I was tabling in Mudd when a member of the Communications Office came in to take pictures of the new bookstore setup in Azariah’s Café. I asked, “Came to see how atrocious it is?” He was naturally taken aback by my disdain and the vocal support of another student tabling nearby. I boldly wagered the tuition of my upcoming last semester that we wouldn’t find a single student who supported the removal of more than half the space and seating. And we didn’t. That wager revealed not only the depth of student frustration but also the futility of raising objections after the fact. He told me that the administration had hoped generally to bring vitality back to Mudd — a word that now feels drenched in irony. The southeast corner of Mudd has been transformed into something far from vital: a hollow, retail-oriented shell of what Azzie’s once was — Oberlin’s most beloved student space.
The sidelining of Azzie’s into a take-out counter to make room for a new and improved campus store is not an isolated change, but part of a broader pattern. Students have already lost resources like the Rathskeller dine-in space. The days when DeCafé had seating are long forgotten, and dorm lounges do not facilitate what Azzie’s once did. Wilder Hall itself lies half-renovated after years of construction delays and budget compromises. In each case, the administration has presented its decisions as pragmatic, even inevitable, while students are left grappling with the loss of community spaces that give Oberlin its vitality. Consider the numerous displaced student organizations, such as WOBC, the ExCo Committee, and SFC, among many others. The official explanation for Azzie’s reduction rests on, in part, the expiration of the previous Barnes & Noble contract and the need for a B.A./B.F.A. program space. However, this shift has been framed as one student space for another, which overlooks a crucial truth: not all spaces are created equal.
Students feel this loss acutely. Aemilia Tunnesse, College fourth-year, described Azariah’s as “the most popular third space [a social setting that is distinct from home or work] by far on campus,” where students could “be social or not, work casually with friends, or simply have access to a freeing space.”
In contrast, the rest of Mudd generally demands quiet work.
“People aren’t just going there for the coffee,” she said. “They are going there for what Azzie’s represents.”
Countless others echo her point. One night, my roommate stared at their unfinished work and admitted, “I have nowhere to go.” That simple statement captures the stakes. Without Azzie’s, there is no casual hub for connection outside the pressures of dorms, classrooms, and performance halls. Others concur with this sense of loss.
“Azzie’s is the final straw,” said College fourth-year Drew Miller. “Our entire college experience has been disrupted by construction. I’m not giving Oberlin [anything] in donations as an alum.”
She and others tied the disappointment over Azzie’s to increasingly diminished student life over the years.
The Azariah’s Cafe employees feel it, too. Azzie’s employee Lily Hessekiel, College fourth-year, went further, calling the bookstore “an eyesore” and “an extra attack on our ability to interact.” They pointed out that Oberlin already lacks spaces to congregate freely, without oversight.
“Azzie’s was that place for many people,” Hessekiel said. “You didn’t have to spend money to be there. Now the seating is gone, the socializing is gone, and mobile ordering has made it even worse.”
Meanwhile, the bookstore staff describes excitement from parents, Board members, and first-years who don’t know what they’ve lost. Michelle, the bookstore manager, told me that she was thrilled with alumni and Board of Trustees enthusiasm, pointing to new Conservatory gear and better branding, all with the excitement of a smaller carbon footprint for textbooks. But her perspective — focused on optics for parents, Board members, and alumni — highlights exactly how student needs are not prioritized by College administration, let alone considered. Students see the change for what it is: a downgrade of a beloved third space into a merch store with a glorified mailroom.
The change is not about vitality, it is about convenience and optics that serve the administration and the administration only. While the change offers investment into the B.A./B.F.A. program, there is an undeniable “sacrifice of character,” as College fourth-year Marco Fuortes put it, to preserve a more profitable public image in support of the bottom line. This is a downgrade from the resource of Azzie’s that was once available to students. In our digital age, community bonds are already being tested like never before, and I am embarrassed to attend a college that is actively getting in the way of community-building within its student body. Winter is coming, and soon all the quads will become less viable hangout spots. Wilder is less accessible than ever before, and students are left with nowhere to go, nowhere to just be. It is often said, and cringed at, but we are losing third spaces like never before, and at an allegedly progressive academic institution like Oberlin, that is unacceptable. We must protect the student community from the negligence of the administration that threatens it. Without community, we cannot organize, and without student unity, our voices will be silenced. Get angry and speak up; complaints and opinions submitted to the Office of Communications, the Azariah S. Root Director of College Libraries, and the Office of the Dean of Students can go a long way if enough support is vocalized.
As the people paying to keep Oberlin alive today, we deserve to be prioritized today, not in the next 100 years of Oberlin.
