The Orbis

Issue date: 5/1/10 Section: Opinion

Associate Director Michael Brown, Director Nora Spencer, and Program Coordinator Sarah Benanti of the Office of LGBTQI Life in the K.C. Potter Center pose for a holiday greeting

Choosing a college is tough. I've done it twice. The first time, I chose a good scholarship at a $20,000 liberal arts college on the southeast coast with a surprisingly large progressive community. Still, being the geek that I am, I decided that a life with daily beach trips but without academic rigor was not right for me. So, I pulled out my college guides once more and contemplated a transfer.

Spring arrived with my acceptance letters. George Washington, Georgetown, Boston College, Tufts, and Vanderbilt. My application to Vanderbilt was really an afterthought, a nice sentiment to show my family that I was not actually planning a life-long escape. I lived my entire life 20 minutes away from Vanderbilt and never considered applying to it the first go-round. My progressive compass pointed north. I was getting out. South be damned.

And then financial reality struck. Vanderbilt meant in-state tuition. It meant fewer plane tickets and more money in my pocket. So I put my Northern dreams on hold and hoped for the best.

The College Prowler warned me. "Choosing Vanderbilt means choosing to be in a situation where name-brand clothes and high-end cars have a certain amount of importance. Most students come from white upper-class families, and while they may not all fit the stereotype of wealthy snobs, money is in abundance for most on campus." Among its top ten "worst of Vanderbilt" rankings were lack of diversity, students' narrow worldview, and an apathetic student body.

Wary of my life at a stereotypically Southern university, I began plotting my game plan. I read through pages of student club listings and went to the Student Org Fair with a bucket list of my progressive finds. I remember there being few of them in comparison to my former school - a progressive paper here, an environmental group there, scattered among a sea of booths with Greek symbols and Judeo-Christian verses.

Later that week a friend pointed out Wilson Hall, where legend had it there was a monkey lab. Just like that, what was an informal side note became my first headline. I joined the progressive paper, scheduled an interview with a PETA primate specialist, and got my hands on the lab's USDA reports.

Continued...

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