As I walk back from class in Clemens to my apartment in Flint Village, at almost ten o’clock at night, there are few left who are roaming halls and making their way up the spine. The grounds are almost deserted, and I still have another six minutes before I approach my door, swipe my card, and walk safely in, proceeding, thereafter, to fumble with my keys for the next five. It’s fairly dark, and had my classmates not exited the building with me, I would have felt somewhat unsettled. But, I get to Flint in no time, and am convinced of the vigilance with which safety is enforced by campus authorities. At least, on North Campus.
Almost daily, I hear concerns about being alone at night from people I know living on South Campus and in the Heights. Why should some people be subjected to walking home in constant fear of being ambushed, beaten, or robbed, while others stroll home from class or the library at night without even giving it a second thought? You’re going to have to bear with me for repeating myself because I can’t find any simpler way to say it. Safety is uncompromisingly important, especially in the vicinity of a center of constant activity like University at Buffalo.
UB has a great reputation, and more than a few applicants consider it their final choice. We all did, apparently, in hopes that we would be part of a larger community, a small yet important part of the grand scheme of things. University Heights is part of the big picture, since it houses a huge amount of UB students. If University police can break up parties and bust kids on South, then they should surely offer the same caliber of assistance to people who really need it. Even though the stigma of the Heights has always preceded it with rumors of slum lords, month old garbage lining the streets, and seedy encounters with bums, somehow, UB students have found University Heights livable.
These past two weeks, we have all received those emails— those of us who check our emails. You know the ones. They describe in the vaguest terms the perpetrators of the crime, who, at first glance, could be any of your classmates. A man with a deep voice, a young guy with an ear piercing and a blue jacket. Gimme a break— that describes twenty percent of my graduating class!
The first email was shocking, but we talked little about it— just another one of those warnings. The second one generated some buzz. Two assaults on females in one week. That’s enough to make me rethink my attendance at the next party on South. Get sexually assaulted for a kegger? No, thank you (at least not before I get there, ohhhhh, BURN). But, in all seriousness, that also made me think about the people who live on South and can’t just stay home on a Thursday night in order to be safe. It’s their own neighborhood. Where are they going to go? Apparently their houses don’t provide a good enough shelter because we constantly hear about burglary, on South Campus and in the Heights. People’s cars get broken into in school parking lots. Students walking past school buildings are attacked. That leaves… nowhere. Someone has to take responsibility. I’m aware that it’s unfair to just blame the university for these problems, but crime in the Heights has become a staple of life at UB, and that’s unacceptable.
Just because we don’t always see it or hear about it, doesn’t mean that it’s not going on, and it definitely doesn’t mean that we can’t be doing anything to prevent it. Hindsight is 20/20, but what good does that do us when we’ve already taken a hit? It shouldn’t take two rapes and a beating to raise the awareness of students and faculty.
There are many connotations to the words college and university, and undoubtedly, one of them is a safe haven, intellectually and physically. Once that comfort level dissolves, what do we have left?
