Walking through the halls of Samuel Phillips Hall or weaving through crowds at Paresky Commons, I’m constantly struck by how different everyone is in background, identity, and lived experience. This commitment to learning, which happens not just through books and instruction, but through exposure to perspectives that differ from our own, is Andover’s greatest strength. Therefore, celebrating Martin Luther King, whose name remains inseparable from the relentless pursuit of inclusion and diversity, aligns perfectly with Andover’s core mission of “youth from every quarter.” And while I’m confident that our student body affirms this concept intellectually, it appears the winds of apathy linger quietly with the falling snow. Among my friends, classmates, and people I’ve spoken to, some are content with Andover’s commitment to uplifting marginalized voices. Many students are excited to either host or attend a workshop that aligns with aspects of their identity. On the other hand, others are less enthusiastic at the thought of attending mandatory talks that chip away at their time to spend with friends or recharge after a (many would agree) grueling start of term. Therefore, many walk to their workshop begrudgingly, tuning out the speaker’s words. As a consequence of mandatory reflection, students have stopped caring, resorting to simply showing up while remaining mentally disengaged.
I’m not here to disregard or demonize anyone for their lack of passion. I think most students fall somewhere in the middle of enthusiastic and apathetic, and that’s perfectly normal. But I do find the spectrum of reactions to be fascinating. I attribute this phenomenon to performative inclusivity which is the active dramatization of diversity efforts, advocating for moral satisfaction rather than spreading awareness and grappling with the nuances of social justice issues. It manifests itself when institutions substitute diversity education with flashy ceremonies and student groups stage events rather than bring real awareness and while neglecting to do the concrete, uncomfortable work that brings about change. When public displays of inclusion replace sustained measures for promoting inclusion, it can feel more symbolic rather than lived, replacing sincerity with enthusiasm. Replacing real, grueling effort with overly idealistic displays of performity erases the struggle marginalized groups undertook to bring about our present reality. While the takeaway shouldn’t be to make these events optional, this notion is worth noting. Andover’s overemphasis on the slogan of diversity, rather than exploring what it actually entails, further removes students from authentically connecting with the efforts of diversity. It leads them to dismiss the importance of inclusion efforts, as their lived reality makes diversity an unshakeable pillar. Inclusivity becomes performative, not out of malice but often from overcompensation.
Additionally, the school’s well-intentioned attempt to make MLK Day “On” a school tradition by compressing multiple workshops into one single day ends up simply being overwhelming and overly symbolic to the majority. This, in turn, contributes to students’ feelings of fatigue or disengagement. Students may feel that once MLK Day concludes, the work is over, the mental boxes of moral obligation have been checked, and all responsibility has been dissolved until the following year. Conversations about social justice become minimized to simply another task to finish, rather than a dynamic, evolving notion that should be discussed on a daily basis. Instead of awareness and action, performity and apathy remain when reflection is mandated.
Reflection is not something that can be forced. It is not something that everyone reciprocates in equal measures. Topics like identity, class issues, and the prevailing history of race-based discrimination in the United States are complicated ones that cannot be resolved in a single day. Therefore, rather than compressing reflection to a single day, Andover should foster an ongoing, low-pressure environment that facilitates conversation. This might mean incorporating lessons on identity in the classroom or in student-led forums where opinions can be shared freely. The CAMD Scholar program perfectly captures this notion — by shifting the conversation from mandatory to actively pursued. Through this expansion of the conversations held about diversity, themes of identity grow beyond obligation to genuine interest, facilitating the community that Andover prides itself on having.
If Andover truly wishes to commit to fostering an intentionally diverse community, then it must be willing to sit with the discomfort of the complexities it entails every day. Therefore, it is vital to expand the conversation beyond just MLK day, but in the days that follow, when reflection is no longer required, and sincerity becomes a choice, not a requirement. Doing so doesn’t have to be complex. Expanding programs like CAMD or forming new initiatives, based on an ever-evolving student body, can begin to propel our community towards authenticity. By doing so, Andover allows a greater proportion of its student body to add fragments of their identity to our community. When students are given the resources to engage on their own terms, diversity stops feeling abstract and, rather, becomes a palpable reality of our student body. This is how a diverse community sustains itself: through the warmth of active participation, blowing away the winds of apathy.
