There are two constants on Cornell’s campus: Stress during prelims season and seeing S.C. Johnson College of Business students in full suits on a regular Monday morning. While I have reconciled with the former, I will never find it normal to see dozens of 18-year-olds in business professional attire in an 8 a.m. lecture. As a self-proclaimed alternative-dressing person raised in New York City, I became accustomed to seeing uniquely dyed hair and outrageous fashion statements wherever I went. However, coming to Cornell’s campus, this uniqueness was replaced with identical button-ups in every lecture. There is no problem with these pieces in and of itself; my issue is that at Cornell, this style feels inauthentic to those who wear it, as if everybody is conforming to the business fashion trends out of necessity.
It’s no secret that Cornell is a difficult school. The challenging classes and near-constant exam stress makes the stereotype of Cornell as “the hardest Ivy to graduate from” unfortunately very true. Furthermore, when factoring in the endless internship and job-search process, a culture of persistent anxiety reigns supreme on campus. It’s this environment that has fostered a less expressive student body. We have been conditioned by our peers, advisors and atmosphere to view college as a stepping stone to a stable career, and not a crucial time of self-exploration. Some of my freshman peers have expressed that they are growing out their hair because “nobody in finance has bangs.” Others have felt twinges of embarrassment in wearing sweatpants to lectures, feeling social pressure from others in full business attire. The concept that young adults — still teenagers even — are already considering how their physical appearances could influence their job market prospects is utterly depressing. What happened to being young?
This problem exceeds everyday fashion and hair statements, as piercings and tattoos are a rare sight on campus. As a pierced individual myself — 11 and counting — I often hear the various laments of others wishing to get similar ones, with their resistance often being that piercings will influence how others will view them, and not the genuine fear of having a sharp needle stabbing their face. Sebastian Ramirez ’29, who, in a spontaneous decision, recently got his eyebrow pierced, shared his initial concerns for getting it done: “Everyone’s gonna look at you differently,” referring to both on campus, at home and to potential employers. While he personally doesn't “view it as unprofessional or anything like that,” he still recognized that this metal bar would influence his life.
While having piercings is indeed likely to influence one's hirability, that’s not the issue here; it’s that Cornell has created a toxic environment where students are already considering factors that can influence their success in the job market and perception on campus. The implications of Cornell’s self-expression problem run deeper than we imagine.
Self-expression is crucial towards human development, but the culture here stifles this creativity, causing students to form only part of their total identity. Furthermore, these self-affirming activities have been proven to have significant psychological benefits, such as improving academic performance, growing self-worth and even increasing one’s life motivations. Without the freedom of expression, our cognitive, emotional and physical wellbeing are at stake. If you’re always striving for professionalism in Cornell’s competitive environment, you’ll miss becoming who you’re meant to be.
My encouragement of self-expression could not be stressed further. Go dye your hair, get a tattoo; do whatever makes you feel like yourself, because while we are at a prestigious institution and will soon have to enter the workforce, we are still young adults — emphasis on young. Do you really want to be in your 50s, looking at photos from this era and risk regretting what you could've done?
Saya Taylor is a freshman in the College of Arts and Sciences. She can be reached at sat262@cornell.edu.
