Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Georgetown University’s Newspaper of Record since 1920

The Hoya

Butler: The Beginnings of a New Voice for Student Rights

Butterscotch cake. Delicious, three-layer butterscotch cake with homemade frosting and all the works. That’s what I’m here to talk to you about today. Not because it’s delicious, which it is, but because — apparently — it is incredibly dangerous to the public welfare.

Let’s rewind. On a warm Saturday night in September, I found myself on my front porch with two of my housemates and a certain cake. I had celebrated my 22nd birthday that Friday and decided to have a quiet night at home following the previous night’s antics. I live on a relatively busy street in West Georgetown; in fact, there was a house party starting to get underway just across the street. Yet the three of us were more than content with simply sitting and talking to each other and to friends that occasionally passed by.

Within the hour, the soiree across the street had grown too big to go unnoticed. Student Neighborhood Assistance Program and Off-Campus Life officials came by to break up the event, and the dozens of people wandering around our street multiplied to well over a hundred. This in turn drew patrolling Metropolitan Police Department officers to the area in an attempt to disperse the masses that were now loitering outside the broken-up party with nowhere to go. The lead policeman looked around in vain for a way to quickly and effectively clear the streets. Outnumbered and perhaps overwhelmed, he made a decision to target the one culprit clearly responsible for the noise and busy-ness going on in the area: me.

And so it began. I tried to answer as calmly and politely as I could while the officer tried to explain how I needed to “disperse this area immediately” and that my cake was “causing a disturbance.” He even went so far as to say that I had no right to be on my porch, even though it was private property, because “renting ain’t the same as owning.” When I tried to explain the finer points of the law on these matters, I was told I could either “produce a lease” (supposedly to show I wasn’t trespassing) or be taken away to district jail for “disorderly conduct.”

I have rarely felt so frustrated or helpless as I did at that moment. Like most anyone, I did not walk around with my rental agreement in my front pocket. His threatening demands were completely illogical and likely illegal, but that didn’t make them any less real. I stared at this officer of the law for a matter of seconds that felt like an eternity before realizing it wasn’t worth the trouble. I went inside with my roommates and the officer turned his attention to other issues down the block, but my stubborn instincts were telling me to immediately go back outside and continue the argument.

As I watched the policeman walk away through the window, I saw, standing across the street, a certain Georgetown administrator — who shall remain nameless — out on patrol. She had been standing across the street the entire time after having broken up our neighbor’s party; surely she had witnessed our absurd situation? I snuck back out and crossed the street to talk to her. I explained the harassment we had received, including the fact that one roommate had been roughly pushed into a wall when he had approached in an effort to corroborate the fact that I lived in the house. She called the policeman back over so we could work things out.

Instead, the already heated argument became a three-way fight, with the administrator backing the policeman’s account and claiming that MPD had a right to see a lease out of concerns for safety given the high burglary rate in the neighborhood. Much to my dismay, the irrational justifications and threats kept piling up on all sides and if I stuck around I was surely going to drown in them. I resignedly turned to go back home.

“This kid,” the officer said with disgust as I left, “thinks he’s some kind of street lawyer.”

My column begins today, but my desire to help fix the many problems facing Georgetown students and their lack of rights in the community was born long ago. All too often students find themselves vulnerable, helpless and frustrated. So long as this is the case, there must be someone dedicated to ensuring their rights are protected and their voices are heard. If I can be that person for you or anyone you know, please let me know. Whether it’s appealing an unfair charge or sanction, ensuring student tenants aren’t abused by greedy landlords or just discussing ways in which we can work together to make the Georgetown community a better place for future generations, I would love to be there for you whether in private or here in THE HOYA.

James Butler is a senior in the School of Foreign Service. He can be reached at [email protected]. THE STREET LAWYER appears every other Friday.

To send a letter to the editor on a recent campus issue or Hoya story or a viewpoint on any topic, contact [email protected]. Letters should not exceed 300 words, and viewpoints should be between 600 to 800 words.

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