I remember the crowd. Full of girls that looked exactly like each other. One after another, perfectly filed in a line to meet their Pi Chi groups. Fake smiles that masked intimidation while getting their party lists and awkward small talk to gratify the wait. I wore a darker colored dress and flats while the swarms around me wore pastels and wedges. I was constantly reminding myself that this was worth it, but I was wrong.

I walked into the first house and was greeted by foreign faces that encompassed me and tried to make me feel welcome but I was more so completely terrified that a stranger's sweaty palms and runny tan was grasping my bicep with such resilient intent. We walked hand in hand with such grace and routine until we were seated and the room suddenly grew into an amphitheater of screaming fans. Fans that were girls fighting to get my attention just so they could remind me that their house was in fact the best. This went on for days.

First, it entailed meeting all 13 sororities in one day, constantly repeating the same script I had burned in my memory: where I'm from, what my major is, and why I decided to go through recruitment—still very unsure on that. I had to consistently remember which house I was in and try to assure myself that if awkward silence does happen not to look around the room in sheer panic. By the next day, I looked down at my invitation list and I was severed by more houses than I expected…was it my hair, was I awkward, was it because I was more of an artsy person and not a sporty person? I realized that nothing in the world should make me question who I am, especially by a group of girls that judged me based on a few questions and what I was wearing that day.

It's unnatural, to say the least. It felt like I was on an episode of "Survivor," fighting to get a bid and judging the girls that surrounded me to make myself feel better. It was barbaric and unkind, so I quit recruitment. Now, I am not much of a “quit when the going gets tough" type, but I will quit when the going gets brutal. Instead of feeling like I should belong, I found myself questioning whether or not I was good enough. Quitting entailed multiple tears and severance of a few friendships that were only built on the shared jitters of meeting girls that wanted to call us "sis," but it ultimately worked out for the best in that I left the typical college town in search for something new, something better.

I joined a new school of fresh faces that didn't scream, “Join Greek life or be miserable in college!" I saw girls from different backgrounds that weren't afraid to embrace individuality and weren't gossiping about each other. I decided to give recruitment another go, so I put on my armor, which now was in the shape of jeans and a band t shirt and walked into a room where the girls weren't plastered with fake smiles but were genuinely interested in my love for folk bands and writing. It was small, but it worked.