"Everything is a gradient." The professor circled around his desk, never meeting my eyes, he was concentrating so intensely. He was exactly what a Human Rights Studies professor should be; youngish, tired-looking, semi-casually dressed in a T-shirt and blazer. Even his glasses proclaimed his down-t(more)o-earthness. Horn rimmed but held together with tape. All as it should be.
One of the other students raised her hand, petulant. "What do you mean? Like, once the people decide to act on their beliefs hasn't it occurred in that very moment?" I never raised my hand. I only watched him, watched them all with the same detached fixation as always. He was nodding his head tiredly. He took off his crooked glasses and rubbed his eyelids so hard it looked like he was trying to gouge out his eyes.
"Consider this." He began, pacing in front of his messy desk. "Who can tell me exactly at which point night becomes day?"
Several students eagerly raised their hands. He didn't allow them to answer. Instead he stared them down. "Are you sure?" the question lingered over the slowly lowering hands of the students. "Do you really know? Is it when the sun rises? Is it when the majority of people are awake? I'm not talking about science here; when we get into the semantics of it all, there is no definite line, is there?" The class remained silent, thinking. "We cross the threshold without even knowing it. So it is with social change. Even a revolution doesn't happen instantly. People have to get fed up, they have to get ideas. They have to start filling in the night, piece by piece, with the day. Making change takes immense patience."
For the first time this semester he looked right into my eyes. "Get. Fed. Up."(less)