Let’s play a game. I’ll give you three room descriptions and you guess whether they are from a Brown residence hall or a five-star hotel. Here’s the first: floor-to-ceiling windows, hardwood flooring, temperature controlled, and located near multiple good places to eat (one could say that the food is too good). The second: modern exterior, complementary in-house gym, spacious closet. The third: flushable in-room toilets, three double beds, cozy environment.

Maybe you guessed that the first was a luxury hotel in New York City, the second from a trendy hotel in Seattle, and the third from a code-compliant hostel in Laredo. But the truth is that all of them are offered by Brown Residential Life.

While these descriptions are (unlike the dorm bathrooms) heavily sanitized, they underscore the fact that housing at Brown is really good. Even as I write this, a used tampon is being fished out of the plumbing system, three-days-old excreted remnants of a Jo’s salad are being scrubbed from the toilet seat in restroom 277, and CSC is hard at work not fixing the washing machines. Where else would you experience this level of service?

Though I am not necessarily upset about the habitability of Brown dorms, I worry that livable dorms reflect a larger trend of setting increasingly unrealistic expectations for what is considered fit for human use. As universities offer increasingly absurd amenities like electricity and running water, they risk losing the simple and endearing aspects of college that make it a meaningful experience.

We really have it good compared to other universities. At some universities, dorms used to suffer from flooding. Meanwhile, the dorms in Keeney basement are widely considered to be the best Brown has to offer, and have never once flooded in recent history. Exposure to lead paint has never occurred at Brown facilities such as Donovan House, and our cooling systems are so good that ResLife has been able to ban portable air conditioning units entirely without compromising the health of students during the summer months. 

This level of luxury is a sign of cultural decadence. Our forefathers inhaled asbestos, exposed themselves to lead, and endured heat stroke like the champs they were. There’s something satisfying about carcinogens, neurotoxins, and heat-related injuries that we risk losing out on whenever we complain about student housing. By making our dorms livable, we risk forgetting the value of suffering. ResLife must take swift action to stop this cultural degeneracy in its tracks.

Since these columns are supposed to actually provide solutions instead of idly pontificating against our own interests, let me provide four. Firstly, we need to halt all abatement of asbestos from old dorm buildings. After all, you can’t spell “asbestos” without “best.” Secondly, let’s remove all the dormitory bathrooms. Quite frankly, I’m fed up with people complaining about trivial things like “no hot water,” “toilets not flushing” or “cockroaches in shower.” If you want to take a shower, you either go to the CIT or dance naked in the rain. Thirdly, no more accessibility features. This should be easy enough to implement considering how many of our dorms lack basic accessibility features like ramps and elevators. Lastly, no more heating in the winter (don’t forget to ban personal space heaters too). By doing this, we’ll once again enjoy the ordinary, somewhat bothersome experiences that make college unique.

Victor Chang ‘27 can be reached at [email protected]. Please send responses to this column to [email protected] and other opinions to the exact same email address.