The fewer policies that the Boy Scouts of America has regulating membership, the better the organization will fulfill its goal of spurring personal growth in teenage boys. The core value of scouting is found in its lack of adult involvement and overbearing direction—that’s how it fosters independence and self-discovery.

I only learned about scouting’s exclusionary membership policy from the newspaper. In my troop, we never discussed whether someone should or should not be a scout. All you had to do was show up at a meeting to become one. Our scoutmasters were little more than organizers. They gave us money for buying supplies, drove us to a campsite, and then sat back and watched while we figured out how to help each other set up tents, build fires, and protect ourselves from the rain.

In the midst of idyllic groves and creeks, pitching campsites was analogous to pitching identities. Issues that were forbidden in classrooms were the staple of our fireside conversations—all sorts of naïve misconceptions and prejudices were floated regarding class, ethnicity, gender, and courtship—only to be quickly challenged by some and subjected to discussion by all. Despite the fanciful notions of scouting’s national leaders, there are few environments more saturated with covert talk about sexuality than a Boy Scout campsite in the middle of the Midwestern woodlands.

Our troop was successful because it created a community of equals in which scouts could challenge their conceptions of self and society and grow as individuals. If our troop had more diverse membership, this dynamic would only have been more positive.

The most beautiful part of scouting is its kaleidoscopic nature: Many local troops, with traditions of their own, each of which is made up of unique individuals, creating distinct identities for themselves. Like our country, scouting must not be afraid to contradict itself, to be large and contain multitudes.

Nikhil R. Mulani ’14, a Crimson editorial executive, is an Eagle Scout.