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BALLARO: We left behind more than we thought

Column: 'Round About Town

When it comes the Rutgers experience, particularly dorms, there is a lot of good, bad and ugly. But there are also reasons to miss the imperfect campus. – Photo by Rutgers.edu

Trigger warning: This column contains references to sexual assault.

Rutgers housing is a messy topic.

In my three years in Rutgers residence halls, I cannot really say I enjoyed my time. When I was in the Livingston Towers, I was plagued by incessant heat. Every floor was a temperature increase and every night was slept in sweat.

When I moved to the College Avenue campus to be closer to my classes, I did not really trade up for something much better.

Asbestos in the walls. Rooms whose walls sweat when the slightest humidity is present. Roaches curled up in death in the basements. I get it, it comes with living in a building built in the '60s. What I did not expect was social exclusion, isolation and alienation. 

In groups that would form like vestiges of high school cliques. Too many secret group chats. Too much talking behind people’s backs. Too many fakes smiles and whispers in the night.

Sexual harassment and assault were a reality of dorm living that I also did not expect. Too many boundaries pushed. Too many no's ignored. Too many please-stops behind locked doors. 

I knew growing up and growing out of my childhood home meant conflict. I just did not think rape happening down the hall was part of that.

Rutgers housing was a hell house in a lot of ways. The walls were dreary, white tiles yellowed, dark winters enveloping. Fluorescent lights burning retinas and burning souls.

I was sad seeing the email about our six-month spring break, but I was relieved I got to leave it behind.

And yet I would be lying if I did not mention my warmer feelings and memories.

Secret backdoor drinking parties. Burning illegal candles to host impromptu seances. There were deep conversations made in the unisex bathrooms at 2 a.m., that twilight when fraternity party stragglers sobered up in their dirty white shoes.

First-year, it was inexplicable and magical, the people I would meet in the strangest places. Third-year, I was explaining to first-year students that it was only natural and how all good friendships started. I got to see past versions of myself walking through the same steps I once made.

Time spent agonizing over Expository Writing essays at 3 a.m. Warnings made about having an intimate partner from another floor. Consoling crying ones, giving Pedialyte to girls who had too much to drink. I am still sorry for breaking you-know-who's collectible Los Angeles Lakers mug! Glass mugs on college floors are not a good idea.

There were other things too. Handing out 327 condoms in two weeks. Direct messages to come knocking at my door and slip a handful out.

Sharing an emergency Plan B kept in my dresser for someone who needed it. That was a funny story, getting asked if I took Apple Pay for emergency contraception. Obviously no, I did not, because helping out a dorm-mate is always free. 

Everyone was an artist and I could not help but embrace my inner one too. Ink spilled, controversial paintings made. Slouched in halls writing opinions pieces after knocking on doors for opinions. I met famous painters, revolutionary writers and foundational songwriters. They are just not famous yet, but I know they will be in time.

There was a cyclic nature a part of human life I had come to understand from college living.

When I moved in first-year, with a friend helping me lift an ottoman up seven flights of stairs, I did not know what was ahead of me. I did not know the years of pain I was stepping into. I did not know the foolish journey I had begun. It is hard to say anything sumptitive about it all. It never comes back black and white, just a heavy rainbow of saturated gray.

My life would be on a very different path if I did not dive headfirst into Rutgers living. I hit my head on the cement but was surprised at how many eventually came to my rescue, from places I would never expect.

What are we even doing now? Is taking a shower without flip-flops all it is cracked up to be? Was there maybe something beautiful in the flicker of cheap LED lights?

I am not really sure what to think.

When we left behind Rutgers, we left a lot more than we thought.

Anthony Ballaro is a School of Arts and Sciences senior majoring in classics and public health. His column, "Round About Town," runs on alternate Thursdays.


*Columns, cartoons and letters do not necessarily reflect the views of the Targum Publishing Company or its staff.

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