Emory University has a total enrollment of 8,332 undergraduate students. These individuals represent over 60 nations, stretching across the globe and back again. With over 480 student clubs, art organizations and sports teams, Emory invites students of all interests to seek connection and companionship. However, navigating the dynamics of such a diverse community in times of political frustration and polarization can present challenges.
Tensions on campus regarding Israel’s ongoing occupation of Palestine escalated throughout the 2023-24 academic year. This friction culminated on April 25, when law enforcement arrested 20 members of the Emory community during an “encampment for Gaza” on the Quadrangle. The protest’s effects linger today, reflected in politically charged sidewalk chalkings and ongoing debates about the limits of open expression on campus.
But even in the face of tension at Emory, students are reconnecting and rebuilding bridges across ideological divides. They are looking past the administration and finding organic communities — in the gym, on the couches in the Emory Student Center, in the secluded Music Den and the apartments of welcoming upperclassmen.
WoodPEC Basketball Pick-up Games
On the fourth floor of the George W. Woodruff Physical Education Center (WoodPEC), energetic Emory students claim the basketball courts under the ambivalent gaze of StairMaster warriors and lululemon-clad powerlifters. Running full-court games, shooting around or challenging others to one-on-one matches, many come to decompress, exercise and socialize. The rules are simple — just wait your turn and be ready to play.
Marc Margolis (25C), a senior from Maryland, has been playing pick-up basketball since he first stepped on campus as a student four years ago. Whether seeking peaceful moments alone or competitive play with friends, Margolis has spent many hours on the court. At his most active, Margolis played four to five times a week.
As a veteran pick-up player, Margolis is familiar with court etiquette and the other frequent players.
“All the strangers are kind of friends,” Margolis said. “We all recognize each other.”
Because of basketball, the familiar faces — whether they are true strangers, circumstantial friends or his roommates — have become members of Margolis’ prized community. Running the court, “free-flowing” on successful shooting days and engaging in this activity for four years played a key role in Margolis’ college career, relieving stress and introducing him to new people.
To Margolis, the pick-up scene is “everything.”
“Even if you don’t make friends, you’ll still find the community here because all people are looking to do is play games,” Margolis said. “If they make friends, great, if they don’t, it’s fine either way.”
Like Margolis, Will Yang (25C) has been playing pick-up at Emory since his freshman year. However, unlike Margolis, Yang is doing more than exercising and hanging out on the court: He is bridging cultural divides. As a student from China, Yang uses basketball to make connections with students he might otherwise miss.
“You get close to the U.S. culture because basketball is a U.S. thing,” Yang said.
Although Yang often comes with Chinese teammates and friends, basketball’s competitive nature facilitates connection with members even on opposing teams. Of his favorite Emory basketball memories, “beating all of the Americans” stands out.
Dustin Miao (26B), a fellow pick-up player, said he met one of his best friends playing basketball “the first day.” He pointed to his friend, who was taking a water break, as a testament to the companionship made possible by this space.
“It’s a good community because you see the same people every time because Emory is a smaller school,” Miao said. “But that means that it’s more fun to play with people sometimes because you have team chemistry with some people. … Some of these guys I’ve played with for two years now.”
Miao agreed with Margolis and Yang that the benefits of playing pick-up extend past the actual mechanics of the sport. In this space, students can just “escape from everything,” according to Miao.
“You go to class for however many hours … and then you go play basketball,” Miao said. “[It’s] kind of just a way to get your mind off everything and enjoy the moment. When I’m playing pick-up basketball, I’m always just living in the moment.”
Music Den
Although not as easily accessed, the Music Den, located on the basement level of the Schwartz Center for Performing Arts, also facilitates connection. The Den, which is open to reservations 24 hours a day but can be accessed without booking, provides Emory students free access to instruments, amps, microphones and more. As the large space supplies access to equipment, it also encourages student musicians to play together. Fitted with a drum set, piano and tan leather couch, the Den fosters creativity and camaraderie among student musicians.
According to Emory Musician’s Network (EMN) President Zoe Stephens (25C), the Music Den originally set up shop in the Media, Literature, and Arts Outreach theme house on Eagle Row in fall 2021, but ultimately landed in the basement of the Schwartz Center after a stint in the Harland Cinema. Following extensive discussions with Emory Arts administrators and a personal tour of the new space for University President Gregory Fenves led by Stephens, the EMN officially secured the space for musicians on campus in spring 2023.
On a rainy Tuesday afternoon, the Music Den was reserved under “Banding it Up.” Behind the padlocked door of Schwartz 106, four members of a currently unnamed band straggled in, one after the next.
Noble Garcia (28C) arrived first, plopping down behind the navy blue drum set. Trey Longnecker (26C) arrived soon after, unloading a white electric guitar and plugging it into the amp.
Longnecker, a junior transfer from Deep Springs College (Calif.), hasn’t spent much time on campus — but he’s spent plenty of time in the Music Den. As a member of two student bands, Longnecker is rarely without musical company.
“It’s very nice to have somewhere where a band can practice, because a band is obviously a perfect example, they’re a good community,” Longnecker said. “It’s just very nice to come here and play with people.”
This ensemble includes Garcia, Longnecker, Kaelyn Barrera (28C) and Andrew Li (25C). The group connected via EMN, meeting each other as musicians first, strangers second. While Garcia, Longnecker and Barrera have been rehearsing together since mid-October, Li is a recent addition to the band. He gave a brief hello to his bandmates while connecting his bass to an amp.
“It’s really cool to have that experience of walking in and introducing yourself with music instead of words,” Li said. “It’s a pretty unique thing to have here.”
According to Li, the Music Den is an “essential” part of campus and one of the only spaces that cultivates community among artists at Emory.
“This is a pretty good space for connecting people,” Li said. “I just wish there [were] more spaces like this on campus, because it’s just one room that everyone tries to book.”
Like the fourth floor of the WoodPEC, the Music Den is a revolving door of strangers, friends and collaborators who come together to lose themselves in an activity they cherish. Playing alternative-rock covers of “Say it Ain’t So” (1994) by Weezer and “All Apologies” (1993) by Nirvana, each member of the Tuesday night ensemble shed their skin, leaving the stress of the day at the door.
“It’s just fun to make music with other people,” Barrera said. “You feel in tune with each other when you’re playing. It’s a cool feeling.”
EMN Vice President Ryan Taffe (27C) feels the same way. For Taffe, the Music Den is a vital site for creativity, collaboration and connection. During his freshman year at Emory, the Den played an “instrumental role” in Taffe social and artistic endeavors.
“I was able to meet people and jam with people in this space and really form community through that, which wouldn’t have been possible without the space,” Taffe said.
Emory Student Center
For students who prefer a different rhythm, the Emory Student Center (ESC) offers another casual community: video gaming. Nestled in the ESC adjacent to Kaldi’s Coffee, a blue semi-circular couch faces three large flat-screen televisions. During the day and night, this area invites students to connect over shared victories, friendly rivalries and the immersive worlds of video games like FIFA and Fortnite. Just as the Music Den brings musicians together, the gaming space creates its own unique community, blending camaraderie with competition.
At 1 p.m. on a Wednesday, the long blue couch supported students erupting with laughter, yelps and anguished exclamations. Playing a heated game of Super Smash Bros., members of the Emory swimming and diving team participated in an alternate form of adrenaline seeking. Zachary Spicer (28C), Caitlin Crysel (28C) and Ryley Yoo (28C) held tight to white controllers while their teammates watched the showdown. The group said they utilize the ESC gaming equipment almost every day.
While aiding in forming bonds among the athletes, the gaming consoles have also helped establish bonds between the upperclassmen swimmers and their younger teammates. Stumbling upon the three first-years, senior swimmer Liyang Sun (25C) reflected on this medium of connection. Although he admitted to mocking his comrades' gaming skills, he acknowledged how gaming helped him form relationships with the freshmen.
“It’s been great,” Sun said. “I know them through this game, more or less.”
Beyond facilitating friendship among the swimming and diving teams, the student center consoles help these athletes connect with the greater Emory community. Located on the first floor of the student center, surrounded by the coffee shop, pool table and copious seating, the site sees a lot of foot traffic. While many passersby avoid the screens at all costs, secluded and protected by noise-canceling headphones, some students aren’t afraid to sit down and ask to join.
“It’s also nice because it’s an open space, so people can just come in and say hi,” Crysel said.
Sitting next to Crysel, Yoo remarked on the people they’ve met while gaming.
“We actually get random homies,” Yoo added.
Olam Chesed
From the WoodPEC’s basketball courts to the music-filled confines of the Schwartz Center and the gaming consoles of the ESC, Emory’s campus offers unique spaces for students to connect, relax and recharge. But when campus spaces falter, and chartered organizations fail to meet the needs of unsatisfied students, where do they find such a community? For some students, the answer is found in shared spiritual practices around the kitchen table.
In the weeks preceding the April 25 protest, Avery Rosen (25C) and other Jewish Emory students struggled with the limited avenues for spiritual practice on campus. Some students said they disagreed with some of the popular political views among the University’s chartered organizations, such as Chabad at Emory and Emory Hillel, pushing them to seek something new.
“We didn’t really feel like we had a good, safe place to be on campus, this faith that we felt like we belonged in and that aligned with our values,” Rosen said. “It was a hard semester for everyone, and it was even harder not having a spiritual space, or even religious space, to pray and mourn and just be in community.”
Growing out of whispers and a group chat, the student group eventually held a Ma’ariv, a nightly prayer service, on May 1 at the Cannon Chapel underpass. Over 40 students and professors attended.
Several Muslim students participated in the service, with two approaching Rosen afterward to point out the shared values between their faiths. At their first Jewish prayer service, the Muslim students discovered that the English translations of the Jewish prayers were similar to their own, she recalled.
“From that moment, we were like, ‘This is a space that we want to keep up and cultivate,’” Rosen said.
Tamir Charytan (26C) echoed Rosen’s sentiments, reflecting on his own grievances with the current spiritual opportunities for Jewish students. Charytan cited “homophobia,” political differences and general accessibility concerns as influential factors in his decision to forsake chartered organizations.
“People are looking for a community where they can be their whole selves without feeling like they have to compromise part of that to engage with a lot of these people,” Charytan said.
Returning for the fall semester, students including Rosen, Charytan and Sophie Reiss (25C) invested more energy in establishing the group, including finalizing the name, Olam Chesed, which means “a world of loving kindness” in Hebrew. By hosting Shabbat dinners at their apartments, ritual sin castings in Lullwater Preserve and interfaith conversations, the group hopes to foster an inclusive community for Jewish students and beyond.
The group can be found on Instagram and joined via GroupMe. According to Rosen, Olam Chesed is not a chartered organization, and the founders’ reluctance to pursue University approval stems from past experiences with Emory-led Jewish groups. The members of Olam Chesed explained that they believed the organizations were not catering to student’s needs — something they hope to accomplish within their own group.
While Charytan acknowledged the benefit of receiving funding from Emory, the group’s current focus is not formal recognition. Instead, they’re dedicated to establishing and maintaining a community. In doing so, the group takes an unconventional route and finds an intimate way to build connections with its members.
“We’re inviting people into our own homes,” Rosen said. “We’re creating community through that.”
Across campus, and even beyond it, Emory students seek ways to create meaningful connections amid ideological divides, academic pressures and cultural differences. Whether through the shared rhythm of a pick-up game, the harmony of a jam session or the warmth of a Shabbat dinner, Emory students are redefining what it means to belong — not by waiting for institutional support, but by building bridges on their own terms. These organic communities are a testament to the diversity of the Emory community and demonstrate how connection often flourishes in unexpected places.
