By Alison Cummings, for the Muleskinner

First, I heard shouting. Then I saw his finger pointing directly at a student. He lowered his hand to his Bible – no, he slammed his hand against his Bible. There was a staccato at the tip of every syllable he yelled. “You. Are. A. Sinner. Bow down on your knees and repent. GOD HATES THOSE WHO SHED INNOCENT BLOOD.”

Jeff Mullen stood in front of the east entrance of the Elliott Student Union and shouted at anyone passing by.

I called Public Safety.

I knew they had to be aware he was on campus, but I wanted to make sure they knew his nonverbals intimidated me and the students around me who chose to walk through the Union rather than across campus because they were too anxious to be called out by him. If nothing else, I wanted them to know he had an explicit sign that made me feel afraid.

Public Safety said an officer was on site and whatever the officer thought needed to be stopped would be stopped. This may very well be a fundamental attribution error but when I look at an officer with a gun on their hip, I can’t help but think, “Of course they’re not intimidated.”

We don’t have to talk about this “preacher’s” unsound theology, his misrepresentation of an entire group of people or his misuse of scripture. We don’t have to talk about the way it made my hands shake or the hives that spread across my throat when I realized I had to walk past him to get to class. But we have to talk about the accusations, the shouting, hitting things and his pointing fingers. We have to talk about the sign he held and its violent depiction of the remains of an aborted fetus.

Where do we draw the line between free speech and intimidation? How far does it need to go? Does Mullen need to call a woman a bitch to be silenced, or is calling her a murderer enough? And when does the sign become “explicit”? Is it not enough to show clumps of fetal tissue amid a pool of blood or does the child need to have a face? I know I am not the only student on campus affected by the pain of a miscarriage.

His right to throw a punch extends only as far as his fist does before it touches my face. This time, I was touched.

This man has the right to speak freely, but at what point does his right to speak outweigh the reasonable expectation of people who spend thousands of dollars per semester to walk to and from the classes for which they’ve paid?

I’m not asking for silence. I’m just asking for security.