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Harvard has quietly abandoned the fundamental values we promote to the public. On July 9, entire offices dedicated to supporting women, LGBTQ+ students, and students of color were purged from the College’s website. Their pages now redirect to a stale site featuring a shamefully politically neutral statement of how “we embrace our community values.”

The deletion of these websites is not just an aesthetic change or restructuring of Harvard’s digital footprint; it is a signal that Harvard cares neither for its own stated values nor its student body. What begins with the erasure of web pages may soon continue to include the dissolution of programs, the reassignment or dismissal of trained staff, and the slow dismantling of the already few spaces where marginalized students have ever felt seen, safe, and supported.

The least Harvard can do is communicate. But as Co-President of the Queer Students Association, I have no official update to give my peers — because we were never given one.

This is not a one-time oversight. It is a repeated pattern. In April, Harvard renamed its central Office of Equity, Diversity, Inclusion, and Belonging to the innocuous “Community and Campus Life” amid federal attacks on diversity, equity, and inclusion. Harvard also abruptly withdrew support for identity-based graduation ceremonies for Latinx, Black, LGBTQ+, and veteran students among others in apparent capitulation to governmental pressure. Harvard has a shameful history of quietly removing resources and websites in a seeming attempt to implement policy changes that fly under the radar.

These decisions are habitually made behind closed doors with little student consultation, transparency, and acknowledgment until the damage is already done. Our administration counts on us not noticing. And not caring.

But we do care. And we’re noticing.

When I applied to Harvard, I cited my desire to find and build queer community here. Growing up in Minnesota, I felt uncomfortable being openly queer. Harvard seemed like a refuge — a place that would celebrate, not merely tolerate, my peers and me. That illusion is now shattered: Harvard’s decision to silently capitulate to its detractors is an act of cowardice.

What I, and many others, now need are answers: What does this mean for QSA’s funding and programming? Will we still be recognized and supported as a student organization? Will our Student Advisory Committee Senator meetings, where affinity organization leaders come together, still have a home in the Harvard Foundation for Intercultural and Race Relations, or even happen at all? Will our staff remain? Will our meeting spaces be preserved? Will more of our identity-based resources be dismantled without warning? Will Harvard stand up for its marginalized students, or continue to insulate itself behind empty, meaningless mission statements and rebranded offices?

Right now, I don’t know. Nobody does, because Harvard refuses to answer.

In May, before students left for the summer, I met with the directors of both the BGLTQ Office and the Foundation to express my concerns. I feared that the University would make these moves during the summer, when students are disorganized and away from campus. At the time, I probably came across as an overzealous fearmonger. Now, I’ve been proven right.

I have nothing but pride and gratitude for the staff and offices who are doing their best to serve students in these turbulent times. But for the administration, I have only disappointment. This is not the Harvard I was promised, nor the Harvard I knew. The University that future generations of students will inherit is less than it once was. Less transparent, less caring, and less true to its stated values.

Harvard thrives on a precedent of convenient non-communication. But make no mistake, this was a choice. A choice to strip away our infrastructure in the shadows, replace identity-based support with ambiguous language, comply without admitting they're doing it, and commence the destruction of our communities.

In an ideal world, Harvard would take steps to undo its recent changes. It would restore the public websites and staff directories for each office; publicly affirm the existence of the Queer Students Association, the Harvard College Women’s Center, the Office of BGLTQ Student Life, and the Harvard Foundation, and support each with dedicated staff, funding, and space; and invite affected student leaders to participate in future restructuring conversations before further decisions are made behind closed doors.

But I admit that saying these things is futile; they likely won’t happen, because our administration has shown it does not care about our voices. We raised concerns. We asked questions. We warned them this would happen. We weren’t listened to then. Why would we be now?

The bare minimum is honesty: the futures of marginalized students depend on it. This is not just about web pages — it’s a question of whether the University stands for us or merely our image. Unfortunately, we are receiving our answer.

Eli M. Visio ’26 is a double concentrator in Neuroscience and Anthropology in Mather House and is Co-President of the Harvard Queer Students Association.