tears of joy when I saw the burnt orange confetti on my screen.
Politics has always played a central role in my life. Growing up, my family instilled in me a fierce belief in speaking up about issues we believed were unjust and in paying attention to politics and the world around us. Our home was filled with books about places, people, and movements that had shaped the world, and dinner table conversations often turned into debates about current events, history, or the decisions made by those in power.
When I came to college, I thought those same ideas would be promoted — or at the very least protected.
But when I arrived on campus in the fall of 2023, it was clear higher education had become a political target.
Shortly after I arrived on campus, Senate Bill 17 took effect. The law sought to ban diversity, equity, and inclusion programs at Texas public universities. The effect was immediate and the layoffs came swiftly. Dozens of staff members that worked in vital student-support positions across campus were let go.
The pressure on free speech only intensified. In the spring of my freshman year, Texas students joined a national movement, taking to campus lawns to support Palestinian human rights and demand divestment of university funds that supported genocide. I watched as state troopers violently attacked peaceful protesters.
My friends had gone to exercise their rights to free speech and peaceful protest. Instead, they were met with tear gas from state officers. My phone blew up with emergency alerts from the university ordering students to disperse or face legal and academic consequences. Family and friends back home texted in horror as the South Lawn turned into a national news story.
From the Vietnam War to South African Apartheid, college campuses have long served as the epicenter of protest and change in American history. The response from Texas lawmakers made a mockery of this legacy and of free speech in general.
Soon after, politicians passed Senate Bill 2972, the “Campus Protection Act,” which restricts students’ constitutional right to free speech by limiting who can attend protests, when demonstrations can occur, and even what students are allowed to wear.
Now, yet another wave of censorship has rippled across campuses across Texas. Separate departments like Women, Gender, and Sexuality Studies, African American Studies, and Mexican American and Latino Studies have been condensed into a single department — reducing staff tenure and eliminating majors and minors entirely. Professors are being told to avoid controversial topics in their classes. I thought the point of college was to engage with controversial topics–not silence them.
What once felt like a campus defined by activism and debate has been increasingly shaped by institutional restrictions and government pressure. And this isn’t unique to UT. The crackdown on academic freedom and free speech has rippled across Texas and the nation. Students and faculty have grown fearful and disillusioned.
And yet, I love the school I attend.
I love lounging on the South Mall under the iconic UT tower on sunny days — the same spot where generations of Texas students before me have gathered to protest, organize, and demand change.
I love sitting in the cramped classrooms of Mezes Hall, home of the government department — where I’ve learned that education is about listening to diverse perspectives, challenging ideas, and questioning the world around you.
Texas is a diverse and vibrant state — home to students and faculty of every race, gender, and religion. We all have the right to freely learn, teach, and explore ideas, no matter our backgrounds or beliefs. Texas students deserve a high-quality education that prepares us for our futures.
Our ability to learn, protest, and speak freely is the foundation of higher education and our democracy.
So Texas students: Know your rights. Learn them, defend them, and exercise them. Visit the ACLU of Texas’ University Student Protest Toolkit to learn more.
The promise I saw in that first burst of burnt orange confetti — a university where students are free to speak, question, and challenge the status quo — is a promise worth fighting for.