Imagine this: It’s your first year on Vanderbilt’s campus, and you’re looking for new friends. You’re nervous, and one of the many pieces of advice that’s been pushed upon you is to simply be open and approach as many people as possible — easier said than done. Soon, despite exchanging socials with hundreds of other freshmen and striking up conversations as best as you can, you notice that groups are being formed more quickly than you can even process, and the barrier between you and friendship quickly starts to feel impenetrable. That’s no problem; you can always try clubs. Surely, the common ground of having similar interests, cultural backgrounds or values can allow you to bridge the relationship gap between you and your peers on campus, right?
Wrong. Incredibly, despite this being the first general board meeting, everyone has already managed to form close-knit friend groups, complete with niche inside jokes — everyone except you. You try to introduce yourself and join in on the conversation, but the side eyes and up-and-down glances tell you you’re intruding. Back in your dorm, you contemplate things you could potentially be doing wrong. Could it be that everyone else secretly has a playbook that tells them exactly what to do in social situations? It sure feels like it.
Although posed as a hypothetical, this was the reality of my first three semesters at Vanderbilt. It wasn’t that I wasn’t trying. I followed every piece of advice given to freshmen, from attending social events to putting myself out there in club meetings. But no matter how much effort I put in, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was always one step behind, trying to break into spaces that had already shut their doors. It became clear that Vanderbilt’s social circles weren’t forming by accident; they were solidifying with an almost unspoken exclusivity.
This sense of exclusion wasn’t just my own experience, but something that I started to notice everywhere. Students gravitated toward familiar faces, reinforcing pre-existing groups rather than making room for new friendships. Club meetings, dorm gatherings and even casual meals at Commons — every space subtly reinforced an “in-group” and “out-group” dynamic. And for those on the outside, the experience was isolating, frustrating and disheartening. Sophomore Yasmine Ahmed recounted her experience of feeling excluded within student organizations.
“It was really weird, because sometimes they would let other people in, but I guess they had their own checklist, and if you didn’t meet these certain requirements in their head, then you weren’t part of this group. Oftentimes I was feeling really left out, and it’s not like I didn’t attempt to join the conversation, or, like, converse with them, but it was clear that they kind of had their own thing going on, and they weren’t really looking to include any others,” said Ahmed.
Cliquiness on campus isn’t just a minor social inconvenience; it creates invisible barriers that prevent students from forming meaningful relationships across different groups. These barriers not only limit social interactions but also restrict personal growth, discourage diverse friendships and ultimately undermine the sense of belonging that college is supposed to foster.
According to its admissions website, Vanderbilt boasts a student population of around 7,000 undergraduates, representing all 50 states and over 100 countries. According to the university’s most recent diversity data, about 39% of undergraduates identify as white, 19% Asian or Pacific Islander, 11% international, 11% Hispanic, 9% Black, 6% bi- or multi-racial, 4% unknown race and less than 1% Native American. The school also proudly advertises over 450 student organizations, covering everything from cultural affinity groups and service organizations to pre-professional societies and dance troupes.
On paper, our campus is incredibly diverse. Yet, that diversity is hardly represented across different identities. The pressure to remain within your own “group,” be it ethnic, nationality or socioeconomic, is ever-present. I recall a conversation I had freshman year with one of my friends, a fellow Questbridge Scholar, about the difficulty we had breaking into circles or even connecting beyond the surface level with students from significantly different socioeconomic backgrounds than us. “It’s almost like they can smell the poor,” we would chuckle to one another.
In fact, the number of conversations with peers about how fragmented campus feels is never-ending: national students lamenting that they never get to interact with the international students, transfers feeling disconnected from the rest of campus and, well, Greek Life. Each subsection of campus feels like its own elephant in the room. We all see the problem, yet it feels like nothing’s been done to change it.
From a social psychology standpoint, this situation is hardly surprising. Humans are naturally drawn to those who resemble them — whether in background, values or behavior. The theory of in-groups and out-groups explains how people subconsciously (or consciously) categorize others as “us” or “them,” reinforcing existing bonds while unintentionally excluding newcomers. This behavior can get supercharged at a place like Vanderbilt, where prestige and performance are quietly but constantly emphasized. Students cling to familiarity as a way to find safety and validation in a high-pressure environment, and in doing so, they unknowingly close themselves off to new people and perspectives.
At the end of the day, making people feel welcome and included shouldn’t be that hard — it’s something everyone should just do. It’s often undeniable when someone feels left out or excluded. Maybe not at first, but people notice when it becomes a pattern. Yet, most stay quiet or ignore it. That silence is part of the problem.
To bridge this gap, the first step is acknowledging that exclusion exists — even if it’s uncomfortable. From there, organizations and individuals must be willing to ask for honest feedback, especially from those who feel marginalized, and be open to making changes. This change means not just reacting when problems arise but proactively creating channels for feedback and growth. It also means recognizing that people are not just participants in organizations but individuals investing their time and seeking belonging.
Inclusivity is not about performative gestures or optics; it’s about consistently creating spaces where all members feel seen, valued and supported. That can look like adjusting leadership structures to better represent marginalized voices or rethinking practices that unintentionally alienate members.
For students seeking a sense of belonging, it’s essential to prioritize spaces where you feel genuinely respected and welcomed. Leaving environments that continually diminish your presence is not a failure — it’s self care. Meaningful connection often comes from constantly showing up in spaces that match your values and recognize your worth.
Ultimately, the work of building inclusive communities is ongoing. It starts with listening, continues through action and succeeds when organizations are willing to confront the gap between their intentions and impact. In the end, we shape Vanderbilt’s culture, and we have the power to make it a place where no one is left on the outside.
