I first tried non-kosher meat during my time at the College. When I arrived at the College, I expected I would need to shift to a mostly pescatarian diet without shellfish due to the limited kosher options in the dining halls. But this past summer, after experiencing health issues, my doctor advised me to follow a high-protein diet — one that simply was not possible to maintain on campus given the lack of accessible kosher meat.
While kosher sandwiches are available at Fresh & Go during the week, they rely on processed deli meat and are not enough to meet my nutritional needs. And, while Shabbat dinners sometimes have meat as the main course option, this weekly meal is again not something I can consistently rely on. Faced with that reality, I ate non-kosher chicken for the first time last semester and have continued to do so in the dining halls. The absence of kosher meat forced me into an impossible choice between my religious commitments and my health. I chose my health.
Technically, I could have prepared my own meals in the Jewish Religious Center. But doing so would have meant removing myself from the College’s communal life. As I have argued before in the Record, the social fabric of the College is woven, in no small part, through shared meals in the dining halls. Eating separately — however practical — would have meant opting out of that community.
Last week, the Louis D. Brandeis Center for Human Rights filed a complaint with the U.S. Department of Housing and Urban Development alleging that the College violated Title VIII of the Fair Housing Act by discriminating against an Orthodox Jewish student. The complaint argues that the College failed to provide the student full and equal access to both housing and dining, specifically adequate kosher food.
This case makes clear that kosher dining is not a peripheral issue but a core component of equal participation in campus life. A meaningful step the College could take to address this failure is the creation of a kosher station within a central dining hall, ensuring that kosher food is consistently available as part of everyday campus dining, much like existing halal or Clean Cuisine options. If the College truly values its Jewish students, it must move beyond ad hoc accommodations and instead provide reliable and nutritious kosher food access.
I have two possible solutions. First is to add a kosher station in the already planned reopening of Greylock Dining Hall. Since renovations already need to occur to the space, this is a perfect opportunity to finally incorporate reliable kosher dining. Another opportunity would be to have kosher meat instead of non-kosher meat at the Clean Cuisine station. Given that Clean Cuisine already does not include dairy, the College would then not have to worry about creating separate dairy and meat kosher station (since according to the laws of kashrut, meat and dairy cannot be cooked on the same equipment) and instead could incorporate kosher food in the structures that already exist.
Kosher dining is not a niche accommodation; it is a visible measure of institutional commitment. When I was applying to colleges, the presence of kosher food signaled to me whether a school was serious about supporting observant Jewish life. It reflected not only whether students like me would be able to practice our religion, but whether we could do so fully and publicly, as part of the broader campus community.
Right now, the College is failing to send a message reflecting its commitment to inclusion. Instead, the lack of kosher options signals that observant Jews need to sit outside the central life of the College if they are to remain committed to their faith. A kosher station in a dining hall would not just provide food — it would show how the College truly commits to fostering a community where people of all backgrounds can feel welcomed. No student should have to choose between their faith and their place at the table.
Ariella Scheer ’26 is a history and religion major from Princeton, N.J.
