UCSC lost my trust when it forced me out of Camper Park – I wish my university cared more about me

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Living at UC Santa Cruz’s Camper Park was a dream come true. 

I found my sense of self there, a place I belonged. Living in the park with 40 other students defined my undergraduate years at UCSC, taught me about true connection to others and the environment. I am heartbroken, enraged and deeply disappointed the university shut it down on July 10.

I’m not only angry at what the university did. I’m furious at how administrators did it – without continued input from residents or alumni, without the promised collaboration from the community. Instead of being involved as an integral part of the review, those of us living there were bypassed. We were only heard as “testimonial references” during two meetings. 

The trailer park started as a low-cost housing option that had roots in the car camping community of the 1980s. Students desperately need housing at UCSC and for 40 years, the uniquely beautiful camper park provided it.

For me, living in the park last year was my first time on my own. I came from a big family and spent my first year at UCSC living in a quad dorm. I loved the quiet of the park, the space to express myself, and the genuine people the park attracted. 

A couple of days after move-in, I was grieving the death of my adviser – a wonderful man who taught me to think critically about the world and pushed me to explore nature. I was in bed all morning scrolling through videos and allowed myself to feel his loss, crying as long and as loud as I needed.

When I went outside, I greeted my neighbor with a “Good morning,” and he said, “Girl, it’s 3 p.m.!” He knocked on my door later that night, said he could tell I had had a hard morning and asked if I wanted to share space and a meal. From there on, his kindness extended into nightly conversation sessions and surprise deliveries of cut-up fruit and bouquets of flowers. 

I will always think of the year I spent there as the most floral season of my life. 

My neighbors, admirers and best friends kept my vases full and my camper smelling of spring all year round. The park was full of compassion, and although I was on my own, I was never truly alone. 

I had the space to grieve, decorate, dance and sing as loud as I wanted to, but when I needed it, support was just a couple of steps away. 

Feeling secure in my living situation was vital to my success in college. I wish UCSC would recognize the importance of that sense of home and provide more – not fewer options. 

Additionally, the camper park was affordable, unlike the dorms. It cost me about $6,500 a year compared to single units in the dorms that would cost $21,429 (including a meal plan). Rentals off campus are impossible to find and usually unaffordable. 

I thought the university had an interest in providing safe housing for students who can’t afford to live anywhere else in Santa Cruz. 

Yet, in late February, in the middle of midterms, a team of administrators (including Dave Keller, Jim Grove and Ryan Macleod) suddenly called a meeting to say they were evicting us. They gave us three weeks to move out and cited fire and health issues we had not heard of. (No environmental health and safety or fire marshal checks had taken place.) 

We offered everything we could think of – including turning off our propane tanks to limit fire and mold hazards – and they applauded our creative solutions, seemingly opening a path for continued student representation.

But it didn’t help.

In the weeks before the closure, our community continued to grow. Our fear of eviction brought us closer together. It also united us with other students protesting on campus, including our comrades in the Palestine solidarity encampment and those protesting labor practices. Fueled by our similar struggles and passion for the space, we spent late nights in the community room gathering anecdotes and strategizing. 

This kind of community problem-solving and creative reimagining is what universities should aspire to. How disappointing that it had to be done against the wishes of those running it. 

The walls of our communal spaces held generations of stories. When it was quiet, I felt I could hear them. I feel a responsibility to them – to fight for those whose urgent need for affordable housing and innovative ideas of communal trailer living brought the park to life. My neighbors and I did our best to honor tradition through potlucks, concerts in the forest, garden work days and the legendary annual pirate party. 

I learned the park would close on July 10 in an email from Laura Arroyo, associate vice chancellor for Colleges, Housing, and Educational Services. No meeting, just an automated email. I woke up to videos of our homes being towed away to a scrap yard. 

Again, not what I would expect from a university that respects me or cares about students’ trust. 

I miss my trailer, my first taste of independence, my camper full of laughter and silliness. I miss lying in my bed and hearing live music from the community room. I miss the fern that grew between the stairs on my deck. I even miss reminding my neighbors to put down the damn toilet seat. I miss my glow-in-the-dark star-covered ceiling. I miss my home. 

I am disappointed by the university’s cold-heartedness and lack of imagination. I feel overlooked and unrecognized. The university has shown me it cares more about my wallet than my well-being. 

I spent weeks frantically seeking housing and finally got a spot in a house off campus. I now pay almost double what I did at the park. This will be my first time living off campus while working two on-campus jobs; it will be hard.

UCSC was my dream school, but now I am questioning my choice. The school feels money-hungry, unconcerned with students’ mental health. The park’s closure has pushed some of my friends to look into transferring, dropping out, or living in their cars to be able to continue their education. 

I still don’t know why the university closed the park. I don’t think it was for health and safety reasons. I think the affordability made it not profitable enough to keep, which is heartbreaking. I am angry that the university has yet to disclose the results from the safety checks that resulted in the closure. 

It fits a sad pattern of not offering students information. We also don’t know the results of a campus investigation into bus driver Dan Stevenson’s death or what the university’s investment portfolio contains. 

I plan to keep fighting, though. I will continue advocating for student involvement in the reimagining of this space. Through meaningful collaboration, students and former parkies like me hope to be at the center of the planning and development on the land where our camper park was. 

 I will fight until I find my way back home. 

Natalie Twilegar (she/her) is a first-generation college student from San Diego, majoring in environmental studies. She hopes to make outdoor experiences accessible to all bodies, and to address the climate crisis through radical, intentional and sustainable organizing. If you are interested in UCSC housing issues, she encourages you to follow @ucschope4housing on Instagram and send an email here. Long live the Camper Park spirit!