The Anderson Freeman Resource Center (AFC) — a space dedicated to fostering community for diverse students on campus — has permanently revoked after-hours access to the building after a recent series of thefts and acts of vandalism. What began as the occasional disappearance of kitchen utensils has escalated into the theft of common space pillows, destruction of property and the general misuse of a facility meant to be a sanctuary for students in need of a safe space.
The AFC, which serves as a home away from home for many students, particularly BIPOC, first generation and LGBTQ+ students, has long struggled with issues of respect and maintenance. Rani Basnet ’26, a BIPOC fellow for the AFC, expressed her frustration with the recent incidents.
"It's just really disheartening,” Basnet said. “I’ve seen more disrespect from students who are not marginalized, which is like, our resource center is specifically a support center for marginalized students.”
The AFC salon — a hard-won resource established last year that provides hair care for students with textured hair — has been particularly affected by the thefts. Edge brushes and other hair care supplies have been frequently taken from the space.
“People just kept stealing…people steal the games as well. In the hair salon, we've had a lot of different supplies stolen,” Basnet added.
The recent wave of incidents has led the AFC to take a firm stance against the theft, publicly addressing the issue on social media. A Feb. 8 Instagram post by the AFC called for more accountability, urging students to recognize the gravity of their actions and the broader implications for those who rely on the AFC.
“A practically defunct kitchen due to having most of the cooking and baking items taken; a salon missing items and also irreparably damaged in places after less than five months of student access, and now… theft of common space items? Is this our community? (Cue the side-eye). And during Black History Month…” the post read.
Assistant Director of the AFC Steve Zatarain ’15 stated that the goal of the restricted access is not just to punish, but it is also an opportunity to reset and reassess the way the space is used and valued.
“We've given some opportunities in the past to do that meditation without any changes in service hours... and we did not see a change in our show. So I think that's how we ended up here,” he said.
Damages to the AFC have been accumulating for years, but missing yellow lounge pillows, the destruction of the kitchen and the irreversible damage to salon countertops have marked a sharp uptick in violations recently. The situation reached its peak when a scalding pot burned through the kitchen table, rendering it unusable and prompting the AFC to announce on Feb. 21 that they would revoke after-hours card access.
“No, there will not be exceptions. No, there won't be any special list of students. No, this is not for the semester. The privilege is revoked completely and permanently,” the post reads. Carr Hall, where the AFC has lived since its creation in 2015, will now be locked starting at 4:30 p.m.
The Instagram post cited multiple reasons for the decision, including the numerous thefts, the destruction of plants, damage to the microwave’s heating element and windows being left open in freezing winter temperatures. The message was clear — efforts to maintain an open and accessible space had been met with continuous disrespect, leaving the AFC with no choice but to impose strict limitations.
In the post, the AFC also announced plans to implement a process requiring organizers of student-run events and meetings to submit pictures of the space before and after their use. If event organizers do not comply with this process, their group will be barred from using the space in the future.
Tamari Kuzanashvili ’27, another AFC fellow, reflected on the situation, acknowledging the disappointment but also the necessity of the decision.
“It’s not just the pillows, but it's more of if you don't respect the space, then we'll have to protect it somehow. Closing AFC down for at least a semester is sort of a measure to do that,” she said in an interview with The Campus.
While some have suggested surveillance measures such as ID tracking or security cameras, Kuzanashvili remains skeptical.
"I wouldn't want AFC to become a place where you have to be policed all the time. Whether or not you're being actually policed doesn't matter, because it already takes away so much content from the space by implementing those measures," she said.
Instead, she hopes that this moment will serve as a wake-up call for the Middlebury community to reflect on the role of shared spaces and how to better respect them.
As an alumnus, the AFC’s assistant director Zatarain believes in the value of spaces like the AFC, noting that such a resource was not available when he was a student.
“The AFC is special because it provides a dedicated space for students who often feel like they don’t have one on this campus,” Zatarain said in an interview with The Campus. “That’s why it’s so painful to see it being disrespected."
Many students who rely on the AFC are grappling with the implications of these restrictions in their daily lives, whose frustrations Basnet discussed with The Campus.
"This campus has shown us there are really no safe spaces on campus. And the fact that other students are trying to take away the one space that we do have is just once again very telling of how people treat us," she said.
For those affected, the sense of loss is profound, not just in terms of material damage but in the erosion of trust for students who find comfort in the AFC’s inclusive space. Students have begun discussing potential solutions, ranging from hiring a front desk monitor to implementing stricter sign-in policies. However, AFC staff noted that ID tracking has been met with resistance from Public Safety due to security concerns, leaving the community searching for alternative ways to rebuild respect and accountability.
The AFC’s situation serves as a stark reminder of what is at stake when shared spaces are not respected. The Anderson Freeman Center was built to be a haven for students who often find themselves without one, but its current message is clear.
"We tried… You did not. A sad day," the Feb. 21 Instagram post reads.
