The Robbins faculty and students gathered in the dorm TV room on a cold November night. Snacks lay scattered across the tabletop, and as we awaited the DEIJ speakers to arrive, soft chat could be heard around the room. Beneath the atmosphere of anticipation, currents of unease ran quietly.
My friends and I immediately began discussing the imminent talk.
“Finally, they’re addressing this issue!”
“I wonder what they’ll talk about this time.…”
“How will people react?”
Leaning back on the couch, I closed my eyes for a moment of tranquility, only to catch some murmurs in the background.
“Ugh! This again? How many times have we done this already?”
“I’m so tired of this.”
“What a waste of our time. I have work to do.”
When three DEIJ board members entered the room, some students near the front sat up straight, their phones tucked away. Others snuggled deeper into the back corner, hoping to disappear from the conversation.
The night before, three other DEIJ board members stepped through the doors of Goodwin House. It seemed that the session was proceeding smoothly until the crowd grew rather rowy; after the first few whispers had arisen from the crowd, they turned into chuckles before becoming outright interruptions.
At one point, the DEIJ board asked whether it was true that pink was for girls and blue for boys. An exclamation cut through the board member’s question: “Gender reveal!” The crowd immediately started banging their fists on the tables, filling the room with cheers. The whole room had broken into chaos, and the DEIJ speakers could only watch as the educational discussion unraveled into something closer to a riot.
Imagine being in the position of a board member who was there: you and two other peers standing in front of absolute pandemonium, wanting nothing but to share your thoughts and listen to others, only to be overwhelmed by disrespectful voices that have no desire for meaningful dialogue. How can one categorize that as a civil conversation?
Despite the widespread nature of these gender talks, the pandemic of hate against marginalized identities remains ongoing. GLAAD’s (formerly known as Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation, now advocating for the entirety of the LGBTQ+ community) Anti-LGBTQ+ Extremism Reporting Tracker reflected a total of 932 anti-LGBTQ incidents between May 1, 2024, and May 1, 2025 in the United States, a number that can be translated to 2.5 incidents a day. From a panoramic viewpoint, hate crimes against gender diversity have not decreased after these countless educational talks across the nation; in many cases, they have only intensified.
This reality too often goes unacknowledged, but it pulls Milton’s own campus conversations into sharper focus.
The problem isn’t apathy. The true reason why students can’t grasp the gravity of these discussions is their unawareness of the purpose and significance of these talks, as well as the importance of acknowledging different opinions. As Director of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion Melissa Lawlor states, the purpose of these talks seems to be misconstrued by students. They are not designed to be offensive criticisms of certain religious beliefs or personal values, nor are they lectures premeditated to impose an ideology. Ultimately, the talks are conversations that aim to enhance the respectful and educational exchange of opinions.
According to Lawlor, the origin of gender talks can be traced back to spring 2022. With the opening of Academy House, Milton’s first all-gender dorm, Lawlor and the DEIJ board found it important to provide support for the residents. In particular, dorm gender talks led by the DEIJ board were launched with the intent of answering a question: “Why does gender matter in residential spaces?”
The answer is simple. While easily trivialized, gender is deeply rooted in every community we belong to. Residents of non-Academy dorms may not consciously realize that everyone chooses their residential space because they identify with a certain gender. In essence, every one of us grapples with gender every day—it’s only that we fail to recognize it, whether intentionally or inadvertently.
Another purpose of the gender talks lies in highlighting the resources available for students who seek support. The DEIJ worried that, as new residents of an unprecedented living environment, students in Academy House might be confronted with identity-based situations. It was important, therefore, for Academy residents—as well as other students who might seek identity-related support—to know what options they had for help.
Some students criticized the conversations for causing discomfort to certain individuals who felt that their beliefs, their religious values in particular, were attacked. In no way, however, does the DEIJ and its mission aim to diminish anyone’s beliefs; in fact, its mission points to the opposite, to embrace a variety of perspectives. When introduced to a new perspective that might contradict their own, a student’s first reaction should not be to object but instead to consider how the other perspective could expand their understanding. With this mindset, we enable ourselves to lean into discomfort, discovering that a certain amount of it can lead to a deep sense of empathy for the people around us.
A community cannot develop, however, if its members refuse to acknowledge and listen to one another. Priding itself on education and diversity, Milton should be the last place where voices are drowned out by disruption, mockery, and close-mindedness. By staying open to different perspectives, we can maintain a respectful residential community without silencing the vulnerable. Perhaps then, our willingness to discuss with one another may speak louder than the disruptive noise ever did.