Loneliness in residence is the quiet reality for many students, but with just a little effort we can turn residence into a warm community
By: Dawn McKee, Opinion Contributor
Moving into residence at McMaster is like stepping into a whole new world. After years of high school where we had our routines, our circles and our comfort zones, the jump to university is a huge change. A lot of us come in expecting a busy social life, imagining new friends and endless hangouts.
But for many, it doesn’t always work out that way. In fact, residence could often feel more isolating than you’d expect.
From what I’ve seen, the social scene in residence isn’t as open as it seems. People tend to stick with their dormmates, or if they’re lucky with friends from high school. While that may work for them, it can leave others, especially those without pre-existing friendships, feeling left out.
From what I’ve seen, the social scene in residence isn’t as open as it seems. People tend to stick with their dormmates, or if they’re lucky with friends from high school.
Breaking into established groups tends to be hard. You might find yourself surrounded by people, yet still feel like an outsider. It’s one of those ironies where you’re in a place packed with students, yet the loneliness hits harder than ever.
And it’s not just a McMaster thing. University life in general has this invisible pressure to find your people right away.
There’s this underlying expectation that your college friends are supposed to be the ones who stick with you for life and if you haven’t found them yet, you’re somehow behind. But the truth is, friendships take time.
Not everyone clicks right away, and that’s completely normal. Yet, when you’re in that space of trying to find your place, it’s easy to feel like you’re the only one going through it. It seems like everyone around you has figured it out. They’ve got their group and their rhythm while you’re still struggling to break into the flow.
In reality, a lot of students feel the same way — they just don’t talk about it.
It’s like there’s a stigma around admitting that you’re lonely or having a tough time connecting. But if we could all be a little more open about the fact that university and residence life might not be what you expected, it would probably help a lot of people feel less isolated. The truth is no one really talks about the moments when you sit in your room wondering why the social scene isn’t coming together like you imagined.
It’s like there’s a stigma around admitting that you’re lonely or having a tough time connecting. But if we could all be a little more open about the fact that university and residence life might not be what you expected, it would probably help a lot of people feel less isolated.
So, what’s the fix?
I think universities in general can do more to help students connect in meaningful ways, not just through big events or loud parties. While those things are fun for some, they don’t always work for everyone.
What about smaller, low-pressure gatherings where you can get to know people? Events that go beyond your dorm floor or existing friend groups. Activities like casual game nights, crafting, or even coffee meet-ups — things where you would show up, be yourself, and talk to people without feeling forced or awkward.
At the same time, we as students can do more too. It’s easy to stick with what’s comfortable, to hang out with the same group every day, but it doesn’t hurt to be a little more open to new people. If you see someone who looks like they would want a friend, why not reach out? A simple “hey, want to join us?” can make a bigger difference than you think. Small gestures like that help break the barrier for someone who’s feeling on the outside.
At the same time, we as students can do more too. It’s easy to stick with what’s comfortable, to hang out with the same group every day, but it doesn’t hurt to be a little more open to new people.
The loneliness in residence is real, but it doesn’t have to be a permanent part of the experience. If we all would make just a little more effort to be inclusive, to step outside of our own comfort zones, residence life would be a lot more welcoming for everyone.
We might not fix everything overnight, but even small changes in how we approach friendships and socializing could start to make things better. At the end of the day, we’re all just trying to find our place. It’s a lot easier when we’re helping each other out along the way.
By: Steffi Arkilander
Content Warning: Contains mentions of sexual assault
McMaster University has a strong reputation among Ontario universities for offering a variety of diverse student-oriented resources and supports. However, McMaster has consistently failed in making support for sexual violence survivors accessible and effective.
On Aug. 19, I was sexually assaulted by someone I trusted, just a few weeks before I started my second year at McMaster. I decided to give university resources a chance and reached out to the sexual violence response coordinator, Meaghan Ross, in October.
I needed academic accommodations to support the extensive and difficult emotional turmoil I was experiencing. My grades were falling and I was not ready to write any tests. To receive academic accommodations, I had to use Ross in my letter for Student Accessibility Services, which meant disclosing my sexual assault to numerous administrative individuals.
Unfortunately, getting registered with SAS is a long process and often my deferred midterms fell on days where I had other assessments or midterms. As a result, instead of my work being manageably spread out, my work and emotional distress were compounded together.
In December, I decided to report my assault to the university. Not only was it unfair to me to have to constantly interact with my perpetrator, but it was also unfair to other students that had to interact with him. But when I contacted the McMaster Students Union and the Residence Life Office, I learned that undergoing the reporting processes is an extensive and exhausting endeavour.
The process forces you to disclose your story to multiple organizations, to staff and non-survivors and brings your sexual assault to the public forefront. Even if my perpetrator is removed from positions without contact from me, he will know I caused his removal and that I decided to take action. Moreover, people will be able to piece my story together. While I am personally okay with this, many others are not.
Thus, to receive accommodations,such as an apology or to remove him from a position, I took the informal route that is offered through the McMaster University sexual violence protocol. To my disappointment, this route requires survivors to detail the incident. This creates an incredibly re-traumatizing experience and gives your perpetrator access to your disclosure, allowing them to reject the requested accommodations.
This process has clearly become incredibly legal, despite pursuing the university route in order to avoid legal involvement. As this process is painfully slow, my perpetrator continues to hold positions of power and interact with the student body without consequence. My perpetrator is free to roam campus while I am forced to anxiously avoid him.
My story is not uncommon. In fact, in comparison to other survivors, the university has responded well. Students generally don’t report their sexual assaults because of the university’s response; the survivor often feels interrogated and is led to hope for an unsatisfactory compromise with their perpetrator.
Survivors need to be prioritized. MacLean’s nationwide survey found that 29 per cent of McMaster students were not educated on how to report a sexual assault and 24 per cent of students weren’t educated on McMaster’s services that support survivors. This needs to change.
The system should be more navigable and transparent, so that survivors are more likely to reach out for help. Reporting assaults needs to be standardized university-wide so that survivors do not need to recount their experience to multiple organizations.
Training does not teach perpetrators not to assault people. My perpetrator has attended over five trainings on anti-oppressive practices and sexual violence throughout university.
Instead, training needs to emphasize on supporting survivors, and tangible means by which we can all work to dismantle the barriers impeding support mechanisms. The fact that only three in 1000 assaults results in conviction only becomes horrifyingly real when you have to support a survivor or become one yourself.
Survivors have nothing to gain from reporting, only lots to lose. So please believe us.
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