Always Lonely, Never Alone: Yale’s Loneliness Epidemic
Constantly surrounded, rarely seen -- exploring our loneliness beneath Yale's social veneer.
A quiet, sunlit cafeteria. A man and a woman sit separately. Do they look lonely to you?
They “appear miles apart, each lost in their own thoughts,” said President McInnis in her convocation speech to the Class of 2028. She perceived a “sense of isolation and loneliness,” an early “evocation of [the] modern loneliness” that has only gotten worse. Indeed, ours is a “generation of loneliness.” But don’t fret — according to McInnis, Yalies are uniquely situated to navigate this struggle.
Yale, to her, is a refuge from the “national epidemic of loneliness.” We have residential colleges, dining halls, butteries, and countless other third places, spaces designed for connection and spontaneity. On some level, she’s spot on: we do have community and busyness and serendipitous encounters.
On a deeper level, she’s wrong. A unique strain of loneliness pervades our campus. We see it in the GCal Warrior, whose days are planned to the second: schedules chock-full of meals with strangers, club meetings with proto-consultants, coffee chats with LinkedIn connections. The GCal Warrior never says no — driven by FOMO, allergic to empty time. Their calendars are crammed with colorful blocks, not just to stay busy, but to stay full. What they fear most isn’t missing out, but the silence that follows. And let’s be honest — there’s a little GCal Warrior in all of us.
Make no mistake: the GCal Warrior is far from alone. They’re lonely. Loneliness is often misconstrued as physical solitude, but it’s more than that. It’s a dearth of meaningful connection. We can be surrounded by people, yet feel disconnected. Or we can seclude ourselves in our rooms, yet feel as though we have more friends and companions than we ever thought possible. And this is a distinction we tend to forget.
Sure, part of the solution is to spend our time with a certain deliberateness. This can mean making time for close friends; other times it can mean saying no to lunch with an acquaintance, or even giving up a club. Just the simple acknowledgment that one is overextended can lead to positive change.
But loneliness isn’t just poor planning. Yalies can’t type-A our way out of loneliness, no matter how meticulously we craft our lives. We try (and fail) to fill the void by following our GCals to the letter, by balancing a perfect mix of friendships, by pursuing the bright college dream of a tight-knit, ever-present social circle. But even then, loneliness will play catch-up, lingering just a step behind. Loneliness is a fixture of life.
Sometimes this point is lost because these unrealistic social expectations appear tauntingly within reach amid Yale’s abundant opportunities for social connection. But Yale won’t save us. Certain days, loneliness—and no, we don’t mean being alone—will press in a little more. Loneliness shows up mid-meeting, post-party, mid-laugh. And when it does, you can chase the illusion of perfect connection — or admit that even here, with everything in place, you still might feel lonely.
“Consider how different it would feel if rather than retreating from one another,” said McInnis in her speech, “the two strangers in Hopper’s painting were seated together, engaged in lively conversation.”
Instead, consider how different it would feel if, rather than perceiving loneliness in this image, we saw two people in a busy world enjoying solitude. And even if they do feel a little lonely, that’s only natural.
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Wonderfully concise and precise.