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“Are you punching Hasty Pudding?” “Did you get into HCCG?” “I’m on the list for an upperclassmen party this weekend.” In common rooms and courtyards, dining halls and dorm stairwells, I can’t escape these endless boasts of status.

We get it, you think you’re cool.

I arrived on campus just a few short weeks ago, my social battery charged, excitedly anticipating meeting other freshmen with diverse stories and backgrounds. Little did I know we would soon become siloed into separate social strata, with fewer and fewer opportunities to interact with different peers.

I think back to my first days at Harvard when I stood in random groups of people, turning from person to person to introduce myself, almost dizzy from the number of times I rotated my head. I met people from all across the globe, each with a uniquely fascinating life story. Everyone was worth each other’s time.

I lay in bed awake my first few nights here, tossing back and forth, covering my ears as throngs of freshmen congregated right outside my ground floor room in the Yard. My dorm’s not-very soundproof window failed to insulate me from the drumbeat of names, dorms, and potential concentrations of freshmen as they kept introducing themselves to each other.

But this noise quickly dissipated.

It’s true, the weather has become cooler and our workloads have increased, but I can’t escape the suspicion that the quiet outside my dorm is more deeply rooted in our changing social conventions.

We are no longer all just freshmen. There are now ingroups and outgroups, freshmen on their way to the top of the social ladder and those who have yet to set foot on its first rung.

The other day I walked through the Yard, returning to my dorm at night, surrounded by freshmen leaving for a Hasty Pudding punch event, as if it were normal to wear a full suit on a random week night.

In conversation, people ask me what clubs I am joining and if I am punching — looking for an excuse to share their answers to these questions. They try to prove their status or discern my worth in a surprisingly blatant way.

I find myself questioning, will I be disadvantaged simply because I am not constantly networking? Do you really need to ingratiate yourself with peers to get what you want at Harvard?

This preoccupation with status seems to stem from a place of insecurity and immaturity, as students try finding ways to convince themselves that they really do belong here. We constantly forget that each freshman was admitted to Harvard and equally earned their spot.

As a freshman beginning my time at Harvard, I want to continue befriending people who are kind, thoughtful, and genuine instead of those who rise to the top at the expense of others.

I certainly have lots to gain from relationships with my impressive, hard-working, already-networking peers in the Class of 2028. But perhaps the people who are truly the “coolest” are those who are loyal and caring — not those who have successfully convinced other Harvard students to adorn them with titles.

There is nothing wrong with being a member of an exclusive club or group as long as it does not become one’s entire personality and is not used as license to view oneself as superior to others. But too frequently, the constant chatter about punch and comps suggests the opposite.

Disregarding the allure of prestige in hopes of befriending authentic peers far outweighs whatever artificial social status any of us will ever achieve — and it would be deeply uncool to forget that.

Miriam E. Goldberger ’28, a Crimson Editorial comper, lives in Thayer Hall