I’ll never forget the day I got into Harvard. I was standing by my gate in the middle of Newark International Airport with my parents. It was around 7 p.m., and my flight to Orlando was taking off in 50 minutes. As the hum of flight announcements and the sound of rolling suitcases filled the air, I hesitantly refreshed my applicant portal. Time froze for a split second, then, all of a sudden, before I could read any words on my phone, confetti exploded across my screen. A rush of emotions hit me: shock, excitement, and pure joy.
As the initial shock settled into reality, my excitement took over. It was actually happening. I was going to Harvard. In the months leading up to my first semester, I envisioned everything I would do upon my arrival: walking around the Yard, meeting my brilliant classmates, taking the classes I’d always dreamed of, and exploring Cambridge. I could picture it all and couldn’t wait to dive in. But there was one thing I couldn’t quite picture: my social life.
What would weekends look like? Would it feel like the quintessential college experience? How different would my experience be compared to those of my friends at state schools?
When August eventually rolled around, like many other first-years, I came to college exhilarated. I had been counting down the days and was determined to make the most of my Harvard experience. During the first week, I had my first rite of passage: a Harvard dorm party. It was sweaty and packed, but I was happy regardless. I was meeting so many new people, and everyone genuinely wanted to connect with each other. That’s what the first few weeks are really about, I thought. If this is how it’s going to be, I’ll be happy.
However, it wasn’t long before I realized that, when it came to weekend plans, Harvard first-years often resorted to leaving campus. Nothing is happening on campus tonight, I would hear repeatedly. Let’s go to MIT. Let’s go to this party in Boston. We should have a fun group dinner in the North End.
And just like that, it became clear to me—at Harvard, social life often comes with a price tag.
One first-year student, who requested anonymity, summed up this experience: “The going-out scene is heavily reliant on being in the city of Boston,” she said.
“I would say that’s definitely because there’s not much going on at Harvard’s campus,” she continued. “I mean, we have two bars, but that still costs money…There’s not a lot of spaces that we can congregate and go out or party. And, there’s not a lot of events going on.”
It’s a common sentiment among first-years: while there are occasional events on campus, they’re often infrequent or exclusive, leaving many students looking elsewhere for social opportunities. With limited on-campus spaces designed for nightlife, “going out” frequently means leaving Harvard’s gates.
In my first few months of school, I had a similar realization: compared to huge universities in college towns, socializing takes on a different form at Harvard. Since there are no officially recognized on-campus fraternities or social clubs, there isn’t the same structured social scene that my friends at the University of Michigan have. Aside from the occasional parties hosted by Harvard College Events Board or student organizations, there are rarely open parties for everyone to attend. And when some student organizations do throw parties and events, most of the time, one must be a member of the club or know someone in one to attend.
As a result of this social culture, first-year students at Harvard are often left with a choice: stay on campus for a chill night, or go off-campus in search of a more traditional party scene. But the cost of “going out” is significant. I spoke with another first-year student—let’s call her Soda Girl—who broke down the price of one of her recent nights out.
“Last weekend, I had a bit of a splurge,” she confessed. “I went to dinner, which cost me $35. I then went on a bus service that would take me to a venue, which cost me $20, then I had to buy a ticket to get into the venue, which was $30.”
At this point, the night had already cost $85—and the spending wasn’t over.
“Then once I was at the place, I purchased a ‘soda’ which cost me $20.” She continued explaining her commute home: “I had to get back home in an Uber, which did end up costing me $35.” Her total for one night? A whopping $140.
This experience is all too common. Soda Girl went out with six other girls that night, and they likely spent similar amounts. For many students, Uber and Lyft are the only viable transportation options after a night out—as riding the T late at night or in the early morning hours can feel unsafe. While not every night out reaches triple digits, even a more modest evening—grabbing dinner and ubering to and from a party—can still cost $50 or more. Multiply that by a few weekends a month, and socializing becomes a luxury not all students can afford.
That being said, not all socializing at Harvard requires spending money or going off-campus. Many students, particularly those in extracurriculars, navigate the social scene by participating in group-specific events.
“I’m on the soccer team, so usually we’ll have mixers, but if we don’t have a mixer, then I’ll probably just stay in my dorm, and maybe study, maybe get some sleep early,” another first-year student, who requested anonymity, commented. “It’s kind of a good time to recover and catch up on sleep for the week, since the actual weekdays are so packed,” he added.
When asked if not “going out” was fulfilling for him, he affirmed that it was. “I don’t really like going to clubs and stuff.”
“It depends on what I’m doing,” he continued. “But on an average weekend, I’d probably say [I spend] $30 to $40 just on food.”
There are plenty of ways to have fun on campus without spending money; however, while these options exist, they don’t always fill the gap left by the absence of a more structured, inclusive social scene.
Such spending—like Soda Girl’s night out—isn’t feasible for many students at Harvard. For students who can’t regularly afford to Uber into Boston or split expensive dinners, the alternative often means staying behind. It’s not that there aren’t ways to have fun on campus, but if many of your friends are ubering to the MIT frats for the night, repeatedly saying “no” can feel isolating.
The same first-year student who described the lack of on-campus social spaces echoed this perspective. “There were times where I felt like I didn’t want to go out because some of my friends were going to a club, and I didn’t want to buy the ticket for a club, or pay a $40 cover. Like, that wasn’t in my evening activity,” she said.
It’s no secret that Harvard is an expensive school to attend. This year, the cost of attendance before financial aid was $82,866, which covers tuition, books, and on-campus room and board. While Harvard’s financial aid is generous, it doesn’t account for the hidden costs of college life.
Feeling left out doesn’t just ruin a weekend—it has real emotional and psychological consequences. In a time when Americans are more likely than ever to spend time alone, college students are no exception. A survey of around 1,100 U.S. college students found that nearly 64.7% reported feeling lonely. A 2020 report from the Harvard Task Force on Managing Student Mental Health revealed that 62% of first-year students scored in the high range on the UCLA loneliness scale, indicating that feelings of social isolation are not the exception but the norm.
The report also highlighted the correlation between financial hardship and stress among Harvard students: “Students across the board struggled to afford the high cost of living in the Boston area.” This is where the hidden costs of socializing become significant. When participating in nightlife requires spending upwards of $50 per weekend, students without disposable income are forced to make tough choices: stretch their budget and go out, or save money and risk feeling left behind. Repeatedly choosing the latter can create a cycle of exclusion—where those who can’t afford to participate in the “going out” social scene find themselves with fewer opportunities to bond with their peers.
Now, more than halfway through freshman year, I have a better understanding of the social scene here. I’ve had my fair share of nights out—some that felt worth every penny and others that made me wonder if I should have just stayed in. I’ve also had nights where I chose to stay back, perfectly happy to unwind in my dorm or have a more relaxed evening with friends. At Harvard, I’ve learned a fun night is what you make of it, and it doesn’t necessitate going somewhere.
However, it is important to note that for some students, opting out of a pricey night in Boston is a choice they can make. For others, financial constraints make it less of a decision and more of a limitation.
Harvard prides itself on bringing together students from diverse backgrounds and promoting inclusion, but true inclusivity goes beyond official College resources—it means ensuring that everyone can fully participate in all aspects of college life. If Harvard is genuinely committed to inclusion for all students, perhaps it should rethink and reimagine its policy on social structures on campus. If the cost of socializing continues to rise without change, the question remains: How can Harvard foster a campus culture where every student—regardless of financial background—can find meaningful ways to connect and belong?
Pippa Lee ’28 (pippalee@college.harvard.edu) is the Associate Forum Editor of the Independent.