We all seek it. It is a major reason that a significant number of Duke students, myself included, have chosen to join selective living groups. Without it, we become painfully aware that we miss it. Alumni warn that forging it in the real world often takes significantly more effort than it does at Duke. It can be an elusive concept that drives administrators crazy; indeed, many conversations on the state of campus culture focus on how to best create it.
And when found, it can be a source of immense satisfaction, aid in the development of identity and the cultivation of confidence and act as a support system to help us begin to make little pieces of Duke our own.
I am talking about a sense of community—specifically, community in the form of shared residential experiences.
I decided to rush a selective living group as a sophomore. As a resident assistant living on East and apart from my class, I ached to have a community of my own, separate from the one that I had helped cultivate—a hall that I loved dearly, but within which I often felt lonely and could never quite shake my label of “the RA.”
I am so happy that I did join, because doing so allowed me to cross paths with then-strangers, including upperclassmen, who are now close friends. Through my involvement, I have been exposed to events and opportunities at Duke that I would not otherwise have known about; made amazing and meaningful memories with people who matter to me; and learned much about myself and how I operate in a group setting. I am proud to be a member, feel invested in the group, and often cite my participation as one of the highlights of my time at Duke.
At the same time, as a member who has never lived in section, I feel that I’m in an interesting position: attached to the group, but not centered within in, and thus able to observe some of its dynamics from the outside. I have experienced the pain of being left out, of feeling forgotten, and of missing out. I have sensed the exclusivity of the organization, seen clearly the impact that groupthink can sometimes have on its members, and witnessed the isolation that members themselves can experiences within its confines. Simply joining an SLG does not guarantee that you will reap the benefits of its residential community. Cultivating community requires a certain amount of work.
But despite these imperfections, I wonder: If I sometimes feel isolated on campus, both as a member of an SLG with the option of walking into a hall full of friends and acquaintances whenever I choose, and as an RA who knows every single one of my residents—and several of them very intimately—what does that say about the daily residential experiences of someone who has neither of these privileges?
From what I’ve seen, it’s not all bad. Many sophomores reside in blocks, and upperclassmen who choose to remain on West often do so in part because of their heavy involvement in campus life. Indeed, the latter shows that community need not be residential. It can be rooted in almost anything that creates a sense of interdependence among its members: a student group, for example, or support for our basketball team.
However, the benefits of experiencing community at a residential level are substantial. Studies have shown that a sense of belonging, especially within one’s place of residence, is critical to a college student’s growth and development. There’s a reason an important charge of RAs at Duke and elsewhere is to “build community” within their halls.
But these communities can be hard to build, especially among independents. And in my experience, it is not because these residents are less social or don’t want to connect with others in their areas. Residents of Crowell Quadrangle, most of whom are independents, consistently express sentiments about their experiences in the dorm that demonstrate a disconnect between reality and students’ perceptions.
In surveys, Crowell residents often express concerns that their neighbors are less than willing to get to know each other. However, an equal proportion write about wanting to get know their neighbors and desiring more frequent opportunities to do so. Interestingly, comparing survey data across quads indicates that no significant difference exists between Crowell and the rest of West Campus in the way students rate their sense of belonging. This implies that belonging to a group does not necessarily solve the problem of loneliness. The results also highlight the importance of personal initiative in creating communities.
I’m not saying that changes aren’t needed at Duke on a macro level—they are. But we should remember that the act of making small changes in our own lives can be just as powerful.
But the meantime, the power to make changes lies with each of us.
Ying-Ying Lu is a Trinity senior. Her column runs every other Thursday.
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