The following is a guest contribution and reflects the authors’ views alone. For information on how to submit a piece to the Opinion section, click here.
Being independent at Spelman Hall was one of the best decisions of my Princeton career. Yet, this week Princeton’s administrators announced they would eliminate independent status based on a study that reported that independent students felt socially isolated. But to eliminate an entire dining program that holds an abundance of historical significance and social meaning to many students enrolled — and to force them to enroll in and pay for a dining plan many of them don’t even want — is disappointing to see as an alumnus. This policy overlooks the abundance of potential that the independent program has.
My first meal in Spelman Hall, long the home of independent students, took place during Super Bowl XXV in the winter of 1991. I was a first-year, still on campus after exams, alone and unaware of the few food options available. And I was hungry.
Leonza “Leon” Newsome ’92 and some other upperclass football players had folks over to watch the game. They had one of those enormous catering trays filled with miniature chicken parts, obligatory vegetables, and ranch dressing. Even though there was plenty of food, I silently vowed to eat no more than my share. Five pieces seemed reasonable. I wanted more, but taking more risked exposing just how famished I was. My eyes, however, devoured the entire tray. After the Giants beat the Bills, Leon handed me the rest of the tray to take home. I suspect he grasped my situation, but he framed his gesture as me helping him tidy up. That day, I made myself a promise: If I ever saw a student who seemed hungry or lonely, I’d feed them.
In 1992, my sophomore year, while my classmates were busy figuring out which eating clubs to join, I was doing room-draw calculus. Most Spelman Hall setups had four bedrooms and a bathroom, kitchen, and living room to share. A points-based weighted lottery system, similar to the one that was in effect until this past year, favored seniority and independents. Based on past housing patterns, I figured a group of four independents, including one senior, would be enough to secure a spot. It worked.
While others were jockeying between bicker, non-bicker, and the short-lived experiment called “snicker,” I was dreaming of cooking cheesecakes and chicken fettuccine. That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy the Street — I might be the only independent male to have attended Houseparties all four years. I just knew the clubs there wouldn’t fully satisfy my needs.
I used to joke that I wanted neither to be interviewed by the bicker clubs nor to be stuck with people who didn’t bicker or got hosed. The truth was more personal: I’m a loner who enjoys occasional crowds but needs solitude to recharge. The Street was fun but exhausting. Spelman offered a haven for me. I enjoyed the mayhem and dancing at the Street, but 94 percent of the time, I was a homebody.
And I kept my promise: Whether it was a birthday party I threw for myself with six different desserts and indiscriminate admission; a lasagna dinner for the entire men’s track team; hosting friends with sushi, pasta-making, or French press coffee skills; trading home-cooked meals for dinner passes to the Street; joining with other Spelmanites for a block party or a potluck; or treating friends on their birthdays, I fed people. I hosted intersession stragglers. I cooked weekly for my roommates. I fed folks until it hurt.
I made the most of that dorm, not just for myself, but for others who needed warmth and nourishment and intimacy.
So I read about the University’s decision to eliminate the independent dining option with mixed feelings. I appreciate that Princeton is no stranger to bold cultural shifts. If Spelman were being razed to make way for something more beautiful, more space efficient, or grand enough to draw a $100 million donation, I’d understand. Progress has a cost. Sentimentality about independence doesn’t pay much.
But what I find less palatable is this: In response to a study showing that independent students experienced isolation, the solution was to eliminate independence. Requiring independents to eat in the dining halls is simply compulsion disguised as good policy.
Nostalgia has its place, yet adulthood means accepting that our experiences don’t have to be replicated. The world moves on. But I will pause. For the budding chefs, the quirky palates, the ones who find peace and meaning in preparing food alone or in small gatherings, I mourn the loss of home-cooked meals by the people who appreciate them most. I grieve late-night lasagnas, modest birthday spreads, and introverted celebrations that happened in independent kitchens, not dining halls. Spelman independents brought diversity not just in background, but in how we built community.
Campus and campus culture evolve. The Third World Center was demolished and now we have the Carl A. Fields Center. The Wawa’s location has shifted, and so has the Dinky’s, again. Back in my day, we could ignite a Duraflame log in our dorm room fireplaces after running drunk and naked through the snow. In retrospect, these changes have served us well.
But with this latest transition, I hope Princeton won’t lose sight of those who contribute quietly, the students who cook in cozy kitchens, with full plates and open doors. Let’s preserve the Independent dining option and the choice to be in community on one’s own terms.
Otis B. Jennings, Ph.D. is a member of the Class of 1994 and spent his junior and senior years in Spelman Hall. These days he is the chief data scientist of HeirShares and the founder of CARD3D, a customized 3D greeting card company. He may be reached at otis@card3d-studio.com
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