Does Dartmouth have a problem? The fact that opinions vary so wildly on this issue surely constitutes a problem itself. How is it that certain groups or individuals feel so adamantly one way, and others just as strongly in the opposite direction? How estranged from one another must we be that such passionately diametric opinions could divide our half square mile campus?
One sentiment I have repeatedly encountered following our recent day of reflection is a newfound empathy a realization that one's own Dartmouth experience may not, in fact, exemplify an experience for all. I was heartened to see so many in our community take the time to listen, and to consider the experiences of all students on this campus. Yet what does it say about Dartmouth that it required the full cessation of normal activity for this sort of breakthrough to occur? That so many are only now tuned in to the fact that some in our community are struggling?
Our campus is severely fragmented. The notion of a singular "Dartmouth community" is truly an Admissions Office publicity pipe dream. One need only to glance in FoCo during dinner hours to witness the striking segregation that runs like a current through our school: from our classrooms to our social spaces, to our locker rooms, residences and dining halls, dividing us so often along gender, race, orientation and class. It is not a perfect segregation, but it is readily apparent to any who dare notice.
Many have addressed the self-segregation that seems to occur at Dartmouth. Fewer have given thought as to why such a phenomenon might occur in the first place. For me, the chore of defending my right as a gay man to basic human dignities the freedom from unprovoked ridicule or subjection to dehumanizing slurs, for instance has simply proven too exhausting within specific circles. But far more often, the sense of alienation is more subtle: the implicit assumption of heterosexuality and the reflexive pairing up of fraternities and sororities in our dominant campus social culture; the Greek system's inherent tendency to divide us by gender and reinforce antiquated gender norms; the heartbreaking regularity with which Dartmouth men and women feel compelled to remain "in the closet." (You'll have to trust me on that last one.)
I cannot attest to anyone else's experience, but I know from conversations with my peers black and white, straight and gay, mainstream and marginalized that I am not alone in feeling this way. Sometimes, segregating yourself with people who actually give a damn feels like the only way to stay sane.
But then I wonder, am I any better than those whom I feel have pushed me here? I decry a culture of insularity only to establish one of my own. I can do better than this. I think we all can do better than this.
We will continue to grapple with these same problems, hurt each other and then fail to understand why the other is hurting, until we stop treating each other like strangers and start treating each other like the classmates, colleagues and community members that we are. If you are a student at Dartmouth, then you deserve the love and loyalty of this entire school, not just the members of your friend group, or your immutable affinities or your "brother-" or "sisterhood." I challenge us to live up to the notion of a cohesive community, and that inherently means opening ourselves up to people and experiences that differ from our own.
Take a look around you. Who are the people shaping your time at this school? Are they teaching you new things? Are they challenging you to think differently, to question what you know, to explore new ideas? Or do you find yourself, as I know I sometimes do, trapped in an echo chamber, where everything you believe is validated by and reflected in the person sitting across from you?
I do not deny that administrative or institutional changes may be warranted in some capacity, nor that I myself tend to be especially critical of particular campus institutions. But the onus is on each of us as individual students to make this a college for all of us.
