I owe my Blue Devil title to financial aid. I don’t order from Doordash, I rarely dine out and I spend my work-study earnings on flights to Pakistan and flex points for laundry. People tell me this must be tough, that I must be broke. But I don’t see it that way. I am lucky just to be here: It is financial aid that makes enrollment possible for me.
The reality is that for most students, affording Duke is a challenge, even with financial aid. If you don’t have access to resources beyond what’s considered “demonstrated need,” attending can feel like an impossible stretch.
The median family income of a Duke student is $186,700, with 69% coming from the top 20% of earners. Only 1.6% of students come from low-income backgrounds. This financial homogeneity is reflected in campus culture — as reported by The Chronicle in 2023. Many students describe wealth as “ubiquitous” at Duke, shaping practically every corner of the University. In The Chronicle report, then-sophomore Carly Pyles said, "I thought I had already been exposed to the highest levels of affluence. In my opinion, Duke is at a whole new level.” There have to be others who feel the same. And if even the students from privileged backgrounds are surprised by Duke’s wealth, it’s clear that the University has to do something about its lack of financial diversity.
Duke claims to meet 100% of demonstrated need, but that need is based on institutional formulas that may not always be favorable. Even in a best-case scenario of an ordinary American citizen — owning a home, having no other children enrolled college, and both parents together — a family earning $80,610 per year would still be expected to contribute $6,200 to $20,100 per year, according to Duke’s own Tuition Calculator (assuming tuition is $89,600). In calculating this estimate, I also assumed that the household had only $25,000 in savings, no retirement assets and a $350,000 home with a $200,000 mortgage in any U.S. state.
When considering a holistic portfolio of household expenses — such as the need to accumulate retirement savings and make mortgage payments — the size of these tuition contributions can create significant financial strain. It is well documented that, even after financial aid, middle-class families are often left with bills that stretch their finances. While Duke’s aid significantly reduces the full assumed cost of attendance, it doesn’t eliminate the burden or student loans to the extent it really can.
After nearly two years at Duke, I’ve realized that the University itself has a spending problem, and this money can be utilized to do something about the lack of financial diversity at the institution. But, instead of prioritizing affordability, it pours millions into unnecessary renovations — Lilly Library, the Lobby Shop, Wilson Gym, Abele Quad and so on. Duke’s spending problem isn’t new and is overdue for a rethink.
The Brodhead Center renovation alone cost $150 million, transforming the student union into a high-end dining space while food prices on campus remained high. The Lilly Library renovation is projected to cost $64 million by 2027, and Wallace Wade Stadium underwent costly renovations with no publicly available final price tag (we can reasonably assume it was in the millions). Duke has previously spent $15 million on Baldwin Auditorium renovations, and another $15 million on the Bryan Center. The University also invested $30 million into Duke Gardens renovations. These renovations are just the latest chapter in Duke’s long tradition of rebuilding what was never broken.
These projects may make Duke’s pathways more picturesque, but they ignore the students who should be walking them.
I don’t want to be unfair. The University does allocate 23% of its endowment toward financial aid. But if the University’s student diversity severely lacks financial representation, perhaps that is not enough.
I'm no math major, but I crunched the numbers … and somehow, the University doesn’t see this, or is ignorant toward this ridiculously obvious truth: For every $1 million Duke spends on renovations, they can most likely add two more students to their full scholarship program (With Duke's cost of attendance now at $92,042 per year, a four-year degree costs approximately $368,168. That means every $1 million spent elsewhere could fully fund about 2.7 students — rounding down, that’s at least two more students who could attend without financial burden.)
Let's put that in perspective: If Duke had not begun renovating Lilly Library, it could’ve directed those funds to fully fund the tuition of 128 students for all four years. If Duke reallocated Broadhead Center’s $150 million in renovations toward expanding need-based scholarship programs or curbing tuition hikes, 300 students could attend Duke without any financial burden. Again, these calculations assume $1 million can pay for at least 2 students.
This issue is more urgent than ever: a 5.93% increase in the undergraduate cost of attendance was just recently approved by the Board of Trustees. Where is the money going, and why is tuition still rising — outpacing inflation — despite a $11.9 billion endowment?
The University has plenty of options: invest more endowment funds in financial aid, make the definition of “demonstrated need” more flexible, curb tuition hikes or maybe stop the never-ending renovations of Abele Quad — still a mystery to students. Options also include expanding the Robertson Scholars Leadership Program from 25-30 students per year to at least 50 and increasing the Benjamin N. Duke Scholarship from 10-12 recipients to at least 20. While these are merit-based programs, Duke has the capacity to expand financial aid across both need and merit-based scholarships.
I suggest double-digit increases, but the University’s capacity is far greater.
I am not arguing for Duke to follow other elitist institutions simply because there is little to follow. I argue for Duke to lead by example by expanding need-based scholarship programs, and going beyond demonstrated need, like no other university has before.
The new meaning of the “Duke Difference” may just be to prioritize affordability over aesthetics.
This change may just change a student’s life. I understand exclusivity regarding low acceptance rates, but I fail to understand that when it comes to granting scholarships. After all, Duke has one of the biggest endowments in the country.
Some may argue that campus upgrades attract donors, but what good is a beautiful campus if inaccessible to thousands of qualified students? If Duke truly values excellence, it should invest in the students who make it great.
If the argument is that endowment funds are constrained by donor intent, then the question isn’t just about money — it’s about priorities. Duke has a responsibility to shape the donor conversation rather than passively accept restrictions that reinforce exclusivity.
Donors don't act in a vacuum; they respond to the University's vision and leadership. If Duke treated financial accessibility as an urgent priority — on par with naming buildings or funding niche research — donors could follow. The same institution that successfully secures millions for new infrastructure could at least try to apply that same energy in securing unrestricted financial aid funds.
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I won’t negate the larger debate on private institutions, legacy admissions or Duke’s low international student rates — that’s an op-ed for another day. But for now, one thing is clear: Duke owes it to the hard-working high school students dreaming of a world-class education to invest more in them than in aesthetics.
Ultimately, while I do owe my Blue Devil title to financial aid and I recognize my privilege in even having that opportunity, I also recognize the millions of students who never got the chance to even make it here — not because they weren’t smart enough, but because Duke chose to make its campus more beautiful rather than make college more affordable.
So, Duke — why prioritize stone and steel over the students who should, or are, walking through them?
Noor Nazir is a Trinity sophomore. Her pieces typically run on alternate Tuesdays.