Any action or situation, regardless of intention, whether on or off Kenyon premises, that results in or has the potential of resulting in physical, mental, or emotional harm; discomfort; embarrassment; harassment; or distress to a group’s members or prospective members.  

This vague, unhelpful description is Kenyon College’s official definition of hazing. Whether this definition drives Kenyon’s frustrating ideology on hazing or merely reflects it, the campus rhetoric on hazing needs to be seriously and thoughtfully examined.

Hazing is a serious issue: in Ohio, at Kenyon, everywhere. When people are ritualistically degraded, pressured into doing harm to themselves or others, or, as we’ve seen countless times, forced to drink so much that they die, something clearly has to be done. However, in trying to protect the student body (and itself from liability), Kenyon has greatly restricted the ability for students to honor tradition, build camaraderie and use their best judgements for fear of “hazing” repercussions. As the manager of the softball team, I understand firsthand how hazing policies are communicated and internalized. Kenyon’s failure to provide specific and useful policy with regard to hazing leaves students vulnerable to harm while restricting a lot of what makes that college spirit what it is.

For starters, the change to the traditional New Student Sing at the beginning of the year was a major misstep. The school moved the event to take place before returning students moved in to avoid heckling that could be seen as bullying or harassment. Personally, I loved being heckled while poorly singing our school songs. I bonded with my classmates while staring down the community I was so excited to become a part of. I did not feel embarrassed or degraded; I felt like they showed up to take part in a tradition and welcome me to the school with the same fun they had. To me, that isn’t hazing, and I was sad this year to not be able to give the first-years that same experience.

Beyond that, I have noticed a condemnation of “mandatory events” from Kenyon’s administration. From unofficial team hangouts to even orientation group meetings, nothing is allowed to be mandatory. Although it is said somewhat jokingly, any invite to anything I’ve seen from a member of the team ends with the disclaimer: not mandatory. Teams are explicitly told of the possible harms that can come out of people feeling forced to attend events.

When every event is emphasized as acceptable to skip, it becomes easy to see important opportunities as more of a light suggestion than a necessary stepping stone. As a first-year, it is easy to think you know what is best, while in reality, there is a lot of stuff that you have to be forced to do that will benefit you in the long run. Sometimes you need someone who knows better — someone who has done it before — to make you show up and put in the effort. As a result, attempts to help people become fully involved and united within certain groups have disappeared. 

Besides being frustrated with all the restrictions in place, I am also scared about the danger that these hazing prevention policies can cause. On a smaller scale, I am concerned about the degeneration of community and fun. On a much larger scale, I am concerned about the real dangers when hazing policies are as broad as ours. I once suggested the idea of an upperclassman inviting all the first-years from our team over as a way to bond. But based on the hazing criteria we had been given in our official hazing meeting the school requires every year, there was concern that the aspect of purposefully singling out the first-years could potentially be deemed hazing. In my experience with the softball team, everyone wants to create the most safe and welcoming environment possible, so we take these overzealous regulations very seriously, sometimes in a way that feels to the detriment of the team. However, it is too easy to imagine someone who decides that since regulations on team dinners are absurd, all hazing regulations are absurd, and from there the possibility for real harm to result is too high. 

With such a vague yet strict policy, students will start making the decision about which initiations are acceptable and which go too far, and it is leaving this distinction up to individual students that could result in extreme forms of hazing. There is a clear difference between telling the first-years to bond by organizing a group dance and leaving someone for dead in the snow with no protection, and the College needs to draw that line a lot better. 

Perhaps it is naïve to believe this, but I think Kenyon is the type of place where people care about each other and do things with purpose. People don’t generally belittle those with less power for fun, especially the leadership of organizations who just want a well-functioning group where people can have fun and feel safe. There should be zero tolerance when this isn’t the case and hazing is actually occurring and harming people. However, it is frustrating when well-intentioned people feel unable to do things that would be helpful because it could count as hazing by the school’s superficially strict hazing policy. Hazing is a real issue that needs to be taken seriously, so when the school baselessly eliminates fun and worthwhile traditions and experiences in the name of hazing, it is especially frustrating. Kenyon needs to reevaluate how it approaches hazing in a way that is thoughtful and precise instead of the lazy catch-all approach the College uses now. 

Dalia Fishman ’27 is a philosophy and religious studies major from McLean, Virginia. She can be reached at fishman2@kenyon.edu.