Dear Oberlin College Administration and Residence Life,
The past three weeks have been tense for almost all of the rising fourth-years I know. We were all anxious to learn where we would be living next year in the wake of constant rumors about the future of off-campus housing. And finally, this Monday, the day of reckoning came. On Feb. 24, at 4:47 p.m., just a mere 13 minutes before the ResLife office closed for the day, I received an email that would significantly impact my life for the next academic year. I did not get off-campus housing.
In fact, not a single roommate group I know of received off-campus housing for all of its members. Frantic texts along the lines of “did you get it?” blew up my phone. It seemed like everyone I knew was angry and deeply confused. And I was too.
Besides an email announcing the off-campus lottery Feb. 13, I have not heard anything from ResLife about them trying to possibly phase out off-campus housing, despite it being clear in their building of the Woodland Street dorm and allegedly reducing the number of off-campus spots.
In all honesty, I would not be mad at ResLife if they were trying to phase out off-campus housing for a good reason. Off-campus housing is a contested subject. By allowing a significant non-local student population to enter the renting market of a smaller town like Oberlin, there is a high possibility that off-campus housing is causing rent inflation in Oberlin. As many Oberlin students come from urban areas where the general income bracket is higher, the chances for non-Oberlin students to find affordable housing could definitely be negatively affected by off-campus housing.
But even if the College’s decision to downsize off-campus housing was made in the best interest of the town community, significantly decreasing it so abruptly without any conversation with or consultation of students shows blatant disregard for student wellbeing. By abruptly cutting off such a large population of students’ access to off-campus housing, the College is causing major accessibility issues, neglecting the importance of nonacademic, real-world skills, widening the divide between the student population and the town population, and perpetuating and worsening a flawed housing system.
This sudden and unacknowledged change in the off-campus lottery spots is a major accessibility issue. Off-campus housing provides a cheaper option for students who cannot pay Oberlin’s disgustingly large $19,510 housing and dining fee. Though I will acknowledge that the College has a system for those who receive financial aid and live off campus, which can make them similarly priced by reducing the amount of financial aid students receive, off-campus housing still provides students with a cheaper and more autonomous living option at Oberlin.
Additionally, students’ ability to cook for themselves helps to alleviate pervasive issues with accessibility in dining. The dining hall system has been notoriously inaccessible for people with food allergies or restrictions — (think of the Halal students’ call for better labeling in Stevenson Dining Hall and frustration at the limited dining options during Ramadan). Taking away such a large population of students’ access to personal kitchens while not providing accessible alternatives is grossly discriminatory to the students that need this option.
In this vein, I also want to bring attention to the autonomy and skill-building that off-campus housing provides students. The majority of students who live off campus, if not all, are fourth- and fifth-years. Off-campus housing provides students the opportunity to live on their own and therefore learn vital skills for life after graduation. This independence stands to benefit many students who have spent the past three years on the meal plan, being cooked for and picked up after by kind and hardworking College and AVI Foodsystems staff. Additionally, off-campus housing fosters hands-on education about personal energy consumption and life skills like paying bills, finding housing, and interacting with landlords. How can Oberlin claim to “prepare graduates with the knowledge, skills, and perspectives essential … to create change and value in the world” if its students don’t even know how to fry an egg?
As a first- and second-year, off-campus housing was something that I dreamed about, as it provided an escape from the bubble of Oberlin’s campus. Oberlin is a small school, which, to its credit, creates a close-knit community. However, its size can also feel suffocating at times. The decision to significantly downsize off-campus living has far wider implications than just student wellbeing. As many are aware, the relationship between the College and the town has been rocky for some time, especially since the College’s decision to switch to AVI Foodsystems in the middle of the COVID-19 pandemic, which left many community members without a job and source of income. Though many students deeply want to mend this fracture, the College’s decision to limit off-campus housing doesn’t make that likely. By significantly downsizing off campus housing, a sudden and gaping hole has been created in the landlord’s ability to find tenants, abruptly taking away more local residents’ source of income. Living off campus also provides an avenue to interact with the local Oberlin community in a tangible way. A big appeal of coming to Oberlin is the ability to call Oberlin the town, not just the College, our home. Living off-campus contributes integrally to that, and this major shift in housing physically perpetuates the divide between the College and the town populations by significantly limiting interaction between the two.
This reduction of off-campus spots doesn’t just affect students’ ability to live off campus, it also creates a chokehold on the Village Housing market, one of the only other autonomous living options for older students at Oberlin. Because of the reduction of off-campus spots, every single person I know is now trying to get a Village Housing Unit, which is already notoriously difficult to get. The possibility of living in a dorm as a 21-year-old fourth-year has become a new reality I must grapple with.
But truly, the crux of my issues with this situation is the disgustingly clear shift from the College caring about the wellbeing of students to only caring about monetization. The timing of this change coinciding with the Woodland Street dorm opening next semester is not random. It is a clear statement from the College, demanding students to give them our money. This sentiment has been reflected in other recent actions, such as the College’s clear opposition to Oberlin Student Cooperative Association in the renegotiation of the rent contract in 2021. It is deeply shocking and disturbing to me that they are so blatantly prioritizing money over our happiness, health, ability to leave Oberlin with vital skills, access to the town community, and autonomy as students.
–Kisa Biely, Zoe Meister, Ella Greene
