Computer science is hard. That’s what everyone says, and they’re right. It’s not just because you’re learning an entirely new language with its own rules, syntax, and semantics, and it’s not because programming doesn’t click right away for everyone. It’s not even because it can be a struggle to find teachers to help you learn it. The real reason that computer science is so hard isn’t even related to the study itself; it’s because if you aren’t a White or Asian man, you’re in a field where the odds are stacked against you from the very beginning.

I walked into my first computer science classroom my junior year of high school and was one of three women in a class of thirty people. Then I went to my first computer class at Wellesley with no cisgender men in sight. At last, no working with just select, trusted male friends, carefully vetted before the class; at last, no men trying to explain something that I already knew better than they did; and at last, no more enduring the endless comments about how easy something must be if she can do it. It was a breath of fresh air.

But one thing didn’t change: the gatekeepers were ready and waiting.

The majority of students who graduate from college with a computer science degree are White or Asian, and the majority of those students are male. Studies point out numerous reasons for this, from the cultural stereotypes that surround computer science to the sexism that pervades the field in companies and universities. But the crucial element that discourages diversity in computer science? Gatekeeping—that is, controlling and limiting access to something. It’s not just the big companies that do this—it starts with schools failing to reach those who need the most help.

You’d think a place like Wellesley College wouldn’t have this problem. Yet last year, a CS professor at Wellesley accidentally sent out to the CS student body a document meant for faculty. It contained a list of “problem students” who, according to a subsequent faculty explanation, were struggling in class and needed to have a watchful eye kept on their progress. While we’ll never know for sure the list’s exact purpose, some students correctly identified it for what it was: a key component of gatekeeping. Just by seeing their names, the listed students were discouraged from continuing their classes because they were taking more time to program than they should. This document heightened awareness of how professors and lab instructors keep each other informed of which students are doing poorly. Ostensibly, instructional faculty do this so that those students can receive more help, but it’s unclear how many students received that help and how many dropped their major after the list was circulated.

CS faculty are the first to welcome anyone into the department, but   the gatekeeping at Wellesley is much more overt than the professors think. The first two introductory classes for CS have long been known for “weeding out” students who want to go into CS; discouraged by their difficulty and the time sink required for a passing grade, many drop the courses and pursue other interests. Even as the department is growing as interest in coding increases, these two classes prevent too many students from experiencing the fascinating aspects of computer science.

It shouldn’t be this way. Programming and the knowledge surrounding it should be accessible, especially since the world around us is becoming increasingly reliant on computers—your smartphone has artificial intelligence built into all of its core systems, and in the last ten years, virtual reality has left clunky machines behind and moved to affordable headsets. But gatekeeping keeps computer science out of reach for students who don’t meet the minimum requirement (read: White or Asian cisgender male). The assignments for many CS classes list the number of hours it takes to complete them; go over that hour limit and you are supposed to seek help from faculty or peers. Imagine how demoralizing it is to see some peers breeze through assignments when you have to constantly go to the help room and office hours. For some, it’s easier to just give up and take different courses. Who wants to spend fifteen hours on a single problem set?  Who wouldn’t rather do anything else?

Help room and office hours can be intimidating for a first-year student, particularly for first generation students and students of non-White and non-Asian descent. No one should be ashamed of how long it takes to learn to program. It’s time for colleges in general—and Wellesley in particular—to have a more robust program in place to catch students who slip through the cracks. It’s time for them to promote the diverse environment they claim to support.