Candy Everybody Wants
February 7th, 2007
So! I decided to partake in sorority rush! And this is a day late! Not that anyone was, ah, waiting with bated breath or anything.
Before I go into this, I should note that this is my experience with sororities – it should in no way be construed as a blanket statement that all sororities are bad, and all people who are in sororities are bad, stupid and a bunch of followers. In fact, when people say things like that, it makes me angry, because it just isn’t true. Everyone sees experiences through their own filter, and if I’d ended up loving it, even I would see this history differently. And not everyone had the same experiences, even at the same school, in the same sorority. I’m sure – no, I know – there are women who loved it. I just wasn’t one of them.
To recap: I was stranded in a dorm full of environmental students who went to a different school, and I felt entirely out of place. My roommate was on the crew team and went to bed at 9 p.m. every night, while the rest of my dorm was studying whether lily pads would survive in water the color of Kool-Aid, and I certainly wasn’t meeting anyone in my classes, given that most of them – at the tender age of 19 – already owned several diamonds that were more than three carats. Well…except for one. Enter Megan, a sophomore in my sociology class whom I’d become friendly with, who talked to me extensively about rushing! Rushing was so great! Sisterhood was awesome and not at all stereotypical! And guess what else? Megan was on scholarship too! Hooray! Rushing was for me!
I mean, obviously it wasn’t as simple as all that, but it certainly appealed to my sense of organization and structure, and hell, if it would get me out of the tree dorm and give me some sort of platform to relate to the neverending stream of teenage BMW drivers, I was all for it. Or halfway for it. Or at least borderline not-opposed to it or SOMETHING, I don’t know, I just couldn’t take things the way they were anymore.
Rush, to put it simply, is the process prospective pledges go through to see if sorority life is for them – both on their end, and on the side of the houses. But first! Oh yes, first – you have to attend a wildly bizarre presentation where rabid, chihuahua-like women run around in lettered sweatshirts and screech the Greek alphabet in singsong and holler about sisterhood and all of its benefits. Sisterhood is fun! Sisterhood is next to godliness! And then you sign a form that probably includes a suicide clause that states that you will not hold the SU Pan-Hellenic Association responsible if you don’t get in anywhere and opt to off yourself instead, and into the jungle you go.
Rushees are divided into groups, given a leader (called a Rho Chi) and a schedule, and shipped off on their merry way to tour the houses. The whole process is divided into a few rounds – how many, I can’t remember – three, four? The whole idea is that as you go around to the houses, they decide – based on a five-second conversation with as many overly perfumed sisters as they can parade in front of you – whether they’d like to ask you back, and separately, you decide whether you’d like to come back, and so on, until the final round, where you get your bid. A day or two after each round, you got an envelope with a Scantron sheet and a list of the houses who asked you back. You filled in the little circles with a #2 golf pencil indicating where you wanted to return, and headed back out for another round, same as the first.
The house visits are where the pain begins. The houses were varied, overwhelming and ranged from the clearly rich to the dangerously desperate. A smattering:
- At Rich Superskinny House (I mean, I’d be shocked if anyone in there ate more than one peanut a week. I was marveling non-stop at the overwhelming dangerous THINNESS), I was asked no fewer than three times what my father did, and whether I had a car, and if so, what kind? Because the sister was JUST DYING to tell me about her new Audi. And did I have an Audi? Because she really liked Audis, especially hers.
- Dying, Desperate House was in such dire straits and in danger of losing their physical house due to waning membership that they were outright begging rushees to pledge DPhiE, and they KNEW everyone called them Dogs, Pigs, Elephants, but they did, in fact, have a model in the house! A real, live model! So they were hot! If you joined, you would be hot, too, and maybe even become a model. There were no dogs, pigs or elephants here!
- Another Rich, but not Quite as Rich and Not the Skinniest House greeted the rushees with an impenetrable wall of sisters who were deeply tanned and highlighted, wearing black and dripping in diamonds. Terrifying as hell, is what it was.
- Quasi-normal but Still Stepford-Like House did a skit that outlined the fashion “must haves” for Spring Rush, and highlighted the fact that the right sister would have the latest Georgia boots (something with a stacked heel and no, I didn’t have them) and a hooded coat with toggle buttons. It was meant to be tongue in cheek, but I think they were serious. Georgia boots were big.
- At Random, Non-Descript Sorority With the Historical House, I had what was possibly the most inane conversation of my entire life that included the words, “My boyfriend is in DEKE! DEKE! DEKE! What house is your boyfriend in?” more times than I can even recall. It didn’t seem to matter that I didn’t have a boyfriend, because if I joined AChiO I could have a boyfriend in DEKE! DEKE! DEKE! too, because they – DEKE! – were right next door.
- Rich, Predominately Jewish House let me know that they had some “concerns.. I mean not BIG concerns, it’s just that…well, we’re mostly Jewish, but it’s just worked out that way, because we don’t judge people – like you – who aren’t Jewish! In fact, we have a few non-Jews!…Like Betty!” and then the sister I was talking with pointed at the token shiksa in the room. I visibly blanched and rolled my eyes, and they never asked me back. You may recall I have a small sensitivity to this.
And so on. The only three that seemed to have the slightest shred of sanity were Kappa (where the sisters I met had tattoos, and I am easily swayed by tattoos). Theta (where I think I should have ended up, if I were going to torture myself with this kind of thing) and the one I ended up in, where I knew Megan belonged, and where I had formed a vague connection with a sister who also smoked two packs a day like me, and we “bonded” over our inability to walk up the stairs without wheezing, despite being superthin. If that’s not sisterhood, I don’t know what is. And for anyone reading for the first time, I quit six years ago, and if you saw me and heard that I used to smoke a lot, you would laugh at me, for I do not look like a smoker. At all.
Knowing what I know now, I will say that the rush process is actually among the more disgusting things in this world. So much depends on factors that don’t even involve the sisters and their “deep, personal connections.” Instead, it relies on connections of another kind: for example, each house is typically required to give preferential treatment to someone who was either referred by alumni, is the sibling of a current or past member, or has any kind of relative in their recent familial history – mom, grandma, aunt, and so on. If someone is a legacy of any sort, it’s a near-lock that they’ll get a bid, even if they set the living room on fire and farted on your face while making out with your dad. A double or triple legacy is given the first born of the sorority president and unobstructed access to free sex with your boyfriend for life. And, finally, preference is also given to – the weirdest of all – a girl who grew up in or around the area of the college, the theory being that they will return after they graduate to donate lots and lots of money to the chapter.
Add these facts to the fact that the rushee is put through such a vigorous rotation of sisters who have a secret code of signs, signals and buzzwords to help move the process along (and rescue them from a dud), that each conversation – the conversation that is supposed to be the catalyst for a lifetime of happiness and devotion – lasts about three minutes. And in those three minutes, they decide if they really really like you (in our house, they got a rating of ‘silver’ on their index card); just like you, but have reservations (‘gold’ on the index card) or would rather throw up on their shoes than spend time with you again (‘blue’ on the index card. The sorority colors!) It should be noted that after one year of rush on the sister side, I applied to be a Rho Chi for the next two years. I did exactly one rush in my sororal tenure, while other people were subjected to at least four, including fall rushes for sophomores – the process was that untenable.
In other words, it’s a totally fair game, and admission is based on nothing but the true spirit of a person, as determined in three minutes or less and maybe the quality of your shoes. Extra points for Georgia boots and visible time spent in a tanning booth.
You’re wondering why I put myself through this. Me too.
*10,000 Maniacs.
Entry Filed under: Nuttin'
22 Comments Add your own
1. Orange Peacock | February 8th, 2007 at 12:32 am
I know I said it already, but I ADORE YOU for posting this. Could not have come at a better time for me personally. It’s one thing to have my wonderful friends reassure me that the critical reason I’ve been cut twice is because I don’t come with a limited warranty, a battery slot, and a barcode on my neck, but it’s also reassuring to hear bitterness from someone who actually did the whole nine yards.
Wow, that was the lousiest comment ever. Ohhhh, well.
Also, I would not be surprised if the security code for a comment one of these days is a profanity. They seem to get progressively weirder and wordlike.
2. Tania | February 8th, 2007 at 6:42 am
I find this an irresistibly fascinating sociological exposé and cannot wait for you to tell me more. Having gone to NYU, where my first week it was revealed to me that there were fraternities and sororities, after which I never encountered them again, I read this post as if it were a deep anthropological dissection of the king-selection process of some profoundly political primitive clan persisting somewhere in northern Scotland. Or something. Please, more. Will there be dragons?
3. Sadie | February 8th, 2007 at 7:22 am
Oh, my God, just WHY? I mean, I truly could not imagine a worse social construct than a sorority. It’s just so ridiculous and horrible and and…and you haven’t even gotten to the BAD parts yet?!
I just, bah, I have never understood why people feel that in order to make friends and forge beneficial relationships, they need to join a CLUB full of tanorexic bitches who do mean things to each other as a determination of “worthiness” for entrance. Orange Peacock, I implore you to realize how pathetic it is and run away screaming!!
4. Anna | February 8th, 2007 at 7:31 am
I had a couple of friends who were in sororities~ which houses, I couldn’t say. One of them told me a story that gave me hope. During rush, the neighboring house had signs in their bathrooms reminding the sisters to “Look for designer labels and gold jewelry!” As a lovely little touche, Angie’s house put signs in their bathrooms reminding their sisters to “Look for tattoos and gold teeth!” Makes for happy, innit?
5. jonniker | February 8th, 2007 at 7:52 am
Sadie – I think outlined why, at least for my own circumstances. Sometimes you don’t see what’s really there because you’re in a situation that seems untenable – in my case, I made a poor non-choice of college, and was stuck in a dorm with no friends, and no real way that I saw to make friends, and the one friend I *was* making – who is and was a normal, nice girl – suggested I join a sorority. Now, other people have a need to belong to something that gives them some kind of status. I can only speak for those of us who fell into the wrong place at the wrong time.
Believe it or not, there were brief moments of normalcy, and again, remember that not everyone’s experience is like this.
I don’t necessarily judge anyone who went through this and liked it – everyone is different, and everyone has a different level of tolerance. Plus, if you enjoyed it, you’re not likely to see the same events in the same light.
So much of these details are the manifestation of the socioeconomic make up of Syracuse University – an overwhelming number of privileged rich white kids from Long Island, New York and New Jersey.
6. Lawyerish | February 8th, 2007 at 7:53 am
I *almost* friend-rushed a sorority my sophomore year. It was a cool, relatively chill house, and happened to be the house my mom had been a member of in college. But then I didn’t. And I’m pretty glad about that.
I remember sitting in my dorm room freshman year as all the girls on my hall got calls with bids, and listening to the ear-splitting SCREECHING as the place erupted into chaos. There was one girl — ONE, out of the forty or so who had rushed from our hall — who did not receive a bid. I felt SO sorry for her. She just sat quietly in her room waiting for the phone to ring, and finally shut the door and didn’t come out for a couple of days.
7. Claire | February 8th, 2007 at 8:41 am
Hey, i went to HS with those over-priveleged rich white Long Island kids. I know exactly what you’re talking about. “My daddy got me a BMW…” Did he, now. Super for you.
I used to love rush time. I would sit on a bench on campus and watch the lines of girls marching around campus with a hand on the shoulder of the girl in front of them, wearing matching clothing (sometimes even a beret), dropping one girl at a time off at their classes and marching on to the next building. It was the weirdest ritual i’ve ever seen. It always reminded me of elephants holding on to the tail of the one in front of them with their trunks. So weird.
Wait, is that rushing or hazing.. ? Hmm. now i wonder…
8. jonniker | February 8th, 2007 at 8:47 am
Lawyerish: We only got a phone call if we didn’t get a bid. If you got a bid, no phone call, and you were just instructed to show up the next day at your designated location to receive your envelope.
Claire: That was pledging that you saw. They didn’t want to freak you out before you even arrived.
9. rosie | February 8th, 2007 at 8:57 am
I did the sorority thing in college for 2 semesters for the same reasons as you…
Being on the “other” (as in, sister-side) of rush put me over the edge though. That, or the fact that they kept calling my mom threatening to send her to a collection agency for me not paying my dues….anyway, I ended up quitting.
I still have friends from that experience and I believe I’m the better for it. Like you, I saw brief periods of normalcy. Not all sorority girls are overtanned heinous bitches.
( I wrote about it here..)
10. Sadie | February 8th, 2007 at 8:57 am
Oh, Jonna, I am not attacking or judging you – I can absolutely see how an 18-year-old who is away from home, out of her element, and wanting to fit in could fall prey to the appeal of a sorority. I guess I was just railing at WHY sororities and frats even exist, because they just seem so awful. But of course, this is coming from a person with no personal experience with Greek life – and I know some people just loooooved being a “sister.” Those people, I look at suspiciously.
I know I am being harsh on Greeks life but the thought of the emotional cruelty and cliques and social hierarchy, it just seems completely counterintuitive to the supposed purpose of a sorority.
11. rosie | February 8th, 2007 at 8:58 am
sorry for the double posting…as if my posting a third time makes it any better
12. jonniker | February 8th, 2007 at 9:01 am
Rosie: That was me, actually, trying to be helpful, as I could see the struggle with the security code. I deleted it
Sadie: Oh no worries. I know. I wasn’t intentionally being defensive, just saying that yeah, dude, sometimes you make decisions that seem like a good idea, when in theory, you should know better. I also tend to think of how much of a different person I am now versus when I was 18, 19 and even 22-23 (there were sweater sets, for crying out loud), and I figure maybe other people were the same way.
Your prejudices are not without merit, and, as you can see, are in many cases, dead-on.
13. Jamie | February 8th, 2007 at 9:32 am
I, for one, was highly suspicious of greek life – I still am. But I rushed, and ultimately was very happy with the lot I was given. You have to really know what you’re getting yourself into – maybe because I was so cynical, I was able to see things for what they are and choose to subscribe – to drink the kool-aid, if you will. I have many friends with fantastic experiences, and lots of friends that walked away scarred, with their own share of horror stories.
I found this post so thought provoking that I posted my own entry about it! Thanks, Jonna!
14. Andrea | February 8th, 2007 at 9:59 am
This is fascinating. I had one friend in college in a sorority and it seemed to be a normal-ish house. I’ve heard the horror stories, but have never had first- or even second-hand experience with them. I’m utterly fascinated.
Having dealt with some harsh judgment from grade school (Yes! GRADE SCHOOL SNOBBERY!) because it was a private Catholic grade school where the rich kids went, I got quite enough designer label prejudice thrown my way and didn’t want to risk being cut down in college. Sometimes though, I wonder if I didn’t forgo the opportunity to meet girls I could have really liked. I think it would have hurt my already sensitive self-esteem.
Just my 2 cents on why I didn’t, but sometimes I wonder if I should have.
15. Leah | February 8th, 2007 at 10:24 am
When I visited campus for my sophomore orientation, all the student volunteers kept asking me if I was rushing. “Why, no,” I thought. “I’m just going to take things at a leisurely pace.” I had no idea that “rush” had anything to do with the Greek system and neither did my parents. Even if I did, I couldn’t have joined based on lingo alone–Mormons call fellow members their “brothers” and “sisters” too, and that is something up with which I will not put.
16. Beth | February 8th, 2007 at 10:41 am
I actually WAS waiting for this yesterday, so was very pleased to see it this morn.
I’ve already told my rush story, complete with the conclusion that despite the messed upedness of rush and sure, I bought my friends, I’d do it again.
But something I didn’t tell: My sister (my real one — I refused to ever, ever call a girl in my sorority my sister except in jest) was an Alpha Phi at a nearby campus (which made me a total legacy — you know my picture was on a wall in their basement), and the Alpha Phis on my campus were the desperate house: “And you can hold an office REALLY EARLY here, and there’s LOTS OF OPPORTUNITY to have your voice heard!”
But, I swear to God, they REJECTED me. The desperate house called my sister on the third datebook and told her that they didn’t think we were a good fit. It was extremely traumatic.
My sister threw a giant fit after making sure I hadn’t behaved like a mutant (I hadn’t — I was just quiet), and then filed a complaint with their nationals.
I spent the next three years of college being hated by the (thankfully) non-numerous Alpha Phis.
17. Heather B. | February 8th, 2007 at 1:57 pm
I came within moments of finishing rush, but then I chickened out for some reason. I was a ‘legacy’ but I don’t know…I guess it just wasn’t for me. I think at a school like SU, which is considerably larger than AU, it makes more sense.
But look at that, you were in a sorority, and yet I STILL like you. Amazing.
18. Mr. W | February 8th, 2007 at 3:59 pm
Reminds me of Harry Potter…
19. Suebob | February 9th, 2007 at 10:12 am
I think that some people need more belonging than others. Groups are more cozy for them. I think most of us Internets are the opposite, which is why we like to hang out here.
Its amazing how much of that sorority stuff I absorbed, though I was never involved and none of my friends were, either. I remember the sad and dying house, Kappa Delta, that had all broken toys – the girl from my dorm that ate all her food with her hands, another girl whose ex-BF was stalking her…and Alpha Phi, which at my school only seemed to take blonde ex-cheerleaders with those foghorn voices…Yes, you brought it all back.
I am just frightened of all-women groups, though. I think nothing is as mean or destructive as an insular bunch of women who get on a tear about something.
20. Corinne | February 9th, 2007 at 3:43 pm
HA! Dogs, Pigs, Elephants.
We had Phi Moos. And unfortunately, they were some of the bigger girls.
21. Meepers | February 10th, 2007 at 3:21 am
You make it sound…fun. How? Why? Great stories! Please m’am, can we have some more?
My gut says: This (and my underwhelming grades and poverty) is EXACTLY why I didn’t go to college. I would probably have fantasized about setting the houses on fire. Actually, there is a whole bunch of houses about 15 miles from here, (from whence my second dumbest secretary hailed) and I may have to at least flick lit matches at them.
Sad, no?
Maya
22. Jonniker. » Like Hu&hellip | August 1st, 2007 at 7:06 pm
[...] As is usually the case, I’m the last person in the world to read Pledged: The Secret Life of Sororities, in addition to Winter’s Tale, which oh my God, could I take any longer with this book? I’m enjoying it so much that I’m savoring it like a butterscotch, which is … well, it’s a little ridiculous, is what it is. Anyway, Pledged. Honestly, I’ve written about my sorority experience briefly before, and I guess what shocks me about this book is that really, the “secret” life of sororities? What, exactly, is she exposing here that’s new and unexpected? Girls can be incredibly mean — crueler than cruel, actually, in very subtle, destructive ways — and peer pressure is an unparalleled bitch, especially in such a creepy, self-contained environment where mere adolescents are given far too much power over one another. It’s like Lord of the Flies: Collegiate Edition. We know. [...]
Leave a Comment
Some HTML allowed:
<a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>
Trackback this post | Subscribe to the comments via RSS Feed