When Texas State University President Kelly Damphousse labeled the phrase “Free Palestine” as hate speech, something in me broke – but more importantly, something in me awakened. I knew, in that moment, silence was not an option.
I didn’t grow up believing that I would ever have to defend the basic right to speak the truth. I thought universities were supposed to be places of dialogue, of uncomfortable learning, and of growth. But in a single statement from the highest seat of authority at my school, I saw how fragile freedom of expression really is – especially when the message challenges those in power.
What does it say about our institutions when a call for justice is branded as dangerous? What does it mean for our future when solidarity is silenced, but hate is allowed to flourish?
Who Gets To Define Hate?
Language is powerful. It’s how we name our pain, demand change, and make sense of injustice – but it’s also how those in power control the narrative. The term “hate speech” carries serious weight as it’s meant to protect marginalized groups from violence, not to be used as a political weapon against them.
The textbook definition is simple:
“Abusive or threatening speech or writing that expresses prejudice on the basis of ethnicity, religion, sexual orientation, or similar grounds.”
So how does “Free Palestine” qualify?
It doesn’t.
It is a political statement – one that’s echoed across global protests, UN forums, academic institutions, and humanitarian platforms. It’s a call for the recognition of Palestinian humanity. It is not a threat. It is not abuse. It is not a slur. It is not violence.
And yet, it was treated as if it were.
By labeling this phrase hate speech, President Damphousse didn’t just misrepresent student activism – he rewrote the definition of what it means to care about human rights, and in doing so, he shifted the focus away from actual hate and turned it toward silencing dissent.
A Double Standard Of Dangerous Proportions
This is not the first time I’ve watched this administration remain silent in the face of real hatred.
On Nov. 6, the morning after the election results were announced, a group of men entered our campus carrying signs that read: “Women Are Property” and “Homo Sex Is Sin.”
I remember the tension. I remember the fear. I remember how many students felt unsafe walking across their own campus, reduced to objects and slurs in the name of someone else’s “free speech.”
President Damphousse’s response? There wasn’t anything he could do.
That the signs – clearly degrading and dehumanizing – fell under First Amendment protections. No condemnation. No accountability. Just a carefully-worded statement about tolerance and neutrality.
So, when the walls were spray painted with the words “Free Palestine” – a phrase calling for human dignity, not hate, I expected, at the very least, the same standard.
Instead, we were met with censorship.
What changed?
Why is hate protected when it dehumanizes women and LGBTQ+ students, but not when it challenges colonialism and state violence?
The hypocrisy is as loud as the silence students received from our “president.”
ICE On Campus: Another Layer Of Fear
The contradiction doesn’t stop with free speech.
Just weeks before the so-called “hate speech” appeared on campus, there were confirmed sightings of ICE (Immigration and Customs Enforcement) vehicles on campus. No public notice was given. No message was sent out to students – especially undocumented students – who are directly affected by their presence. The administration didn’t say anything.
For many of us, seeing those vehicles wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was terrifying.
How can a university claim to foster safety and inclusion when it allows the presence of an agency known for detaining and deporting members of our community, without even acknowledging it?
How is it that “Free Palestine” is swiftly condemned, but the presence of federal agents linked to trauma, separation, and deportation doesn’t even warrant a public statement?
Silence speaks volumes. It reveals which students are prioritized — and which ones are expendable.
You cannot claim to support diversity, equity, and inclusion while ignoring the fear ICE brings to undocumented students. You cannot claim to uphold free speech while silencing those fighting for human rights.
You can’t have it both ways.
I Tried To Talk To Him
I reached out. So did many others.
I sent a message that reads as follows, “Last time I checked, the message of “end deportation” and “end genocide” are not hate speech. I believe by your definition it would be free speech, right? If men holding up signs saying “women are property” and yelling in peoples faces is free speech, right Kelly?” His response was lackluster to say the least. “Vandalism is a crime” is the response he gives students who dare to ask why the language of liberation was being mischaracterized as hate.
It didn’t feel like leadership. It felt like damage control.
It didn’t feel like protection. It felt like erasure.
Universities Are Supposed To Teach Us How To Think – Not What To Think
The purpose of higher education isn’t to coddle power – it’s to question it.
Campuses should be spaces where uncomfortable truths are not only tolerated, but explored. Where students are encouraged to challenge systems, ask hard questions and imagine better futures. When universities silence those efforts, they don’t just fail their students, they betray their own mission.
Texas State University didn’t just get the definition wrong – it sent a message:
That some political expressions are valid, and others are dangerous.
That standing up for Palestinian lives is somehow more controversial than calling women property. That those who challenge authority will be painted as threats.
This isn’t just offensive, it’s terrifying.
A Pattern Beyond One Campus
This incident at Texas State University is not isolated. Across the country – and the world – we are witnessing a pattern: people in power weaponizing the concept of hate speech to suppress political speech they don’t like.
And it’s not just about Palestine.
It’s about Indigenous rights.
It’s about Black Lives Matter.
It’s about abortion rights.
It’s about trans rights.
It’s about every movement that dares to disrupt the status quo.
When dissent becomes a punishable offense, democracy is in danger.
When compassion is mislabeled as extremism, justice is delayed.
When truth becomes hate, we are in serious trouble.
Why I’m Speaking Out And Why You Should Too
I didn’t write this to attack anyone. I wrote this because I refuse to accept a world where justice is silenced and hate is protected.
I wrote this because if they can silence this phrase, they can silence any of us.
Free speech must mean something. Not just for the majority. Not just for the powerful. But especially for those who speak out when it’s hard, when it’s unpopular, when it puts them at risk.
And that’s exactly why I’m writing now.
To every student, activist, and community member reading this: Don’t stop speaking. Don’t let them redefine your voice as violence. Don’t let fear win.
Challenge the narratives. Demand better from your leaders. Protect each other. And above all, stay loud.
The Path Forward
There’s still time to turn this around. But only if we’re honest.
Universities must return to their roots – as places of learning, dialogue, and truth-seeking. Administrators must learn the difference between discomfort and danger. They must acknowledge that advocacy is not aggression. They must listen – really listen – to the students they claim to serve.
Because progress doesn’t happen in silence. It happens in conversation, in disagreement, and in protest.
If we’re truly committed to building a more just world, we must start by protecting the words and voices that call for one.
“Free Palestine” is not hate speech.
It is a demand for human dignity.
It is a cry for freedom.
It is a prayer for peace.
And no one, no matter how powerful, has the right to silence that.