Chantelle Leswell ’20J | Staff Writer
Self-reported feelings of loneliness and difficulty connecting with others seem to be endemic to college campuses over the past couple of years — presumably a combined result of increased usage of social media over recent years and living in Trump’s America. However, the data suggests that these feelings of isolation and emotional malaise are overwhelmingly more prevalent at campuses that more-so favor anonymity, such as day colleges and larger state schools.
And yet, at Smith, I encounter people almost daily and have had, and been privy to, innumerable interactions over the past three years which suggest Smith students suffer from these symptoms, often in the most extreme ways. I think it’s important for us to examine some of the reasons why we, as a school, seem to engender feelings on a large scale entirely counter to our modus operandi of empowering one another. We also need to start thinking of ways we can begin to help each other navigate through feelings of awkwardness, discomfort and downright despair that coming to college can bring.
From what I can gather, the overarching culture at Smith encourages the suppression of “true” emotional experiences, whether that be homesickness, feelings of inadequacy or struggling to develop and maintain close friendships on campus. We learn pretty soon after we arrive here that there are certain codes of conduct policing our emotions and interactions. Those who are affected, then, respond accordingly: speaking vaguely about how exhausted we are, or how much work we have to do, all the while developing deeper-seated issues with self-esteem and lack of belonging. The primordial “stress olympics” — which according to alumnae is almost as old as the fabric of this institution — is a game that we are covertly incentivised to participate in from the get-go. This is usually something that well-meaning seniors attempt to un-teach later on once the damage is done. By then, newer students have already internalized the self-sabotaging rhetoric of having to be the “most overworked” to avoid succumbing to the ever-threatening “imposter syndrome” that follows when, inevitably, they lose the stress olympics for the first time.
As well as our culture of competition that pervades all social spaces on campus, online spaces, such as the Smith Confessional, also provide anonymous platforms that can act to deepen fissions between students. People are often compelled to share unpopular views or call attention to themselves in other ways that they might not if their name was presented on the forum.
I’ve heard countless horror stories of how only the awful underbelly of Smith (which is not indicative of Smith students at large at all) surface there and share their usually inflammatory or peculiar views. This ultimately culminates in the same response from Smith students in the public realm: people should be ashamed for frequenting those spaces, and if they are using anonymity as a veil, then they must logically have larger personal flaws to which they must answer.
Of course, a quick scroll through recent posts was telling primarily in a couple of ways, basically that 1) yes, people use the space to troll others and/or share opinions which may read as unsavoury to many students and 2) students experiencing chronic loneliness on this campus rely on validation and support from other anons as they discuss their struggles with stifling mental health issues and other difficulties stemming from not having a core group of friends or support network here.
What this results in is a system of reproducing pain, shame and exacerbated loneliness; people have a fundamental need for human connection, and if they don’t find it in conventional ways, reaching out to ostensible kinfolk anonymously on the internet is an adaptive coping technique. However, in larger society and niche circles like Smith, these patterns are usually stigmatised just as we see with the Smith Confessional, and individuals are left feeling shameful and will likely repress the original inducer emotion even further.
Another thing that we may want to examine is the issue of stifled “weekend culture” at Smith. There was an interesting change in campus activity over the past year or two that I’m sure correlates very closely with spikes in feelings of isolation and discordant self-images. Though Smith has never, in recent years, been considered a party school (I remember it routinely described as variations of “tame” and “tiresome” to me by upperclassmen when I first arrived), there is a distinct change in tone and pace surrounding social life since my earlier days at Smith.
In short, there used to be a comfortable cadence at weekends that appealed to the general middle, and there was almost always a function, casual or organised, where students could unwind and get to know one another outside of Smith’s otherwise stringent and often difficult-to-traverse boundaries. It may be difficult to ascertain what changed — maybe just a crack-down from the institution for fear of being viewed in a poor light by donors — but regardless, campus is decidedly quiet most weekends now, and I know from experience that campus police will gladly shut down the slightest hint of disorganised social activity these days.
People have commented that the resulting change on campus is palpable and, in a convoluted way, is tied up in feelings of a loss of autonomy (especially if students are under 21) and freedom to destress from conditions many already consider oppressive. It also, I think, crucially takes away opportunities for organically cultivating new relationships in what many may consider their only relatively stress-less spaces on campus, thus, of course, leading to less interactions and lesser degrees of connection between more students.
This issue is extremely complex and should be an ongoing conversation, but it was one I wanted to start. I don’t believe that Smith is a joyless vacuum of academia and fruitless social justice work. I do, however, believe that many suffer here, and they usually suffer in silence.
I think it’s fair to say that extra-curricular organizations, classes and other common interests usually permit camaraderie between people who share these realms, but moments of connection in these spaces rarely extend beyond pleasantries and mutual appreciation, and even more rare is it to find these platitudes permeating other walks of a Smith student’s life.
In short, this campus, and spaces on it, work very well to produce fairly organic acquaintance-ships, in which two students can talk about their days and express empathy toward one another in passing, but it’s my sense that it does not regularly and concretely provide fertile ground for lasting, meaningful human connection. It’s hard to distill exactly how individuals can tackle such a huge issue that, while is not unique to the institution, has facets that certainly are controlled and perpetuated by the institution of a “Smith student” itself. My call to action is two-fold but simple, and I have personally subscribed to it for a while now: be kind, exercise compassion whenever possible and do what you can to steer clear of the stress olympics.
