Better Than The Good Old Days

The first time I felt the sting of discrimination at Princeton, it surprised me. As a woman, I felt welcomed. Freshman year I shared a suite with seven other girls in Dodge-Osborne. We lived beneath “The Zoo,” the home of 12 guys, which could have been awful but wasn’t. The guys were inclusive and supportive and kind, and when they weren’t, we told them so.

I sang with the Tigressions, and my roommates and the Zoo guys would come listen to the arch sings. One weekend, my parents came to visit from Texas. It was packed, but my roommates helped them find a place near me, squeezed in next to several older alums in their orange jackets. Surrounded by friends on a perfect fall day, I couldn’t have been happier to be a Princetonian. But during a break between songs, I overheard one of the alums talking to my dad.

“It’s not like it was in the good old days, is it? Princeton is a place for men. Not all these women.”

The disdain in his voice was palpable.

My dad, who is not a Princeton alum, smiled broadly and put his arm around me and gestured to my friends.

“To me, it seems these women make these the good old days.”

When we sang the alma mater, my friends and I sang the new words just a little louder than usual, as all of our hearts, not just her sons’, gave three cheers for Old Nassau.

Selected to be featured in the “Reflections Of 50 Years Of Undergraduate Women At Princeton.”

Feature in the “Reflections Of 50 Years Of Undergraduate Women At Princeton” exhibition at Princeton University.

Feature in the “Reflections Of 50 Years Of Undergraduate Women At Princeton” exhibition at Princeton University.