Yaya Corley

Contributing Writer

Our college’s counseling center is a mess, and everyone knows it. We’re told nonstop to “take care of our mental health,” to “reach out when we need support.” But when we actually try, we hit a wall. Endless waitlists. Counselors leaving left and right. Miscommunication at every step. 

It is not a system built to support students; it is a system that burns us out even more. I’m pissed off, because this isn’t just about inconvenience. It’s about survival. Students shouldn’t have to beg for basic mental health care at a place that claims to prioritize wellness. 

Right now, if you finally work up the courage to seek help, odds are you’ll get brushed off, delayed or shoved into some generic resource that doesn’t come close to what you actually need. And don’t even get me started on TimelyCare. That’s not wellness. The Telehealth services mentioned during tours and on resource sheets are just the College selling “wellness” it has no intention of delivering. 

In all my years of being here, I’ve never felt like I fully fit on this campus. As a student of color, there really aren’t any true safe spaces here, at least none the College actually supports. There’s no room to have our voices heard without being sidelined or ignored. And when the one place that is supposed to help us cope with that reality – the Wellness Center –falls apart, it sends a pretty loud message: you don’t belong here, and your well-being isn’t worth the effort. 

This message isn’t surprising. It is loud and clear every time students are told to wait weeks for an appointment. The inconsistency of staff leaves us starting over with someone new almost every academic year. Every time we’re pushed into one-size-fits-all solutions, like Let’s Talk, that erase the very real differences in what students need. It is another reminder that this institution doesn’t see us. For students of color, queer students or for anyone already made to feel like we don’t fit in the margins, this isn’t just frustrating. It’s honestly embarrassing. 

And let’s be honest: the administration knows. They know the center is underfunded, understaffed and overrun. They’ve heard it time and again from students, staff, faculty and community members. They know students are slipping through the cracks. Instead of fixing it, they keep rolling out the same clichés: “wellness,” “support” and “belonging.” 

I’m tired of the empty slogans. You don’t build belonging with PR. You build it with resources, with investment, with actual care. Right now, what we have isn’t care. It is neglect. And that neglect is pushing students out, isolating us and telling us in no uncertain terms that our voices, our needs and our survival don’t matter. 

The takeaway? Stop pretending this is okay. Stop telling us to tough it out. If this school really values wellness and belonging, then prove it. Fund the counseling center. Hire enough staff. Create spaces where students of color — and students in general — can breathe without apology. Because until that happens, all the talk about community and inclusion is gaslighting, plain and simple.