Earlier this month, GUSA revealed that university administration was considering consolidating the Women’s Center, LGBTQ Resource Center, and the Center for Multicultural Equity Access into a single entity. The proposal attracted strong criticism from all corners. Shortly after word broke, another possible administration consideration was announced: a third-year student meal plan requirement. Students reacted negatively to the proposal, which would require juniors to buy into university dining policy and remains on the table. And, last week, the Voice ran an article on the state of the 2010 Campus Plan, formed between the university and the Advisory Neighborhood Commission, that severely curtails the number of students permitted to live off-campus—a deal that forced discussion of a satellite campus last year and has prompted rapid campus construction to house students for next year.
All three of these proposals—and the groundswell of criticism that has attended them—share a common thread. University administration has increasingly begun to propose changes motivated by factors other than students’ needs and desires. The university’s fiscal policy, endowment, ability to pay for infrastructure projects, and legal obligations to the neighborhood are obviously of preeminent concern. But a systemic issue arises when these concerns trump administrative regard for students’ rights and well-being—particularly when students historically have fought to win recognition of these rights.
Of the administration’s recent proposals, the consolidation of the three resource centers is the most egregious. The implicit assumption—that minority, LGBTQ, and female students could all be well-served by a single office—is belied by these organizations’ individual histories, which begin in student advocacy. (marketshirt.com) The individual mandates of these institutions to the students they serve—and the fact that these mandates have not always been secured—merit dedicated, individual spaces on campus.
This need has not waned with time. A bias-related assault on M St. that left a Georgetown student in the hospital just last month and a sexual assault on a female in the neighborhood this past weekend show that the university’s commitment to its students’ welfare must be reinvigorated rather than bureaucratically watered down. If the university is committed to cutting expenses, it should start with groups that do not expressly serve vulnerable and historically underrepresented communities.
University representatives have understandingly sought to strike a conciliatory tone. In a response to the consolidation proposal posted on IdeaScale, Vice President of Student Affairs Todd Olson stated that the administration “understand[s] and value[s] the work of each center, and the needs of all our students.”
These words will do little to change an emergent administrative culture that these latest episodes epitomize. The majority of Hoyas might be able to shrug off the inconveniences of campus construction, or forgive the administration for pondering ways to cut costs. After all, the 2010 Campus Plan has forced the university as a whole, not just its student body, into some tight corners. But a university policy dictated by interests that supercede the mandate to deliver the best outcomes for student academics and well-being—especially when those outcomes are the hard-won result of student advocacy in the first place—is an affront to all.
