Hating Harvard is not discouraged, not questioned, but embraced. Standing in a dining hall inevitably means overhearing something along the lines of “Why does the College do this?” “Why don’t they put endowment money to good use?” and the like. As former Undergraduate Council President Rohit Chopra ’04 put it in 2003, we “love to hate Harvard.” We run on the fumes of communal commiseration.

And why do we hate? The perennial arguments include legacy status, social exclusivity, general inequality, and excessive competitive pressure. Hating Harvard is a vehicle for changing these “inequalities;” or at least that is what many students would have us believe.

So how have we fared? The results are certainly mixed and certainly up to individual interpretation. Many, for example, would argue that the sanctioning of single-gender organizations was a great social equalizer on campus. Others, however, see this step as highly detrimental for female spaces while others protest the infringement of their so-called right to assemble as they choose. And in the end, final clubs persist while former fraternities and sororities slip through loopholes. The only major change seems to be increased frustration toward the College.

When I applied to Harvard, I was told horror story upon horror story from jaded students. My impression was that perhaps this journey would not be worth it. Perhaps my sanity was more valuable. Perhaps a more accepting space and a more collaborative environment would be preferable. So the day I got my acceptance, it was with a heavy heart that I submitted my confirmation. Looking back, I feel ungrateful. But most of all, I fell right into the trap: the trap of communal hate.

I believe that on the surface, many students are so needlessly critical of their Harvard experience that they are ungrateful. Ungratefulness is something we have all fallen prey to time and time again. There’s no need to emphasize the academic preeminence of the institution, but sometimes we forget how extraordinary this place is. The summer before my freshman year, I was met with the news that more than half of my class would be non-white. More than half — the most diverse class in 380 years of Harvard. As for wealth inequality, more than half of the graduating class of 2017 was earning at least $70,000 in their upcoming jobs. No — not all Harvard students come in with the same — but many leave with substantial earnings in sight.

As a junior, my Harvard experience has had its shares of highs and lows, but has constantly been a journey of growth, and a positive one at that. Have I met snobby students? Have I been denied access to certain spaces on a seemingly arbitrary basis? Have I witnessed inequality of opportunity on the basis of race, sexual orientation, and socio-economic background? And finally, have I been stressed out of my mind? Yes, yes, yes, and yes.

But while these lows persist and will always persist anywhere in an imperfect world, I have also seen a much brighter alternative. I go to school in one of the most diverse institutions on earth. I hear from the greatest minds in and out of the classroom. And I am supported by some of the most intelligent and charismatic friends. How can I hate such a place?

Yes, I have been challenged. And yes, I have experienced College-wide changes that regularly perplex and frustrate me. But for every frustration, I attend various lectures with world-renowned professors. For every mistake the College makes, I see a tenfold effort at rectifying and addressing injustices. Most of all, for every administrative shortcoming, I see students leaping at the chance to fill in the gaps. Watching the intelligent, dynamic friends we have at Harvard excel as leaders, addressing the issues that matter to them, is likely one of the greatest joys the institution grants its students. And yes, it is cliché, but most clichés are true.

Perhaps the hatred we often share is a product of the privilege we have. Many have grown far too used to the singular experiences at Harvard. Where else can we express ourselves this way? Will your investment bank allow you to openly insult its CEO? Presumably not.

On a more practical note, like my dad always says, “You’ll never have it this good again.” The proverbial “real world” is not this diverse in the workplace nor is it as socially conscious. Nor does it have oodles of money to spend on travel and research or a myriad of renown speakers visiting campus. Harvard is flawed, but Harvard is also special.

I extend this challenge to Harvard students: Be critical in a grateful way. By this I mean eliciting change from a place of love — love of learning, love of school, and love of each other.

Carine M. Hajjar ‘21, a Crimson Editorial editor, is a Government concentrator in Eliot House.