Is Oberlin Too Woke? Reflections from a Kenyon Transfer
by Erris Maguire, Contributor
For the past two weeks I’ve been experiencing what I like to call “college shock” — not to be confused with culture shock, which is defined by Merriam Webster Dictionary as “the feeling of disorientation experienced by someone who is suddenly subjected to an unfamiliar culture, way of life, or set of attitudes.” College campuses generally have many things in common. When we all eagerly began our applications in the fall of senior year of high school, the words collaborative, supportive, and especially innovative seemed to overlap with one another. I asked myself, Why the hell do I even care? It doesn’t matter for undergrad anyways. Unlike culture shock, where the challenge lies in adapting to an entirely foreign country or community, college shock comes from realizing that the so-called universality of American higher education is more myth than reality. Everyone markets the same buzzwords, but the substance of the campus experience differs wildly, often in ways you can’t anticipate until you’re living it.
Most American universities share a lot of things in common, including but not limited to:
subpar to abysmal dining hall food
unfortunate bathroom conditions
weird smells…
laundry roulette
controversial professors/coaches.
But nothing really prepared me for the political atmosphere at Oberlin. Thankfully, I plunged headfirst into the archetypal hippie-Oberlin experience as a transfer student.
I joined a co-op.
House meetings and discussions are grounded in democracy, accessibility, and barefootedness. Political zines scattered in the community spaces, fundraising for Gaza, and so on. It’s felt familiar in the way most colleges do, but also a breath of fresh air coming from Kenyon College.
Attending the most expensive university in Ohio (Oberlin in second place) had me surrounded by children of wealth and second homes in Colorado for yearly ski outings. Canada Goose coats, YSL bags, and looks of discontent when discussing politics. Political activism existed in the shadows. Last fall, a meager group of four students gathered outside our library to protest for divestment from Israeli arms corporations. As other students walked by in expensive athleisure, they yelled at us, glared, or openly recorded us for simply standing on a lawn. We were famous on the school’s YikYak for being “retarded libs,” among other profanities. The next day the school gossip switched to the upcoming Alpha Delta whatever-the-fuck party.
Political junkies, left-leaning or not, would find Kenyon College to be in stark contrast to Oberlin. I avoid labeling my political views, but I can’t say they were welcome — even for discussion — at Kenyon. Political groups were small, rarely active, and scared of retribution from the administration. The quiet political division wasn’t up for speculation, as in the spring a student complained about the college’s lack of urgency regarding Trump’s bathroom policy. Kenyon is both politically averse in a sheepish way and outright intolerant of advocacy. When I transferred to Oberlin, I heard opinions in my Politics classes that I never in my wildest dreams imagined hearing at Kenyon.
And I’m okay with that.
To be politically incorrect is the essence of being fucking human in America. If I went to an even more politically conservative institution than Kenyon, I’m certain I’d feel isolated. But if dissenting opinions and demonstrations were met with pragmatism and openness, I’d probably be okay-ish. And that’s better than not okay.
While I keep navigating the breath of fresh air this campus has been, and the political activism that comes with it, I remind myself the reason I'm happy isn’t because I’m “surrounded by libs.” I’m happy because those “lefties” actually have a space to speak. But that space to speak can’t drive out dissent. Oberlin, like any other lefty liberal arts college, risks promoting the same sneaky, nebulous culture of intolerance that Kenyon had. If hyper-partisans dominate and shut down others, we fail ourselves, and lose the one thing that makes political discussion interesting — DISSENT!
What I am really asking for is pragmatic discourse: conversations that center on workable solutions and common understandings rather than moral highgrounds. Take dining hall food, for example, as Oberlin students complain frequently about food quality. Instead of the eternal “this food sucks” vs. “just be grateful” argument, pragmatic discourse would be asking how the dining budget is spent and whether co-ops or local vendors could supplement meals without raising costs. Or, how have salary cuts been impacting AVI employees? How does this impact the predictability of our meals?
While I can get on my soapbox and preach pragmatism, I’ll clarify — no, I’m not saying Oberlin should tolerate hate. But if Oberlin and its students want to take any lesson from college, it’s that not everyone is going to agree with you. That’s going to be a hard lesson if we can’t even tolerate pragmatic discourse.
If liberal arts colleges like Oberlin want to live up to their branding — collaborative, supportive, innovative — they’ve got to resist becoming echo chambers. Otherwise, we’re not practicing education, just self-congratulation.
