MoHome Sickness: Shared Spaces

Graphic by Trinity Kendrick ‘21

By Tishya Khanna ’23

Staff Writer

Some of us keep our rooms messy, some tidy and some a mix of the two. Nostalgia creeps in as I recollect wanting to make space in my friend’s messy res hall room to listen to music, study or even just sit and chat. Usually we ended up sitting on the floor. When I didn’t feel like walking back to my room on busy days, a friend’s space was a haven I went to for my habitual afternoon naps. 

I’ve never had a meticulously tidy or an entirely messy room. Well, it could be horribly disheveled at times, but it’s usually a combination of orderly and cluttered. I also barely live in my room. I like to think of the campus as an extended, lavish home — the Dining Commons is the kitchen, the library is the study, the Makerspace is the art room, the rooms in Blanchard Hall are offices and the dorms are living areas and rooms to sleep in. It’s a shared living space. There, your friends are your family — your community is your family. 

I also miss the movement itself. Tired of studying? Walk to the Dining Commons, Grab ’n Go or the Cochary Pub & Kitchen to get a coffee or snack. Nice day out? Walk across the lakes. Can’t understand a concept from class? Take a walk to your professor’s building for office hours. Only five minutes left for class? Grab your bag and sprint. 

Now, in quarantine, I appreciate having that space to move freely between places on our small map even more. I liked the freedom to allocate different spots for different purposes, unlike in quarantine, where space is confined. For many of us, our bedrooms are now for studying, sleeping, working, making art, living and everything in between. 

I liked bumping into friends now and then — the casual domesticity of it, the dailyness, the mundanity. A benefit of shared spaces is that your daily frustrations dissolve more easily when others surround you than when you’re by yourself. We’re all struggling to keep pace with our hectic personal worlds: the module system, a pandemic that seems to have no end in sight, the never-ending work. Our common frustrations are now divided into individual ones. When trying to converse with a friend, we struggle to decide upon a time to meet. We have to make more effort than before the pandemic, when we could just walk up to their room or meet them somewhere on campus.

For some of us, the struggle extends further, to a difficult home life, the death of a loved one, declining mental health and more. College is a safe space that, for some, is more of a home than their own. The lack of a physical support system around manifests in wild, unpleasant ways. It’s easier to be kind to yourself when the people around you are kind to you too. An extended hand, a simple knock on the door or a genuine inquiry make an essential difference.

Our shared spaces offer shared emotions and shared tenderness. Sometimes shared misery is laughter. I’d rather be crying about the ever-growing list of things wrong with the world with a friend who’s just as miserable and willing to ease the pain through humor. Then we’d go to the Dining Commons and have ice cream with hot fudge. 

Now our relationships translate to long phone calls and Zoom study sessions. If anything, it brings to light one of the hallmarks of being a Mount Holyoke student: our community. Even when we are miles apart from each other, the faculty and students alike come together with a diligent, ceaseless effort to preserve some virtual version of the shared space so many of us call home.

MoHome Sickness: A Walk Through the Community Center

Photo by Ali Meizels ‘23

By Tishya Khanna ’23

Features Editor

It’s a fall afternoon. You’re wearing a light sweater, cool breeze blowing through your hair. Your classes have ended and now you have a day to yourself. You’re tired but you have time on your hands, so you lie on the Skinner Green for a while and read your favorite book. But it’s fall, and now it starts to get dark at 4:30 p.m., so you relish the short hour you had outside on the grass and decide to go to the Community Center. Let’s take a walk through Blanch together.

You climb the brick stairs and enter the building from the main entrance — suddenly the cool breeze has disappeared and you’re engulfed with warmth and chatter of a Great Room event.  You peek in from the second floor and head right back on your way. There’s a new exhibition at the Art Gallery — new students showcasing their wonderful art. You recognize the names of the artists mentioned from classes you’ve taken and the meetings you’ve attended and savor the sweet surprise of finding out their talents. 

You want to get some work done, so you decide to go upstairs to the third floor, home to the rooms of various student organizations and departments. There are people all over — some intently working on their assignments, some lying with their heads down on the table, some goofing off in the study rooms, some drawing and writing all kinds of things on the whiteboards.

You bump into familiar faces and sit down for a light chat until everyone has to tend to their million deadlines. You find a comfortable spot and get to work. There’s a certain quietude around — the particular taste of the 4 p.m. to 5 p.m. hour at Blanch when the Dining Commons is closed. At 4:50 p.m., there’s inevitably a long line to get dinner tables. Friends are gathering around, calling each other to come over, saving spots for one another. All the while, you’re on the third floor, immersed in an assignment that just won’t end. 

After a while, you decide to go downstairs to eat and call your friends to ask if they want to have dinner together. You go to the first floor, which is glimmering with lively chatter. There are people sitting around the Scrabble boards. One group is actually playing it! The other board has the tiles arranged in curse words — you can hear the giggles, see the mischievous smiles of the people passing by. The event in the Great Room has ended and a new one is being set up. You notice that the Cochary Pub & Kitchen is playing some good music and your friend is sitting in one of the booths, equally frustrated with assignments. The familiarity dissolves the tension into easy smiles and warm, tight hugs. You spend some time in the cuddle puddle and both decide to finally grab some food together. You gather your things and walk into the Dining Commons. You grab a booth, browse through the hundreds of rotating menu options and then sit for a good meal to end the day over the usual banter. 

Arriving at Mount Holyoke is incomplete without visiting the beloved Community Center. The three floors hold the essence of the community — all kinds of people coming together to do all kinds of things. From random whiteboards where people leave lists of their favorite LGBTQ+ movies to the colorful couches that are good for naps no matter how loud it gets, Blanch is often what keeps all of us together — holding us on tired days, offering junk food and giving us a space to show all our wild colors.