The other day I had the unfortunate pleasure of making a visit to the AT&T store in Stillwater, Oklahoma after I dropped and shattered my phone. I walked in with my replacement device and was greeted at the door by a ginger-haired man with glasses and an heir of superiority. I explained the situation and he obliged to my request to transfer my 1600 pictures and 300 videos. The AT&T man began to chat me up and noticed that I had on a sorority shirt. After a few demeaning remarks, basic generalizations, and a few sexist implications, I finally left the store in a huff. I'd like to thank the AT&T man, though, because he prompted a series of thoughts about just why I went Greek, and I'd like to share them with you.

Despite what AT&T man, or anyone else for that matter, thinks they know about Greek life, let me be explicitly clear when I say that just because I own the same t-shirt as those two hundred girls in my chapter does NOT mean we are the same. When I wear letters across my chest, I am proud (and not because our T-shirt chair produces super cute t-shirts. Thanks, Megan Bene). I am proud to wear the letters that women have been wearing since 1885. I am proud because I am a part of a group of women who promote strength, self-sufficiency, and healthy love and relationships.

I am proud because my sisterhood promotes personal development and financial responsibility. My sisters are smart, talented, and educated young women with a desire to succeed, live and have fun. I have sisters that love to stay in and watch movies with me or get dressed up and go out too. I have sisters who pray with me and stay up late to talk or help me study.

I am proud to be a sorority woman because it has further developed the way I view the world and the people in it. Not only can I walk down the formal staircase in four-inch heels (I only tripped once, then swiftly caught myself before gravity took over) while singing a door song, but I can also have deep meaningful conversations with people with a level of confidence that cannot be taught in a classroom. My love for philanthropy has been fostered and has shown me that there is always a need to do something more.

I think the trouble with people like the AT&T man is that they have these preconceived notions about how fraternity men and women are supposed to act, and when we do not fit that gross stereotype, they aren't quite sure what to do with us.

Had he taken more than a half a glance at me, he would know that I have a deep thirst to help others and serve my savior. He would know that I have caught the travel bug and have ambition that is too big for my own good. Had he looked further than the letters on my t-shirt, he would have seen that the women who I look up to have taught me how to be fiercely independent and to know first and foremost how to take care of yourself (thanks, La La). AT&T man would know that I have gone through tragedy and heartache, much like everyone else, and that those experiences have shaped the way I view the world and every person I encounter.

I had a doozy of a summer and questioned whether my membership in my sorority was something I should continue. If it weren't for a wise young woman living in Colorado (thanks, Kara), I would have made a pivotal mistake. I would have missed out on the late night laughs that come with living in house, the further developed independence that accompanies being a sophomore in-house, the friendships and connections that will prove useful and invaluable in my future career, the sisters that helped me question whether my faith is my own or something I had because I was dragged to church since birth, and lastly the chance to spend time with people who are so different from me, but no less valuable or special.

I am proud to wear my letters because they signify ideals that I am proud to uphold. Those letters represent my sister Taylor who has a heart bigger than Texas and would drop everything to help someone in need. Those letters represent my sister Lauren who carries her four foot eleven figure with the self-assuredness and confidence that I can only dream of having. Those letters represent my sister Allison who is a Chemical Engineering major and one of the smartest people I know. Those letters that I throw on every day without much thought represent my sister Madeline whose fiery red hair matches her distinct and hilarious personality. We are not the same, we are not air-headed, and we do not live solely for the party.

So, I guess my next question is:

"You srat bro?"