“He felt that Boston College was a gated community for white people.”
Those words, casually mentioned by the nurse to explain why her son did not attend Boston College, hit me like a brick wall.
As a nursing student in my population health clinical, I was placed at an elementary school in Lower Roxbury. There, I work with school nurses who have shared stories about the challenges the children face: living with their families in single rooms, learning needle safety due to the prevalence of hypodermic needles from Boston’s “Methadone Mile,” and navigating language barriers as recent immigrants. On top of that, these nurses face challenges in caring for a diverse population of kids in a troubled public school system.
Her stories took me back to my walks home from my high school, which was located near Lower Roxbury in the South End of Boston. I would always pass a distinct intersection—I stood on the side with newly built offices and shiny luxury apartments towering above, while the other side had weathered apartments, barred windows, and a homeless shelter next door. I never crossed the street, and I watched as gentrification transformed the community.
Not only was I stunned by our conversations, but I was hit with a sudden realization: despite my many years in the South End, I’ve become disconnected from the surrounding community and the issues I’ve seen every day. Somehow, I allowed myself to be sheltered in BC’s seemingly gated community, more commonly known as the “BC Bubble”.
This sheltered mentality is evident in BC students’ everyday lives. Many live in isolated suburbs or gated communities. They are unfamiliar with Boston beyond prominent hotspots like Fenway Park and rarely use the MBTA, opting instead to take Ubers to places easily accessible by public transportation. Many are engrossed solely in BC assignments, sports, or club events. While their involvement is valid, many, often white, students, don’t advocate for issues that don’t directly affect them. A student can spend four years here completely unaware of the struggles that exist beyond the campus’ physical walls or metaphorical bubble.
We proudly wear Boston on our sweatshirts and merch, but we don’t truly know the city.
Still, we benefit from Boston’s location, local enrichment, and the internships and career opportunities it offers. Nursing students, in particular, have the privilege of learning and gaining experience at some of the country’s best teaching hospitals. Ultimately, BC students graduate and move on—they can move back home, settle in an affluent area nearby, or stay in Boston. They can rent cushy apartments right at the intersection I’ve always passed, far above the everyday struggles that many Bostonians face below. The BC bubble just relocates—now with a better view—and the cycle continues.
This lack of engagement isn’t just present among students—it extends to the University itself. As a nonprofit institution, BC is exempt from paying taxes. Nonprofits can still contribute financially through an optional program called “Payment in Lieu of Tax” (PILOT). Historically, BC has contributed less than what was expected and is currently refusing to pay. Despite benefiting from its desirable location between Newton and Boston, and relying on local labor like dining staff or maintenance workers, BC shirks its obligations to contribute to neighboring communities.
In return, these communities often face higher rental prices due to the demand from students. While BC offers various volunteer programs to assist nearby communities, a $4.8 million contribution would have a much more significant impact on local schools, infrastructure, and residents. How can BC be so hypocritical, going against the value of “men and women for others?” This criticism isn’t unique to BC—other prestigious institutions like Harvard University share similar ‘town and gown’ dynamics with their surrounding communities.
We spend four years in and around Boston without giving anything in return.
This column isn’t meant to call out BC or its students but to challenge us all—myself included—to do better. It’s easy to be engulfed by the BC bubble, but as I explored more of the city—whether hopping in between clubs, grabbing late-night drinks with friends, and late-night twirls with friends on the Green Line —I realized how much Boston has given me, how little I’ve given back to this city I love. It helped me break out of the bubble, and now I’m more passionate than ever about community health and serving the neighborhoods that once supported me as a nurse.”
To genuinely engage with social reform, students must start by acknowledging, interacting with, and committing to the communities outside of BC. I urge students to volunteer, get involved in local politics, and explore Boston beyond its tourist attractions. We must build deeper connections with the city and its members that bear our college name. The University must uphold its Jesuit values and fulfill its PILOT contributions.
As BC students we must step outside the bubble and ask ourselves: How can we honor a city we so proudly claim? How do we benefit from Boston, and how can Boston benefit from us?
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