Returning Branson students will remember the address Sabine Fuchs ’25 delivered at commencement last year. Fuchs described the way Branson students often opt for the same clothing, behavior and friendship choices. She told Branson, “there are very few people who break this mold, and it creates this intense monoculture.” She pointed to similar clothing styles and the tendency to prioritize same-sex friendships. 

I’ve been thinking about what she said ever since because I think this “monoculture” runs deeper than it might first appear, shaping how we dress, who we sit with, how we laugh and how comfortable we feel showing who we really are. 

Last fall, I studied in London with a school outside of Branson’s institution. My cohort included students from across the United States and two students from Germany and Moldova. Each person brought a distinct culture, perspective and story, and those differences felt genuinely celebrated amongst the student body. 

Before my first week there, I found myself anxious about what to wear. My only reference point had been Branson classrooms filled with jeans, sweats, leggings, and hoodies. That’s not a bad thing on its own, but I had internalized with it that stepping too far outside that norm might invite scrutiny.

On one of the first mornings in London, I walked downstairs and saw a complete range of fashion choices. Someone wore full glam makeup with a halter top and jeans. Someone else had chosen a vintage leather jacket paired with high tops, a black skirt and tights. One person was in a button-down business shirt with slacks. Another wore a Nike tracksuit. No one batted an eye and no one looked around to assess whether someone’s clothing had crossed an imaginary line. 

In that environment, I rediscovered parts of myself. I paid attention to how I like to dress and what kind of makeup feels right. I noticed what jokes felt natural to me and how I prefer to engage in conversation. I thought about when I want to speak, when I want to listen, when I want to disagree and when I want to stay quiet. 

Coming back, I’ve been more aware of a dynamic I think many of us have both experienced and taken part in: when someone laughs too loudly or tells a joke at the wrong time, glances, smiles or smirks get exchanged. I’ve been on both sides of those looks. I don’t think anyone means harm by it, but those small moments add up, and I think they shape our environment more than we realize. I would even argue that that is why 35 percent of students are hesitant to say they belong based on the Challenge Success survey results.

For example, one day the week I returned, I wore an orange sparkly sweater. It was a little out there for me. What stuck with me were the double takes, some of which I probably imagined. Still, the fact that I worried an orange sweater might be too much for Branson says something about the norms we’ve built together, whether we meant to or not. 

That kind of pressure extends beyond fashion and laughter. Fuchs also observed that part of this “outline” for being cool or popular at Branson involves “an inherent straightness.” When someone expresses an identity or interest that falls outside what feels standard, they can risk subtle or overt isolation and exclusion. That burden exists in a lot of places, but the question is whether Branson accepts it as inevitable. We describe kindness and courage as core values and I think we can actually live them.

Our small size can feel like a disadvantage when it seems like everyone knows you: It can feel like everyone is watching. But at Branson, we have real influence over the tone of the classroom or the Commons by how we respond to each other in small moments. 

I would like to see Branson embrace its size and become an oasis where all students feel welcome and safe. We are moving in that direction, and I am happy to hear the majority of the school feels they belong here, and now we should take the next steps to encourage belonging for all. 

In London, I was reminded that everyone has lived through at least one experience that sets them apart. Social pressure can make those differences shrink or disappear. Branson has the opportunity to do the opposite and if we widen the boundaries of what feels normal, so that kindness and courage show up in how we actually treat each other.