Music as Medicine

American life demands constant productivity, endless credentialing, and the ability to “push through” mental and physical exhaustion. In this kind of system, the healing power of music often gets overlooked. But for students drowning in debt and anxiety, and for workers scraping by on insecure jobs, music is not a luxury—it’s medicine.

Not the kind prescribed in a bottle, or preached from a wellness seminar, but the kind that gets passed around like food among the hungry. The kind that makes survival just a little more possible.

Rhythm as Resistance

Punk delivers a pulse. Hip hop confronts. Lo-fi offers stillness. Soul mourns and uplifts. Gospel affirms. Cumbia moves bodies and memory alike. Every genre has a place in the emotional survival kit. Music provides what many institutions will not: solace, solidarity, self-definition, and release.

In moments of despair or burnout, songs become tools. They make it easier to study through pain, to organize in the face of injustice, or to get through another shift when the body wants to quit.

Music isn’t an escape—it’s a way through.

Crisis of Mind and Spirit

The student mental health crisis isn’t new, but it’s getting worse. Depression, anxiety, panic attacks, and burnout are rising, especially among working-class students, queer students, first-generation students, and students of color. Most colleges still underfund counseling centers while promoting toxic grind culture as “excellence.”

The workforce behind higher ed—adjunct professors, custodians, food service workers, library aides—faces its own mental and physical toll. Poverty wages, no benefits, unpredictable schedules. Institutions offer self-care slogans but rarely structural care.

Music fills that gap. It helps people regulate, reflect, and remember who they are beyond their role as a debtor, a grade, or a disposable employee.

Better Than Drugs. Better Than Casual Sex.

Music can do what substances and momentary escapes can’t. It doesn’t just numb. It heals. It doesn’t demand something in return. It gives freely.

It’s better than drugs. Better than casual sex. Not because it replaces pleasure or distraction—but because it doesn’t disappear when the high fades or the night ends. Music stays. It strengthens memory. It affirms identity. It provides both an outlet and a connection.

One song can bring someone back from the edge. One mixtape can hold together a semester of struggle. One shared playlist can spark a sense of belonging in a student who otherwise feels invisible.

Soundtrack to Survival

Labor movements have always known this. Music builds morale, strengthens solidarity, and carries memory. From protest anthems to spoken word to DIY tracks shared over group chats, students and workers use sound as shield and weapon.

A cafeteria worker begins a shift with cumbia in their ears. A grad student blocks out burnout with jazz. An adjunct powers through grading with Nina Simone. A student protester blasts Kendrick Lamar from a portable speaker before a sit-in. These are not just habits. These are survival strategies.

Political Practice in Every Note

Songs carry more than rhythm. They carry critique, hope, rebellion, and care. They are blueprints for a world where people matter more than profits. Music doesn’t just reflect the present—it helps imagine the future.

In the face of debt peonage, student surveillance, and wage theft, music reminds people of their worth. The right track becomes a reminder: You are not what the system says you are. You are not alone.

Music doesn’t require a login, a tuition payment, or a therapist’s referral. It’s available on bus rides, late nights, walkouts, break rooms, and dorm corners. It teaches without condescension. It organizes without hierarchy. It heals without permission.

The HEI Perspective

Most discussions of education policy focus on financial models, enrollment trends, or test scores. But we believe emotional and cultural survival matters just as much. Especially when institutions are failing those they claim to serve.

At the Higher Education Inquirer, we listen to what gets students and workers through the day. Not because it’s trendy—but because it’s urgent.

Music keeps people going when systems fail. That makes it a public good. A political force. And yes, a kind of medicine.

Healing begins when people feel heard. Rhythm helps carry the weight.

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The Higher Education Inquirer
Coming soon: Soundtrack for Resistance – curated by students and workers.