Lack of Vassar Relay support disheartening

This past Saturday, Vassar College's second annual Relay for Life raised somewhere around $15,000. And while ProHealth did an excellent job coordinating the second Relay event to have taken place on our campus, I couldn't help but feel disappointed as I walked my last few laps. Being a two-time brain cancer survivor, the second time being only this past winter, I had expected this year's Relay for Life, my first, to be a valuable experience. I expected it to be a moment when our campus would finally recognize the fight of millions of people against cancer as well as remember those who have been lost. But that wasn't what I experienced this past Saturday. Instead, I came to understand just how ignorant and unsympathetic to the reality of cancer the majority of Vassar College is. As I now understand it, cancer just doesn't happen at Vassar, and if it does, we just ignore it the way virtually everyone ignored the Relay for Life.

The poor attendance of this year's Relay was disturbing. Though I understand that being in only its second year Vassar's Relay for Life isn't yet well known, I can't accept that as an excuse. Too many people at Vassar have had experiences with the Relay For Life before, as it is the biggest non-profit fundraising event in the world, for that to be the case. And though Together Opposing Neglect and Child Abuse's (TONCA) "I Won't Grow Up Day" was sadly scheduled for the same day, which no doubt split the crowds for both events, the Relay was just too poorly attended for such excuses to hold water. Further, the event was not attended by some very important and symbolic people on this campus who could have helped raise its profile and should have been a part of it. For instance, not a single administrator was in attendance. With two of the most important administrators living on campus, it is expected that these take some part in the Vassar community and especially events as important as this one. In fact, some of the only faculty and staff who did attend, at least to my knowledge, were the head of Health Service, Dr. Irene Balawadjer, a full complement of Research Librarians participating as a team in support of one of their own, and the Davidson House Fellows, Professor of Psychology Randy Cornelius and Kathy Anderson. I would like to take a moment here to thank Cornelius and Anderson in particular, whom I got to know much better over the course of many shared laps, and whose willingness to participate was truly heartening. But where were all the other faculty who live on campus as House Fellows and are supposed to be a part of our community? Where were all the other faculty who have themselves had cancer or have family members or spouses with cancer? Where were all the students whose families and friends have been touched by cancer? Am I right to think that cancer just isn't a reality at Vassar?

The most striking and resounding symbol of this widespread apathy came in the evening when the Luminaria were put out. For those unaware, after sundown at every Relay for Life, bags with candles in them, called Luminaria, are lit and placed around the track to guide Relayers through the dark of the night and to commemorate those who have won, those who are still fighting, and those who have lost their fight with cancer. At virtually any other Relay for Life, every bag would have been dedicated to someone, for which one needs to only make a $10 donation. But on Saturday, only a quarter of the Luminaria had names on them—the rest were blank. Were those blank Luminaria meant to symbolize all those not touched in any way by cancer at Vassar?

I don't know. I hope they could have represented that reality, but such a reality is virtually impossible. I do know that when the the Luminaria were extinguished well before the Relay was supposed to end at midnight, and only myself and a group of three friends saw the Relay to its full 12 hour conclusion, walking a track that was no longer there, I couldn't help but be disheartened even further. It was a sad conclusion but a fitting one, for throughout the day few had walked for more than a minimal amount and it was clear that the message of the day had not been understood by the community of Vassar College. The Relay for Life is not merely about giving money. It's about making time in our "busy" lives to celebrate those who have been lucky enough to beat cancer, honor those who are still fighting and remember those who have lost their fight. At larger schools, with greater appreciation and support for the Relay for Life, it is not merely a 12-hour event but a 24–hour one. By having one person from each team walking at all times through those 24 hours, we remember that just as cancer never sleeps, we can never sleep in our fight against it.

But of all the disheartening moments I experienced on Saturday, none were worse than giving the survivor's speech at the Luminaria ceremony. I was incredibly nervous beforehand to share my story with so many people, but when I finally saw past the spotlights that had blinded me on the stage I realized that there was hardly anybody there. That patch of almost empty grass with a few bodies scattered about was more nerve-racking for me than than the largest sea of people could ever have been. Because I realized as I finished speaking that it didn't matter what I had said as the Vassar community just doesn't seem to recognize the frightening and rather mundane reality that is cancer, and at this point I don't think anything I say will change that.