I never thought I would be in a sorority, and that isn’t an understatement. In high school, I was a cynical theater kid and shows like Greek, though I enjoyed watching them, always made me throw up in my mouth a little. From a young age, I swore off rushing and all things Greek Life because I saw myself as a strong, intelligent woman who was better than an institution that thrives on having the best clothes, the longest legs, or the shiniest hair (and I had a firm zero out of three, if you haven’t already guessed). That’s what I thought sororities were like, but alas, when the time came for orientation at my small liberal arts school, I realized that Greek Life was a big part of the campus community. However, to my surprise it was modest and not over-the-top the way I'd imagined. The girls seemed nice and genuinely welcoming. Logic forced me to betray my previous bias, and I *gulp* gave it a try.
I ended up joining a house and proceeded to dive head-first into sorority life. My family members were shocked to say the least, but happy for me since I was absolutely over the moon. I met my best friends and participated in our homecoming lip sync skit. I realized this was where I was always meant to be. I had found a home.
The beginning of the year is full of events, and things calmed down a bit after first semester. I felt a great friendship with my sisters, but still wasn’t feeling the intense bond that everyone kept talking about. There was a small part of me that wondered if the magic of first semester was wearing off, and then everything changed.
In the middle of second semester, I went through a major life event. Years of hard work had finally paid off, and I took on a really big project. In my eyes, it was life-changing. I started off on a high, bouncing off the walls with energy, excited for the journey ahead. I felt like I was on track for something great. But soon, things got hard. Then very hard. Eventually, almost impossible. I had been in tough situations before, but this felt different, personal, and struck a chord within me. At one time I was so confident, but now I doubted everything. I wondered whether I could trust myself and my decisions, wondered if I was headed in the right direction. I couldn’t sleep. I could barely eat. My makeup shelf went untouched. I stopped going out because I had too much work. My life-force was being eaten away, and I didn’t know where to turn. Little did I know, help was on the way.
My sisters sensed my distress and came to my aid, no questions asked. I had never experienced such kindness in my life. They talked through my problems with me in the late night hours, offering suggestions to help me through. They saw me crying in my floor lobby, dropping everything to see if I was okay, staying with me even though they didn’t have to. They gave me encouragement at meetings, offering to help with whatever I needed. One sister even put cupcakes at my door, with “You can do it!” taped onto the box. Finally, when the project came to a close, and I had made it through, they were there to cheer me on, and allowed me to actually feel good about myself and the work I had put in.
My sisters aren’t just “good friends.” They aren’t people I “pay to like me” as some love to criticize. They held me in their arms like they would a family member, and I felt their warmth at a time when I was so cold. When I didn't feel like myself, they didn't reel away. They showed me that their support is unconditional, and with that I knew I could trust them with anything.
A sorority is not something that exists to further social status, or a means to party and meet guys. A sorority facilitates female bonding and empowerment, where one can become their best self, helped along by a vast support system ready to catch them when they fall. Even though we bicker sometimes, as all families often do, my love for my sisters is legendary. I know they’ll always have my back, as I will have theirs. That’s the most important thing.
That’s what sisterhood means to me.
