Sometimes, I wonder, is this the Yale of myths? 

The same Yale that can’t maintain basic facilities, like laundry? Where some of my professors would rather I come to class sick than record a lecture? The Yale where Henry Kissinger can decide the fate of the Grand Strategy program, while students can’t decide their academic fate themselves?

Yeah, that Yale. Entering this institution, I knew money had sway. I mean, Stephen Schwarzman ’69 grew up not even five miles away from my home — the only difference between us is that he has a building named after him and I don’t. Oh yeah, he also grew up in the wealthy suburbs of Philadelphia and I grew up in the poorest big city in the United States. Entering Yale, I didn’t realize Yale thought I was low income, but I knew this was a wealthy space. 

Yet, I refuse to complain about my wealthier classmates. They exist within a system they did not create and haven’t had a chance to influence yet. As we gain influence, we must destroy the inequities that perpetuate wealth and invest in communities of color and those with little wealth. 

The real issue is that Yale does not humanize its students. I am a number occupying a bed in Pierson College, registered in five courses, that often does not use its breakfast swipe, that scans into Bass Library on weekday evenings. Yale administrators may identify me because I choose to pester them through my advocacy, but I am just a number that will go into archives, whenever 36 credits register in my data and a dean of undergraduate studies approves my courses and thesis as degree-worthy. I’m a name attached to a number to my professors, who are overwhelmed and have no time to build the personal connections Yale expressed would happen organically.

 I am a number that, more importantly, does not contribute much to the Yale University endowment because the paperwork submitted depicts me as poor. Maybe later, I will be a number that will contribute another number to the endowment, but for now, I am just a number that the administration sees as a community service project, an effort to support a few nonwealthy individuals to seem progressive in admissions. Yet, once we are here, especially after the first year, Yale forgets about us.

I’ll stop with the number thing. I’m a human. My friends here, wealthy or not, are willing to humanize me and understand me as that — they listen to me and support me, and in return, I do the same. This institution does not. It does not acknowledge my humanity, or any student’s. Yet, low-income students are most detrimentally impacted.

When students demand more from Yale, we do not ask out of greed or to complain. At the forefront of every movement are marginalized students, demanding basic changes from Yale. On top of schoolwork, students are expected to bargain for basic amenities, like access to better mental health care. Like access to dental care. Is it too much to ask for this?

Those are just demands that Yalies have asked for publicly and the institution has declined, whether it says it has or not. Yale’s bureaucracy and financial interests prioritize the needs of the wealthy who donate — the $150 million Schwarzman Center can be prioritized while water filters aren’t changed. Again, Henry Kissinger can govern the Grand Strategy program because of a donor, while the ethnicity, race and migration major was disinvested from. We have a residential college with a tulip fund, but Yalies on full aid are denied Safety Net requests. We toss out food in compost containers while students are given less than ideal portions in isolation housing. Yale does not care.

Yale disregards all of its students, but the low-income ones suffer the most, for they cannot afford another meal out at a New Haven establishment or to get medicine or treatment outside of Yale Health. Low-income students do not necessarily have an escape and cannot use outside resources because they are too expensive. Yale ensures that low-income students are reliant on it for food, medicine and health care services and then fails to provide quality care when needed. More importantly, the institution continues to strip New Haven of non-Yale resources, monopolizing student and community reliance on Yale more and more, regardless of the poor quality of care. This happens as Yale’s affiliated hospital purchases competing health care providers and the University does not pay taxes to the city to invest in its growth. All who are forcibly made reliant are harmed with the decisions Yale administrators make while sitting in their iv(or)y tower. 

I conclude this with an invitation to the Yale Corporation, Yale Administration and those who make decisions about how I exist while on this campus to come stay in Pierson College, miss a few breakfasts, come to my classes, visit Bass with me and humanize me. Come try to fit in a lunch while having back to back classes, or maybe skip a meal with me when my schedule does not allow time for that. Come to a Yale Mental Health and Counseling intake appointment — you may have to wait a few months to get anywhere, though. Come figure out if we failed the final and should have Credit/D/Failed or if the schedule you forced me to make while I had three midterms even makes sense anymore. Come struggle to apply to the Safety Net because the instructions are inaccurate. Maybe join me for dinner with a faculty member at a restaurant I cannot afford myself because expressing academic and financial wealth is integral to the University mission. And come with me to a class of 2024 dinner at Commons to see where Yale chooses to invest its massive endowment. 

Welcome to my Yale. Picturesque wealth powers through. Students, especially low-income ones, are left behind. I don’t feel comfortable saying we will get through it. I don’t know what emotional toll Yale’s dehumanization of students has had on others. I do know that the people on the Yale Corporation and leading Yale are out of touch. I invite them to step down from their towers and walk in our shoes, experience our lives. In my time here, I will continue to call out this out of touch nature and I invite all of my classmates to do so too. The inequities of the Yale of the past are not “traditions” nor normal — Yale needs to change and humanize us all. 

Viktor Shamis-Kagan is a sophomore in Pierson College. Contact him at viktor.shamis-kagan@yale.edu