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In a few days, I’ll graduate from Bemidji State University and leave this town. And while my chapter here is closing, the story of BSU — and Bemidji — must continue.

In recent weeks, faculty, staff and students have raised the alarm about cuts at Bemidji State: dozens of layoffs, entire programs eliminated, and the academic heart of our institution reduced to a skeleton crew. Much of the conversation has remained inside campus walls. But this is not just a campus issue. This is a Bemidji issue.

Bemidji State University is one of the most impactful institutions in northern Minnesota. The university contributes over $310 million annually to the regional economy, according to Minnesota State system data. Thousands of jobs — direct and indirect — exist because students are here, because faculty and staff live here, and because graduates stay here.

This is not a symbolic relationship. It’s deeply material. When students leave for summer, coffee shops, restaurants and local businesses feel it. When graduates stay in town, they become your nurses, your teachers, your small business owners. When BSU thrives, so does Bemidji.

But a university cannot thrive if it is constantly being pared down. We cannot recruit new students while dismantling the very programs that attract them. We cannot retain them if we don’t have the staff to support them. We cannot ask them to stay in Bemidji after graduation if what they experienced here was institutional neglect.

We’ve heard for years that these cuts are necessary. But what’s missing is the long-term plan — what comes after the cuts? If BSU is to remain viable, there must be a strategy grounded not in austerity, but in vision: a plan to invest in what makes this university distinctive, to grow enrollment through regional relevance, and to engage this community as a partner, not just as a donor base.

The university is not just losing faculty — it is losing identity. And when a university loses its identity, it becomes just another building, not a community hub. Right now, BSU is disappearing in pieces. It won’t go with a bang. It will go with silence.

That silence is where the community comes in.

Bemidji, you’ve been told these cuts won’t affect you. But what happens when there are fewer graduates to work in local hospitals and schools? What happens when the next generation of teachers can’t afford to study here? What happens when the arts, humanities and biology programs that give this region its distinct voice disappear?

If BSU becomes a shell of itself, it won’t just be a loss for students. It will be a loss for this city.

I’ve served as student body president this past year, and I’ve seen firsthand the impact of these decisions, not just in data, but in people. Students who transfer because their majors are gone. Staff members who pack up offices quietly after decades of service. Professors who stretch themselves thin to hold things together.

I came to BSU in 2022 with no connections, no community and no footing. I built something here, not just for myself, but alongside hundreds of students doing the same. We’ve been told to care about this place. And we do. But caring shouldn’t stop at the campus gates.

To the people of Bemidji: This university needs you. It needs your voice. It needs your curiosity. It needs your advocacy.

Attend public forums. Ask your elected officials what they’re doing to support higher education. Ask university leadership where the money is going — and why instruction continues to shrink. Read the budget. Ask for a real strategy.

Because this isn’t just about BSU surviving, it’s about whether Bemidji remains a vibrant, educated, growing city, or whether we become another small town watching opportunity move somewhere else.

My time here is ending. But yours isn’t. What you do next could shape not just BSU’s future, but Bemidji’s.

Darby Bersie serves as Student Senate President of Bemidji State University.