The independent news organization of Duke University
Often minimized, if not lost, in this conversation is the moral argument for educational justice—incarcerated people are, like the rest of us, entitled to free public education.
We know ourselves by knowing where we came from.
Duke does not love us. Perhaps it’s time we reciprocate.
Given the violent contestations over land and economic power endemic to the post-Civil War United States, Hamer’s efforts were nothing short of radical.
Every day we sanitize our institution’s history we compound the consequences that will surely become its legacy.
I’ve recently been the unwilling participant in a (not-so) mysterious game against myself. The game, which has lasted a few weeks now, is simple: at every moment I am equally as likely to sob as I am to emit a (loud) cross between a chuckle and a cackle.
Last Wednesday, Duke notified GoTriangle that it refused to sign on to one of Durham’s largest-ever mass transit infrastructure projects, the Durham-Orange light rail.
On February 13th, 1969, tear gas hung thick in the air outside of the Allen Building. More than one hundred local police officers and National Guard troops had been called in to bring order to the protest; dozens of white students stood nearby to support their classmates.
As volunteer advocates at the Community Empowerment Fund (CEF), a nonprofit that works with individuals toward goals of financial independence, we often work alongside justice-involved community members (those who have come into contact with any part of the criminal justice system) who routinely confront a society that continues to punish them long after they leave detention in the criminal-legal system.
We are the beneficiaries of this inequality. We are implicated in its persistence.
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