Content warning: mental health, suicide.
A student died recently in La Citadelle. I do not know the circumstances of their death. I will not speculate on what happened. This is not the first death to have occurred in residences this year, though the first was a sudden emergency that could not have been prevented. A death, no matter how it occurred, changes the environment which surrounds it.
A student residence, meant to house students who, perhaps for the first time, are living on their own, is altered — especially for those close to the deceased or even those who were in proximity to the events.
I know what it is like to experience such changes. When I was in high school, someone I knew committed suicide. I was not close with him, but some of my closest friends were. I knew him as an exceptionally kind, funny, intelligent person and most of all an incredible friend. After his passing, the atmosphere shifted. I could feel it in the air; it was in the back of everyone’s mind. The lives of those closest to him were profoundly changed by what had occurred. At the same time, however, the community was strengthened — especially in the face of a callous school administration. People came to rely on each other more than ever for support. The compassion and empathy people had for one another in light of this loss was something so profoundly moving to me, revealing the basic human bonds that keep us moving even in the most trying times of our lives.
But this community solidarity could only exist thanks to a pre-existing community at the school — something first years at McGill do not necessarily have.
It may be their first time away from home. It may be the first time they have to speak entirely in a language they’re not fully comfortable with. It may be the first time they’re exposed to alcohol or drugs, and, while trying to finally fit into their new home, they may push themselves beyond their limits. And who is there to catch them when they fall? Who is there, at three in the morning, to comfort an isolated, grieving first year; to be there for them when no one else will? No one. And this is entirely McGill’s fault.
Last year, McGill announced that they would be doing away with Floor Fellows in their dorms. These were upper year students who would live in residence with first years and support them through this time, be it by organizing community-building events or by providing direct support to students in need at all hours. Effectively, they were like the RAs you would find at any other university in North America. When McGill announced the elimination of Floor Fellows, they also announced that they would be replaced by so-called “Residence Life Facilitators” or RLFs, who would perform similar tasks without actually living in residence.
While this topic produced extremely vibrant debate on campus, it was largely forgotten about going into the new year. It was something that, as an incoming first year, nearly pushed me away from attending McGill. And while the presence or absence of Floor Fellows has not personally impacted my first year, I can still acutely feel their absence and the effect this has had.
While I firmly believe that RLFs, as individuals, are caring and dedicated people who want to help us through our first year, I also believe that, as an institution, they are effectively useless — a band-aid solution, a way for the university to check off their obligation to support first years when, in reality, they are doing as little as they possibly can.
In my experience, RLFs are practically nonexistent. They are rarely brought up, and I do not know a single person who has ever gone to them or knows where to reach out to them for support. The first and one of the only times I saw my RLFs was during Frosh, when they appeared almost without introduction one morning and herded us like kindergarteners into Tomlinson Fieldhouse when it was unbearably hot and humid so that we could play games to “foster community.” Beyond that, there has been little in the way of “fostering community.” Events are sparse and advertised in inconspicuous ways, with certain residences having barely any events, beyond the RLFs occasionally standing in the lobby to hand out random snacks or advertise some event like non-profit volunteers in the metro trying to get you to sign some petition when you have places to be. They stand completely aloof from us, accessible only via office hours, as if a mental health crisis were at the same level as a question about the syllabus.
Besides, when these people are so uninvolved in our daily lives, why would any one of us go to them for help? What reason do we have to trust these people with extremely personal and private information we may struggle to open up to others about? The point of Floor Fellows was that they had a connection simply through their daily presence and interactions with students, alongside the knowledge that they could always be accessed. We are human beings. We need connection; we do not thrive on our own. When a student dies, when students may be grieving the absence of someone so dearly close to them, they need community. They need connection with someone they can trust, to whom they can let all their feelings out to, someone that can be there not as a bureaucrat working a nine-to-five but as another human being. And yet all that was provided for the students of La Citadelle was a Residence Life Manager accessible from the hours of ten to four on a Sunday and a link to an anonymous helpline.
While some may argue the Floor Fellows may have been just as distant, the point is that they were there. We practically have no one. The security guards are friendly and helpful, but the person at the front desk is never consistent, and not every security guard is capable or willing to help people when they need it. It is simply not their job.
McGill is playing an exceptionally dangerous game with the removal of the Floor Fellows. The administration has passed the responsibility for the well-being of students at such a pivotal moment of their lives onto the students themselves, solely to save themselves a few dollars.
I am calling on the university here to reinstate Floor Fellows and to invest in the safety and well-being of first year students. We have been effectively made to walk a tightrope with no support or guidance. Many of us will make it across just fine on our own, but many others will lose their balance and fall. No student should have to fall, and McGill has the ability to prevent this, but they don’t. And we are falling through the cracks.