May 30, 2025 | By Nick Pfost
Sydney Shrewsbury (BA '25) spent her first year at Michigan searching. "I was trying to find a community that I liked, and more importantly, that liked me," she says. "I tried different clubs and organizations around campus that weren't the right fit." It wasn't until her junior year that she walked into CommonGround—and stayed.
"I think right now, more than ever, this is something we should all be trying to do."
She's talking about dialogue. About sitting across from someone whose life looks nothing like yours and trying, genuinely, to understand. In a political climate that rewards certainty and punishes nuance, a group of student facilitators at the University of Michigan has decided that conversation itself is worth fighting for.
What CommonGround actually is
CommonGround trains students in the skills of workshop facilitation and leading dialogues on social justice, identity, privilege, power, and other topics. But ask the facilitators themselves, and they'll push back on such a tidy description.
"What CommonGround does is not teaching," says Shane Baum (BA ‘27). "It's helping people grow as individuals, team members, colleagues, and students."
The program is almost entirely student-led, a distinction that matters to Kara Bernas (BA ‘26), who sees it as proof that young people can drive meaningful change without waiting for permission.
Nagash Clarke (PhD ‘25) puts it even more plainly. "We do work to facilitate people expressing their humanity."
Chesta Bisht (MA '26), who is earning a master's in educational studies, pushes further. "What we cultivate here isn't supplementary; it's foundational. The skills we nurture—critical self-reflection, empathy, intercultural communication—they're not electives in our personal or collective development. They're essential."
Walking into the room
Isabella Basso (BA '25) remembers walking into the IGR office for the first time. “I felt calm and welcomed," she says. She describes CommonGround as "a space for healing, (un)learning, and building community."
But calm doesn't mean comfortable.
CommonGround deliberately leans into discomfort. "I'd tell my younger self not to be afraid of it," says Andrew Baum (BA '27), "especially because it is often the starting point for growth." His sibling Shane thinks about it like this: "Growth doesn't come from having the right answers, but from sitting with discomfort and being open to change."
The facilitators say it works because of what surrounds the discomfort.
Elsa Hall (BA ‘25) captures a key pair of ingredients—CommonGround "will challenge me to think differently than I have before, but I will do so in a supportive environment."
Safe and challenging. The facilitators don't see these as contradictions.
What actually changes
The changes people describe are specific.
"I've learned more about my social identity in nine months with CommonGround than I did in years of school before coming to Michigan," Shane says.
For Kara, the shift involved privilege. "I don't think I truly thought about how much privilege I held until becoming involved."
Chesta names something larger. "It's in this space that I've come closer to understanding who I am, what I represent, and what I want to stand for in the world. It has given me the tools and the courage to advocate, disrupt, and reimagine."
And the learning doesn’t stop when someone starts leading workshops. "Even as facilitators, we're always learning," Andrew notes, "and that's part of what makes it so meaningful."
Finding a place
Something else the facilitators keep coming back to is a profound sense of belonging.
Sierra McKoy (BA '25) says she'd want her younger self to know one thing: "that a community where I belong exists." Chesta frames it as active, not accidental—"there is a community that is actively trying to build a better world with you in it."
At a university of more than 50,000 students, that sentence lands differently than it might elsewhere.
Clear-eyed hope
The facilitators are clear-eyed about scale. Nobody here thinks a 90-minute workshop will single-handedly dismantle systems built over centuries, but there’s no doubt this work matters.
“It sets the stage for individual passions for social justice that can result in collective action,” says Neeka Mehran (BA ‘25).
Kara agrees. "One conversation in a workshop could be enough to spark a process of change,” she adds.
They're planting seeds, and some of those seeds take root.
A community is waiting
Nearly every facilitator said the same thing when asked what they'd tell their younger selves: join sooner. Sydney found it her junior year. Others wish they hadn’t waited that long.
This is an invitation, especially to those just arriving at Michigan, maybe still searching for where they fit. A space exists. A community is waiting.
"I don't see it as just a program," Chesta says. "I see it as a practice of becoming."
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