When I was a senior in high school, if you had told me that I would be in a sorority my freshman year of college, I would have laughed in your face and recommended you seek psychiatric care. I thought of myself as studious, down to earth, and normal-- not a vapid barbie doll worried about the next mixer, or obnoxiously sobbing on bid day because I had found my "forever home." I wasn't interested in looking perfect, or fake-smiling all year at girls I didn't even like. All summer, my big sister tried to convince me that being in a sorority was a worthwhile experience, both fun and rewarding, but I saw greek life as a cesspool of superficiality, partying, and people I had nothing in common with. I had long ago decided it wasn't for me.
Then, I got to college.
I remember sitting in my dorm room the second week of school in August, crying my eyes out from homesickness and feeling more alone than I have ever felt in my life. Looking around campus, it seemed like every other girl I saw was in a sorority, and having much more fun than me as I ran through Friends marathons and ate ramen noodles alone in my room. I felt lost, unsure of how to kickstart my college life, and afraid I never would. I was jealous of those girls who already had friends they genuinely liked, events to go, and people to talk to all over campus. My sister only gave me a big fat "I told you so," as I cried into the phone, and told her I wish that I had gone through recruitment only two weeks earlier. Then, she offered a solution.
Recruitment had been particularly tough at my school that year, and several sororities were participating in the continuous open bidding. I contacted several chapters, explaining my situation and expressing my interest. The chapter I liked best invited me to lunch at their house, and I was excited but skeptical; I still wasn't sure that I wanted to be a part of this superficial world.
I showed up to their house so jittery they probably thought something was wrong with me. I tried my best not to trip, tried not to completely inhale my fajitas, and generally tried to be a polite young lady (an incredible feat for me). I was so nervous I thought I was going to be sick, and so self-conscious I was sure that every move I made was wrong. Halfway through lunch, one girl mentioned her struggles with finding the right underwear for a certain type of dress. I chimed in that I could relate. As we began to discuss our underwear situation, clothes, dance, hometowns, and life, I found myself completely lost in conversation with the nicest, most down to earth girls I had ever met, completely forgetting my nerves and insecurities. I couldn't believe it when I finally looked up and saw that the tables had been cleared and almost everyone had left; I wasn't ready to say goodbye.
Walking away from the house, I felt a mixture of emotions. Excitement, relief, and hope carried me back to my dorm, but I also felt a knot growing in my stomach: I would have to eat my words about greek life, and admit that I was wrong. I was wrong about those sweet, friendly, and ridiculously cool girls who had invited me into their house. They weren't vapid, or any more obnoxious than me. They were funny, smart, hilarious and welcoming, and I had so harshly judged them and their entire community while hiding behind my pretentious attitude, without ever truly giving them a chance.
When they called me later that afternoon to offer me a bid to join their sisterhood, I squealed with excitement, ready for the events and the shirts and the laugh-out-loud moments with some amazing girls. After being in my sorority for over a year, I have found that belonging to a greek chapter is so much more than that.
It's a group of 250 women ready to give you a smile and ask you about your day when you walk through the door. They are girls who love and support you for your letters at first, but once they get to know you, they love you because of who you are.
The greek community is more than frat parties and hooking up. We have carried each other through nights of worship, football wins and losses, and the deaths of fellow students gone too soon. It's a support system and an instant connection across a vastly diverse group of students and has led me to some of my best friends.
Becoming a member of greek life is not about conforming to a stereotype, as I had once so vehemently thought. It's not about stupidity, appearance, and partying (although I'll admit that part is seriously fun). It's about thousands of students from different backgrounds, lifestyles, cultures and races coming together, united by letters and the bonds of sisterhood and brotherhood. Greek life is not what I thought it was, and I'm forever glad I put aside my prejudice and gave it a chance.
