I have always wanted to be in a sorority. I wanted the lettered T-shirts, the social status, cute pictures, and lifelong friendships that I saw in the movies. When I was applying to college, I made sure to pick schools with a big Greek life, and several chapters to choose from. Everyone I had ever talked to that was in a house, absolutely loved it and encouraged me to rush nonstop. I knew the stereotypes and urban legends but had never met a single person who regretted becoming part of a “Sisterhood”.
When I arrived at college, a week early for Formal Recruitment, I was beyond excited. I spent all summer building my rush wardrobe, getting recommendation letters, and watching hundreds of YouTube videos on how to excel during Rush Week. I never felt so ready for anything. As the week went on, I loved every second of it. I loved meeting new people, talking all day, and touring mansion-like homes that I could picture myself in with every round that passed. Although getting dropped from houses that I loved hurt, I knew deep down that it would all work out and I would end up in the right house. On the morning of Bid Day I was positive that I would get into the house that I wanted, and when I found out that I had it was one of the best feelings. Bid Day was one of my favorite memories that I have had so far in college, so needless to say I thought it was the start of the happiest four years of my life… I had never been so wrong.
The first few weeks I knew right away that I didn’t fit in. I couldn’t connect to any of the girls in my pledge class and found myself dreading all the events. As time went on, I kept telling myself that I just needed to be initiated and then I would start to reap all the benefits that a sorority had to offer. However, initiation came and went and I still felt out of place. With every girl I met, I was more and more convinced that I made the wrong choice. I started wishing that I had picked another house during recruitment, or dropped before initiation so that I could at least start over the next year. I was frustrated and upset that something I was so excited for, turned out to be fulfilling every stereotype that I had ignored. The whole thing felt superficial, pointless, and not valuable. I was so disappointed and began to think that I was the problem, and I needed to start acting differently so that I would fit in more. Once those thoughts entered my mind I realized that I needed to drop. There was no way I was going to spend the next four years pretending to be someone I wasn’t while being full of insecurity. I made the decision to drop and felt completely content while doing it. The weekend after I had made it official, I was reassured that I made the decision when I was called a bitch by a former “sister” for choosing to make myself happy.
Whether I chose the wrong house or Greek Life just wasn’t for me, I’m happy with my decision to drop from my sorority. No number of cute pictures or PR T-Shirts is worth unhappiness. I’m proud of myself for knowing my values and being strong enough to leave situations that don’t align with them. Not being in Greek Life is not the end of the world, and has hardly made a difference in my college experience. I’m excited for all the opportunities that college will bring me for growth, friendships, and happiness. This experience helped me gain a better sense of who I am and what I want, and I couldn’t be more grateful.
