Harvard Is Caving to Wellness Culture

Whenever I have more sugar than normal or don’t make my daily 10,000 steps, I try not to feel guilty, but it sure feels like the internet — and Harvard — want me to.

Wellness culture has become a salient topic for younger generations. In the U.S., Generation Z and millennials contribute 41 percent of annual wellness spending, though they are only 36 percent of the adult population. From tracking our step counts and sleep cycles to consuming precise amounts of protein based on our body weight, the current social climate valorizes habits that aim to mold us into the healthiest versions of ourselves.

Many healthier habits are seen as healthy for a reason: They are supposed to serve us well. But at what point does this heightened scrutiny towards health become unhealthy? The motivation to curate an immaculate diet and optimize a wellness routine can quickly turn from mindfulness to obsession.

College students are particularly susceptible to this mindset. Fraternities and sororities at some state universities have begun to adopt the “wellness darty” in place of the traditional darty, trading beer for an energy drink and keg stands for high intensity interval training. Trends like looksmaxxing, or maximizing one’s attractiveness, have gained massive followings that feed into curating perfect wellness routines through habits like skincare or diet.

Wellness is also progressively becoming a pertinent factor for students entering college. More students are seeking campuses with a culture that prioritizes for student wellbeing, and campuses are taking note. Universities are launching more wellness initiatives on their campuses. And while more resources for student wellbeing is a good thing, it does not mean it cannot add fuel into the growing fire of health obsession.

We are increasingly adhering to rigid rules and near-impossible standards, making wellness look less like self-care and more like a burden. It is time we give our health some grace.

Over the past year, Harvard University Dining Services has dispersed multiple health-conscious additions to their dining halls that align with the current wellness culture rhetoric. Several dining halls have posted signs above drink stations informing students how many calories and teaspoons of sugar are in each beverage. A new “gut health” station with picked vegetables and yogurt options has been incorporated during dinner. And to tack on a whole three or so extra grams of protein, dining halls replaced standard pasta with a “protein plus” version.

Of course, I do not consider these additions themselves to be malicious: Being health conscious is not a problem when done in moderation. But these consecutive implementations perpetuate expectations from wellness trends that we need to optimize every health habit — and in particular, diet.

The new protein pasta, for example, contributes to the drive of investing in protein intake. Acting as a buzz word, the label “protein” has become ubiquitous in grocery stores, appearing on anything from desserts to coffee, to even, disturbingly, water. Harvard’s swap from pasta with seven to 10 grams of protein adds more fanfare to the protein craze than it does to your actual protein intake.

Maybe the tweaks in our dining hall do drive students to actively choose healthier alternatives. Labeling of sugary beverages, like the ones plastered in dining halls, can lead people to opt for the less sugary option.

But when put in the context of our current culture’s approach to wellness, those tweaks are a bit concerning. Harvard’s recent swaps inadvertently exacerbate the attention we pay to health. Emphasizing how much sugar is in a drink may raise awareness, but it also divides drinks into moral choices. Labeling drinks reinforces diet culture beliefs that certain foods are “good” or “bad,” making us feel shame or guilt whenever we opt for the latter.

Moreover, these seemingly healthier options don’t fully make up for the nutrition of the food HUDS serves. Nutrition labels for many meals contain an exhaustive list of ingredients, some of which are preservatives. To truly make our dining halls healthier, Harvard would need to do more than follow recent food trends.

Pursuit of an all-clean diet with little-to-no flexibility should not be what we consider the bar for being healthy.

I am not advocating for a less healthy Harvard: It is important to make conscious choices to support our long-term wellbeing. But we need to put less emphasis on rigidly adhering to every health habit if we want to maximize our health.

Not hitting your 10,000 steps or your macros for the day should not make or break you.

Olivia R. Nelson ’29, a Crimson Editorial editor, lives in Leverett House.