Has anyone ever noticed how much of student life at Penn is defined by acronyms? Even the new first years can attest that abbreviations like SEAS, PPE, or even Crows are something all of us had to learn far before we had our first class. As a first-generation first year, the acronym FGLI — meaning first-generation, low-income — provided me with much-needed familiarity. But as a senior, I’ve come to the steady realization that FGLI is a failure.
To be clear, Penn’s definition of FGLI encompasses students who identify as first-generation and/or limited income. Penn, like other elite institutions, intends for this acronym to be a form of inclusivity, bringing “first-generation” and “low-income” groups together as one. But these terms don’t always belong in the middle of a venn diagram — and FGLI doesn’t always mean the same thing to students.
When I first entered Penn, I was absolutely caught off guard by the amount of resources and activities that were exclusively for FGLI students. There were specific mentors to provide guidance for first years, a pre-first year program to help them acclimate, and even a podcast that discussed the FGLI experience. These resources seemed like a sure-fire way to correct the imbalance that inherently existed between FGLI and non-FGLI students. But that binary didn’t address the imbalance that already exists within FGLI.
As other students have discussed, the FGLI community is wide and varied; it can’t really be contained into one category before it blows up in everyone’s face. What I have witnessed time and time again is a clear difference in initial access to resources between students who identified with one group and students who identified with both. Students who were either first-generation or low-income had some aspect that helped them in their time here. On the other hand, students who were both first-generation and low-income experienced this combination of disadvantages where they lacked both the social knowledge and money to compete with either of their counterparts on the same level.
To provide an example, let’s solely think about the term “first-generation.” This term typically describes a student who is the first in their immediate family to attend a four-year academic institution. But there are footnotes you can add; some definitions include students whose parents did not attend college in the United States, or those who have not completed a four-year program, even if they attended some college. These are vastly different experiences than that of a student whose entire family has never even stepped foot on a college campus. If there’s this much nuance within a single part of the acronym, we can imagine how much nuance exists within the entire term FGLI. And that’s where the crux of the problem lies: the term is meant to guide an understanding of the FGLI experience, but its broadness hinders true understanding.
FGLI aims to simplify what would otherwise be a very long and drawn-out conversation. But maybe that conversation is one we should have. In FGLI’s simplicity, important distinctions are lost. When we combine all of these groups together, we create the false narrative that every FGLI student starts at the same level. Do not get me wrong, this article is not meant to endorse the oppression Olympics. One identity does not necessarily have it any easier than another one — both come with their own set of challenges and roadblocks.
In fact, on a social level, sometimes people prefer the term because of its ambiguity. If a student is solely low-income, it gives them a way to relate to their peers without awkwardness. At such an elite institution where a significant part of the student body belongs to a certain tax bracket, I know first-hand that FGLI functions as plausible deniability. Whether we agree with this usage of the term or not, it certainly serves a purpose to create more fluid interactions between students.
Still, with such a broad term comes limited resources, and people are bound to be left out. Just in the class of 2028, 19% of students — over 600 people — are labeled first-generation. This count doesn’t even include low-income students. But within the Pre-First-Year program, there are 180 seats, meaning Penn has far more FGLI students than spots in the program. But the program itself admits that it provides a “social and academic edge” to whoever participates, changing entire life trajectories. My question is: what criteria determines who deserves this edge more than any other FGLI student?
If FGLI is supposed to support students who have faced barriers to entry, it can’t be so all-encompassing that its resources are stretched out. A broad acronym makes a compelling argument for inclusivity in Penn admissions practices, and certainly makes for an impressive statistic on their website. But when first-generation and low-income students are placed under an umbrella term, the label obscures the very differences in the experience it’s meant to address. In this sense, Penn’s support for FGLI students cannot involve just inclusivity, but inclusivity with intention.
LINDSAY MUNETON is a College senior studying sociology from Bergenfield, NJ. Her email address is lmuneton@sas.upenn.edu.
