In my sophomore year at Dartmouth, I auditioned for the Dog Day Players — a highly competitive campus improv group. At least 100 people showed up to the initial audition. We were packed into a lecture hall, way over capacity. We filled every seat, poured out onto the staircase and lined the walls. It was loud and boisterous. People puffed their chests, deepened their voices and exuded extroverted confidence. I knew I had to make a strong impression. Despite having no prior experience, I managed to make the room roar with laughter and was selected, among a few others, for a second round.
The callback offered just one chance to prove myself; one scene would decide my destiny. Overwhelmed with nerves, I bombed. I was given the word “wave” and created an uninspired scenario where my scene partner and I were running from a tsunami and nothing else really happened. Another wave — one of defeat — washed over me later that night, when an email confirmed my rejection.
All three new members who were selected for that cycle came from prep schools, where they had been doing theater or improv for many years. The final roster reflected not only talent but also privilege and access and contributed to a club makeup that skewed predominantly white.
This rejection led me to reflect on a broader issue. At Dartmouth and other elite colleges, selective campus organizations often serve as paths to career-shaping opportunities. Their often opaque and exclusive selection processes, however, can reinforce systemic inequalities. While my individual experience may not represent all campus groups, it raises important questions about how we structure opportunity on campus.
Clubs are not just extracurriculars, but also vital platforms for mentorship, networking and skill-building — often setting students on paths to success in competitive industries. Involvement in improv and theater are especially valuable for students hoping to break into industries like entertainment or media — fields already plagued by a lack of diverse representation and structural barriers. Beyond the tangible benefits of experience and connections, student groups are communities where like-minded peers can offer each other encouragement and validation — fuel to keep going. Dartmouth economics professor Bruce Sacerdote found, in a 2001 study conducted on Dartmouth’s campus, that roommates significantly impacted students’ academic performance and decisions throughout college. In other words, the people we surround ourselves with can directly shape our trajectories. Students who are excluded from campus organizations may lose the chance to fully benefit from this powerful peer effect. I wouldn’t go so far as to say involvement in a student organization can make or break a person, but these groups can redefine what someone believes is possible for themselves, open hidden doors and save someone years of playing catch up.
A student committed to breaking into an industry where the group provides critical access and mentorship deserves a fair chance, regardless of whether they enter with the same advantages as their peers. Expecting students from underrepresented or less privileged backgrounds to make up for years of inequitable access to training and resources through extraordinary talent is an unfair burden to place on anyone. This can perpetuate a cycle in which the same groups of students continue to win important resources, connections and opportunities that help them to dominate student groups and activities.
Dartmouth’s uniquely insular campus culture only exacerbates these inequities. Like fraternities and sororities, selective organizations often double as status symbols. A quick walk around campus reveals Greek letters plastered on sweatshirts, water bottles and laptops — used, like luxury logos, as a visible assertion of belonging and identity. Social hierarchies are reinforced through exclusive events like private formals or auto-bid senior societies, where membership is by nomination and connections are currency. These groups wield significant influence both on campus and beyond, offering social clout and tangible advantages like powerful networking opportunities. In a small, isolated college town, where much of campus life revolves around who you know and where you belong, these dynamics take on outsized importance. Many students will naturally gravitate toward the groups with the most visibility, influence or perceived prestige. Belonging to such groups can feel like a way to gain power or even legitimacy — both socially and professionally. But this culture of exclusivity often amplifies existing disparities, leaving those without access to such networks further on the margins.
Critics may argue that exclusivity is necessary to maintain high standards. After all, no one wants an a cappella group with a singer who can’t carry a tune. But here’s the truth: it’s not that serious. It’s college — a bubble you’ll live in for about four years. Beyond that, this is your reminder that we’re floating on a rock in outer space. It’s hard to argue that one well-oiled improv show in a frat basement, for example, is really worth denying a motivated student four years of a community that could have helped them to grow, develop their confidence and build the connections they needed for a future in entertainment.
In fact, the most meaningful experiences often come from striving together — from messy, communal efforts to accomplish an ambitious goal. What stays with you are the relationships you built, the hurdles you overcame together and the raw idealism you shared with a peer to create something greater than you ever could alone. These are the experiences that truly form us as people.
In the real world, the stakes are undeniably higher. Beating out competition is often necessary for survival,
and exclusivity can sometimes reflect the realities of limited resources. But college is a uniquely supportive environment, where experimentation, failure and growth should be encouraged and facilitated. Colleges like Dartmouth are designed to prepare students for those high-stakes environments — not to replicate their harsh inequities.
This is not to say that student groups can’t have standards. But they should make those standards more explicit and be more transparent in their selections. How was success measured? What were their decisions based on? What evidence do they have to back up their choices? Through more thoughtful processes, we can balance maintaining high standards with creating a more equitable system.
This could look like conducting holistic evaluations that consider candidates’ backgrounds, challenges and career goals. Interviews or written applications can assess a candidate’s aspirations and potential for growth. To prevent arbitrary or biased decision-making, it’s important to provide candidates with clear criteria for admission and to share written evaluations. Knowing what it takes to succeed or how one could improve would empower applicants to produce their best work and learn from their failures. In professional workplaces, these practices are standard. Managers are expected to set clear performance expectations, create tailored mentorship plans and provide actionable feedback during regular check-ins. Vague or inconsistent feedback, considered a hallmark of discriminatory practices in the workplace, is often left unchecked on campus. Past the application stage, group leaders can emulate this model by setting clear performance goals and crafting mentorship plans that allow students to grow into their roles, rather than relying on initial barriers that perpetuate inequality. Oversight from a diversity, equity and inclusion committee could provide an additional layer of accountability, offering students a third party to consult with and address concerns about bias. These changes would make selection processes more equitable and align them with the broader mission of higher education: to help students grow and prepare for the future.
Dartmouth has already demonstrated its commitment to equity through initiatives like holistic, need-blind admissions. Furthermore, the Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act, which gives students the right to view their education records and thus correct inaccurate or misleading information, holds admissions officers accountable for their decision-making and opens up a reciprocal relationship between students and their higher-ups. However, equity cannot stop at the admissions office. The commitment to inclusivity must extend to every aspect of campus life, including the organizations that shape students’ futures. Dartmouth has long prided itself on fostering a close-knit community. By embracing transparency and inclusivity, campus leaders can ensure that every student who climbed an uphill battle to get to Dartmouth has a fair chance to thrive.
As President Donald Trump’s administration aims to eliminate diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives, this is a pivotal moment for the student body to lead by example and reaffirm its commitment to fairness. To the students who oversee these groups, recognize the power you hold as gatekeepers to opportunity. Wield it consciously.
Leslie An is a member of the Class of 2021. Guest columns represent the views of their author(s), which are not necessarily those of The Dartmouth.
