Harvard’s Hardened Heart

In the weeks before my first year at Harvard, I got my annual back-to-school haircut. I await this tradition with excitement, for it physically marks the changes ahead: it shears away the dead weight of split ends and existential anxieties for the coming year, and implicitly prepares me for, and embraces, the growth that awaits. Shaking my hair out more easily than before, I smiled up at my reflection in the salon mirror before heading to the door. As I rose, my hairdresser turned me toward her soberly. “Have so much fun your first year of college! But remember to be careful, and watch out for yourself,” she said, hands on my shoulders.

In so few words, this passing acknowledgment addressed the risks that college life poses for young women, a stark reminder that powerful institutions are not impervious to sexual and physical violence. They may even breed a culture that perpetuates it as commonplace. The Harvard University Police Department’s annual security report shows an increase in total incidents of rape and stalking from 2023 to 2025, along with 12 recorded hate crimes this past year alone.

Conversations about sexual violence on college campuses are seemingly inescapable in light of the Cornell Seven Case. However, questions of administrative accountability are not new to the dialogue about punitive actions and survivor protection at Harvard and peer institutions. Harvard’s administration must provide students with tangible resources to cope with and reduce violent acts on campus to ensure everyone can access the quality of life and education it promises.

Entering college, I had no illusions that Harvard’s institutional bubble would shield me from the evils of the broader world. Many of us who were socialized as women hear the same cautionary tales and receive the same sage wisdom: don’t trust anyone at a random party to handle your drink; travel in groups; make sure your friends end the night somewhere safe. I felt these things were relatively within the scope of my control. However, I did not expect my control to be challenged so immediately or consistently as it has been in my first few months here.

A Sept. 1 email, notifying students of a machete-armed man who evaded police in the Mt. Auburn Street area, bolstered by a WhatsApp warning from my proctors, compelled me to seek shelter in Annenberg. An hour later, police detained the suspect, and I never received a follow-up.

Less than a month later, on Sept. 28, both Memorial Hall and Memorial Church were closed off and searched as a result of a bomb threat. Though students were cautioned to shelter in place, I know of many classes that were not canceled and students who were forced to resume their daily schedule despite looming danger.

I count myself among those who initially dismissed the bomb threat’s severity. Aside from a few texts from loved ones checking in on my whereabouts, the situation did not feel like anything other than an inconvenience to the regular course of my day, which only illustrates how distant these threats of violence feel. HUPD’s own email described the evacuation of Memorial Hall and Memorial Church as an “abundance of caution,” potentially an attempt to curb the panic of students and their families. While I agree these messages should not be designed to fearmonger, I think it can be equally dangerous to prematurely quell safety concerns for the sake of ease or appearance.

The lack of institutional recognition of the severity of these events only normalizes and desensitizes students to these violent occurrences. A 2017 Harvard Business School study suggests that repeated exposure to violent crime can desensitize people to it. As these violent acts go unaddressed by university faculty, their shock value is diminished, and so is student response.

The Clery Act requires universities that participate in federal financial aid programs to disclose campus crime rates and make campus safety procedures transparent. It is not enough to merely report these crimes, and I am hard-pressed to believe that the summer education modules incoming Harvard students complete for Title IX and safety training substantially curb the perpetration of violence against vulnerable students.

As details emerge that five of the seven men accused in the alleged gang rape at Cornell, dubbed the “Cornell Seven,” were assigned essays and made to attend workshops as punishment, the efficacy of such harm reduction techniques comes into question. If those found responsible get away with a slap on the wrist, they receive the message that these powerful institutions favor their interests and futures over victims’.

Though workshops and educational modules effectively introduce the concept of misconduct and how to address it for both survivors and potential perpetrators, they do not end Harvard’s institutional responsibility to ensure student safety. Harvard must actively amplify survivors’ voices. In the wake of a violent event on campus, students should be connected with mental health resources and made aware of opportunities to create a personalized safety plan in the event of an emergency. And I believe it goes without saying that class attendance should not be mandated in the aftermath of a bomb threat, or any incident of similar magnitude. We must recognize the gravity of these situations and respond accordingly.

The student rally held outside of Zimmer Hall on Oct. 9 in protest of Harvard’s own Title IX policies is an indication that students are tired of living amidst casual violence. At a university that accepted over $9 million from Jeffrey Epstein and whose former president, along with various faculty members, were closely associated with the convicted sex offender, students should be outraged at its lack of demonstrated accountability and support for survivors. It seems that Harvard’s loyalty lies where its money is concentrated. And harm mitigation is not a booming business. But students should not have to reckon with the aftermath of administrative missteps.

Our safety is not secondary to Harvard’s institutional interests. Harvard is a remarkable college with invaluable opportunities. Still, its promised “culture of inclusive excellence” rings hollow as it sustains procedures that devalue marginalized students as its status quo.

Sadie Gugliotta ’30 (sadie_gugliotta@college.harvard.edu) is comping the “Harvard Independent.”