Life, Love and Greek Life Pt. 2
The first few weeks after Bid Day — where you dress up in a white dress, go to your new house, formally accept your bid and meet your new sisters — is really exciting. The girls try and pair you up with three sisters they think you might best get along with, one per week. These girls, for Alpha Gam’s, were called Rose Buddies. I met my first Rose Buddy on Bid Day and she showed me the ropes, introduced me to some of the other girls, and generally just tried to make me feel welcome. I’m pretty sure that later that same night we went to a frat party but my memory is foggy on that and maybe also possibly I don’t want to get the sororities in trouble. Rest assured, one way or another they did welcome us into the sorority that night and show us a good time.
After that, life really did change for awhile. I had chapter every Monday, I started recognizing girls around campus from my house and from Rush, and every other Thursday or so we had what was called a “social” with a fellow fraternity. A social consisted of assigning a theme — always cheesy, sometimes with lewd interpretations — and meeting up at a bar that we had rented out for a few hours. The sorority girls would then interact with the fraternity brothers all while wearing costumes. Off the top of my heads, I remember themes like “cops & robbers”, “mathletes and athletes”, “the roaring 20s”, and “Jersey Shore”. I have to say, I always enjoyed the getting dressed up part far more than the socializing with frat bros part. As ridiculous as you might have looked to the outside world, you knew you were a part of something. Often, a few sisters and I would go out on the town after the social ended, still in our costumes, and enjoy the stares. For a minute, I felt like I belonged, I drank the Kool aid. Then slowly, the rose colored glasses started to come off.
To be fair, I had quite a few things working against me. For one, I wasn’t from the south originally. The cultural differences were distinct. I didn’t know how to dress like I walked out of a catalog each day, curling irons scared me, eyeliner was to me only a thing to be worn in large quantities on nights out, and I still don’t wear lipstick to this day. Secondly, I rushed as a junior when most of the rest of the girls in my rush class were incoming freshman. This meant I lived off campus, we had none of the same classes, I didn’t eat in the dining halls, I kind of already knew the ropes of college, and, being old for my year, I was able to legally drink very soon after joining AGD. Thirdly, (is thirdly a word?), I was in a long distance relationship so I wasn’t fawning over every cute frat bro that passed me a solo cup. And finally, I was an introvert. The cards were not stacked in my favor. I quickly gravitated towards the older girls in my sorority, those in my year or the year above, but they had already formed tightly knit friend groups and even though we were in the same sisterhood, it was hard for an introverted Midwestern girl to fit in. I was becoming more and more disenfranchised with the idea as time went on and then, to top it off, my big sister — the Rose Buddy who ended up getting me as her Little Sister — quit the sorority. I felt like an island in this big scary house of girls who had all already seemed to form lasting bonds. My GrandBig tried to take me under her wing, but as an extremely extroverted senior, there was only so much she could do for me in her time left at the school. And just when I thought I couldn’t feel less like I was in a sisterhood, IRD happened.
IRD is International Reunion Day. It happens once a year in April and the alumni of AGD (or maybe it is all sororities?) come back, have lunch, and talk about sisterhood and what the sorority did for them. It is a whole day meant to inspire and give back. It is a day I’ll never forget. I don’t want to spout too much unfiltered bitterness here because sororities do really seem to work for some girls, but the glass was shattered for me on sororities that day. After having had sorority sisters tell us day in and day out for nearly 9 months that our image was important, we dressed up for IRD in our Sunday best with heads held high and expectations aglow. To be clear, when I say “our image”, I mean “our weight”. Sorority girls were supposed to be thin. Not everyone was, so there was some acceptance there, but it was the majority and the expectation. Yet when we sat down to lunch that day, trapped in this conference hall for the next 6–7 hours, what food were we served? Sweet tea, fried chicken, biscuits, mashed potatoes, some green beans that were so coated in butter they might as well have not been vegetables anymore, and dessert. Lemon bars, I believe. Tell me, as a 18–22 yr old girl with body issues being told every day to be thinner, would it not be confusing to you that one of the very sources telling you this choose to feed you the artery clogging meal I described above? I felt so thrown and also kind of alone. Was I the only girl in the world who had to eat healthy food in small portions in order to maintain my weight?
While I was still processing this, the long awaited keynote speaker came to the podium to speak while we ate. I won’t name names, though I’ll remember hers forever. Our leaders in AGD had been hyping up seeing this woman speak for weeks leading up to IRD and I was genuinely looking forward to it. I wanted to see an adult get up there and inspire me, tell me all the ways that joining the sorority changed her life. They were especially proud because she had attended UGA and been in our chapter, which of course further excited me. Our chapter was so great that even some 30 years later, this woman was still coming back to speak. She waltzed up to the podium, with a body not unlike that of Paula Dean, and began her speech. There might have been a few moments of inspirational, hopeful chatter, but I only remember staring slack jawed as this 50+ year old woman told a roomful of girls in no uncertain terms that we needed to be mindful of our weight. That we needed to be mindful of the weight of our sisters. That we needed to tell our sisters if they weighed too much or looked bad in their clothes because of their weight. And finally, that we all needed to own a pair of Spanx. At 21 years old, weighing 112 lbs, and standing at 5’2’’, I was vaguely familiar with the concept of Spanx but had no inclination to own my own pair. Yet here was this woman, this sister, telling me that I needed to run on out and buy some. I had no idea what to feel. Angry? Sad? Appalled? As though I needed to go on a diet starting that day? I can tell you what I didn’t feel though. That day, I felt no trace of sisterhood. To me, that room was filled with judgement and nothing more.
Not wanting to bore you all with a “Part 3” post on Greek Life, I will close by saying that my participation in my sorority declined sharply after that day. It became a means to an end and sometimes even an obligation more than anything else. There were more struggles senior year, but as they were of a similar shade of blue, let’s just leave it at: I never felt I belonged there. I share this not because I seek pity, sympathy, or am attempting to be an advocate for not joining Greek Life. I think our trials and tribulations make us who we are and Greek Life is absolutely part of mine. No, I share this only because this is my story and that was part of it.
Because of AGD, I went on to join a business fraternity called PSE or Pi Sigma Epsilon. PSE was an incredible experience that I wouldn’t trade for the world and I never would have found it without AGD. Though we don’t interact as often as I’d like, I have a “Lil Sis” because of AGD and I’ll be attending her wedding this year. Every experience has a purpose in your life, a lesson to be learned. Much as I would have preferred a different outcome for myself regarding Greek Life, I still learned. I still grew. I still gained.
