Greek Life - Confessions

Greek Life - Sorority

*Warning sensitive content. Reader discretion is advised*

For a West Coast prep school girl, the dream wasn’t only about getting into a top college, it was just as much about landing a spot in one of the top sororities. Being in a “popular” house wasn’t just aspirational, it was everything. By junior year of high school, Greek life felt like the pinnacle of social success. For most girls I knew, the college decision had less to do with academics or campus culture and more to do with how strong the sorority scene was, and whether their connections could even get them into the right house. Without the right network, this dream was almost impossible.

Where I live, you’re introduced to this complex world early. The exposure usually happens through older girls, camp friends, and hometown role models. They were seemingly perfect; thin, tan, pretty, and always carrying a designer bag or wearing expensive jewelry. It looked like they had the best lives. It became clear that this was the path that I was meant to follow, if I wanted to belong.

When I arrived at college it was obvious that looking the part wasn’t optional. Your outfit, bag, and jewelry were not just fashion choices; they were the standard. Eating disorders were common and overlooked because staying thin was considered part of the uniform. It was not enough to look good, you had to look effortless, as if you were born to fit perfectly into this scene.

Luckily, I was referred to a rush coach. We had weekly Zoom calls and she told me what to wear, what to say, and how to act. This made me feel better because I had an actual strategy. At first I thought I was ahead of the game, then I realized almost every girl I knew was doing the exact same thing.

The pressure didn’t end with appearances. You were also expected to drink, experiment with drugs, and keep up with what everyone else was doing socially. Unfortunately, if a girl had declined any of these then she would swiftly be seen as weird. Everything about rush and sorority life rewarded the women who could seamlessly embody the ideal image, while quickly discarding those who could not.

Interestingly enough, the sorority recruitment process starts long before rush week. We had “rush dates,” lunches and coffees where active members quietly decided who they wanted long in advance. By the time recruitment officially started, the pledge classes were mostly picked out. This is referred to as dirty rush. At my school, for the top houses, the majority of the spots were filled about six months before rush even began. When I was an upperclassman, it was common knowledge this was happening. It was technically against the rules and came with hefty fines, yet no one ever put a stop to it.

As a potential new member, rush week itself was exhausting. For five days straight, we woke up at 6:00am to get ready. The girls visited their first house at 8:00am, then rushed several other houses until around 10:00pm. Conversations were so polished, they felt fake. You weren’t allowed to talk about boys, politics, alcohol, or religion. Active members were thoughtfully matched to potential new members based on common interests. Later, as an active member, I learned the ranking scale of potential new members. The truth is, we ranked them according to their appearance and whether they seemed socially compatible with the sorority.

The new girls had heard about sororities through TikTok or Instagram. They thought Greek life seemed aspirational, and wanted to join. However, if older girls didn’t know you, there’s a slim chance of being considered. This led to a lot of upset girls. They went to the houses and had great conversations, but were eliminated from the running because girls who were dirty rushed were prioritized over them. Recruitment is much less inclusive than everyone thought. 

This is how it was presented to me and even though I didn’t agree with it, it was my reality. After rush was over, the pressure still remained. Being in a “top” sorority controls your entire life. If you didn’t join one of the “top” houses, you were automatically labeled as weird. I heard people call it “social suicide.” It had nothing to do with who you were as a person, and everything to do with who vouched for you and how well you fit the image.

Mixers and swaps with the “cool” fraternities were only for the best houses. The most coveted parties of the year were only for the top few sororities. Fraternities would hire private security teams who stood outside with iPads, checking invite lists. If you weren’t on the list, you weren’t getting in. Inside, there was drugs and endless alcohol. People were dressed up in outrageously fun themed outfits. Everyone wanted to be there because it felt like the epicenter of status and popularity.

Compared to fraternities, sororities didn’t haze physically, but the mental toll was heavy. The constant ranking, the unspoken competition, and the pressure to stay looking your best was a lot. Over time, it didn’t even feel worth it. I made friends, but at what cost? I would not have even been friends with some of these girls if I didn’t have the same connections or didn’t look the part.

By the end of sophomore year, I started to see it clearly. We were all just trying to pass the same invisible checklist that had been around for decades. Everyone was polished, prepared, and desperate to prove we belonged. I learned this whole process was about how well we could perform the role. 

While I didn’t have the most amazing experience, that doesn’t mean it’s all bad. I loved the fun events we would have. The most memorable was definitely Bid Day - a huge celebration the day all of the girls received their bids. It’s a great time, and always has a really exciting theme. It’s such a happy and joyful day. I also loved philanthropy events. It was great to host an event, fundraise, and spread awareness for our chapter’s charity partner. 

I did meet a lot of great new people, which I think is typically the main motivation for joining a sorority. It was wonderful to have a built in network of acquaintances, familiar faces, and be a part of something bigger than myself. 

When I finally stepped back, I couldn’t help but wonder: was any of this actually worth it? It wasn’t. It was not worth the anxiety, the competition, the constant pressure to be perfect just to prove I belonged in the right house. As a result of this process, I became a strong and independent woman. I made friends and had fun memories of formals and date parties. This experience was a crucial life lesson for me on who I want to be and how I want to live my life.

Greek Life - Fraternity

*Warning sensitive content. Reader discretion is advised*

When junior year of high school began, I started thinking about colleges. Would I go to UNLV? Vegas, woo! Maybe a west coast school near the beach? Probably not, too expensive. Should I go somewhere in the midwest like Ohio or Indiana? A college town with beautiful women and amazing sports? One day, my father said that if I chose in-state tuition, then I would get a car. Sold! The college I decided on had the highest volume of Greek life in the country. This meant that students were more likely to join a fraternity or sorority than not. This social setting was where I shined. I loved meeting new people, creating memories, playing video games, and just hanging out!

During my senior year of high school, I visited a midwestern college and was invited to some frat parties. At the time I thought, “Oh my gosh, I can’t wait for this!” There’s unlimited alcohol, weed, and pretty girls. The parties, dancing, and music was FREE. The food was great, the town was electric, and the houses were so dirty it was like a movie set. How cool. 

These fraternities would start to recruit people the minute you committed to their college. I was invited to an event near my city to meet these guys and hang out with my buddies. Going to a Major League Baseball game with a group of friends and underage drinking was crazy fun.

When I made it onto campus, it wasn’t a question of if I did or did not join a fraternity. It was more like, which one? The recruitment process is called rush. I just now learned that historically, fraternity members would rush to greet and welcome incoming first-year students to campus, hence RUSH! Rushing was so wild because the older members would take prospective pledges out to the bars and house parties. The discussions weren’t too deep but it was more about having fun and pumping up each other's egos. 

Did I want to join a well known popular group? What about a studious (aka nerdy), or a more religious frat? Did I like the sororities the frats were mixed with? Was the house I would live in historic? Did it have a basketball court? I had so many questions and even more opportunities to have them answered.

In one of the fraternities there was a senior who went to my high school and was like an older brother to me. He preferred to guide me rather than recruit me. I expressed worry that I didn’t want to turn into “the stereotypical mean party frat guy.” In his elder wisdom he said, “You are not like that and there are two types of people.” He continued, “One is the type that changes into the stereotypical frat guy. The other is the guy who changes the frat, you choose.” This was life changing advice.

When he said this, I had flashbacks to when I was a freshman in high school. On a Friday night, I had walked up to an upperclassman party at the playground park near my house. A nice senior welcomed me over. I’ll never forget this, but the guy he was talking to was very drunk. He said, “You know why this guy is the man?” pointing to that same kind senior. “Because he doesn’t need to be drunk or high to have fun. He’s hilarious and enjoys himself sober. That’s what makes him the coolest person here.”

That moment stuck with me. Peer pressure is everywhere, but it showed me I can still have a blast without drinking or drugs. That was a life lesson worth remembering, even when I got to college.

Rush began as super fun. I was meeting new people every day, most from the same residence hall where I lived among a thousand other students. At first it was easy, even comforting, since familiar faces from home were there too. But once choices had to be made, the mood shifted. Friends split, arguments flared, and high school bonds cracked over which house to join. It was chaotic but also strangely funny.

Any night of the week, I would meet people and get invited to these parties. There seemed to be unlimited drugs, drinks, and girls. Crazy contraptions like beer bongs that coiled down a tube through two flights of stairs, three foot glass bongs, and volcano vaporizers, which vaporized marijuana. Nothing seemed negative. No worries, no warning signs, and no trouble. It was pure, unadulterated fun.

At 19 years old, it seemed as if not one person cared about underage drinking. Houses had security, bartenders, and managers running these college bars. We got in easily and we drank heavily. Oftentimes, we stumbled out or were carried out by our friends giggling as we pushed those same friends into the bushes. It was organized chaos. 

Getting wild with your college friends was the best. This was the tradition going back a hundred years where our elders smashed their goblets together, drank their ale, and bashed their mate over the head with a stick and threw them over their shoulder. Well, maybe not that far back, but it was just as primitive at times.

When the decision needed to be made, it was hard for me. I liked three fraternities. One had the reputation for being a little more nerdy and religious. The second was cooler and had more party animals, but had less people from my religion. The third option was a mix of all three. If a fraternity wants you to join, they will bring you into someone’s room and tell you about the greatness of your character. Then you are presented with an invitation to sign. I was lucky to have been awarded a bid to those three houses. I decided that I’d choose the third option, mainly because of that one senior who I just knew would guide me and have my back.

Signing my bid was a huge celebration. I signed my pledge to the United States of Frat. They get a new brother for life. What I would eventually learn is that I was also a new source of revenue and another soldier to haze the crap out of during hell week.

There was something sacred about the house and Greek life in general. There are traditions to abide by. We had to memorize important names and dates from our history. There are class photos year by year hanging with groups of men who are doing exactly as we are doing. We are plugged into a network of individuals who have the same secret handshake (which somehow was the same as two other frats lol). I was really excited for what was ahead.

Once our class of about 50 members was finalized, the hazing began. We had to start at the bottom and prove our worth. Even though we paid our fees. The overtly friendly upper classmen secretly were gearing up to kick our asses mentally, physically, and spiritually. There were a select few leaders that planned and executed the hazing. They were called Pledge Masters and they were the worst of them all. Why? Because it was done to them and now their right to pass it on. Let’s skip to the juicy part.

HELL WEEK. Why is it called hell week? Perhaps because we had to spend most of our days and nights at the fraternity together. We had to swallow a live goldfish one night, drink a gallon of milk and take beer bongs of pickle juice another night. The acid (pickles) and base (milk) is a perfect recipe for stomach issues that lead to throwing up and diarrhea. I remember that night the most. Guys had to get in the trash can that people were puking in and then other people would puke in there at the same time. All while being very intoxicated. It was insane. 

They would throw ice at us while we were blindfolded and then make us do some rehearsed performance like a reenactment of a movie scene and toss pizza and eggs at us while booing our masterpiece. Who cleaned this all up? That was us. There was lots of cleaning. As bad as this seems I find it odd hearing myself say this but it wasn’t terrible. You felt like you wanted to endure nonstop drinking and stupid games with your new mates. We signed up for this and only the strong would survive. The price of admission would surely lead to long lasting friendships, business contacts, and learned lessons.

To end hell week and finally get accepted, we were paddled. Fraternity paddles were once disciplinary tools and became a symbol of educational tradition and turned into a keepsake with letters and designs carved into them. Today, they are commonly used as hazing tools. These strikes were bare bottomed, bright red, black and blue, and oftentimes bloody. This was a badge of honor to see our Greek letters on our friends' tushes. What a strange tradition. 

Over the next two years, my love for the fraternity died down. The two grades above me weren’t as friendly as the seniors that I started with. They were way more into drugs and partying. My sophomore year they asked me to be the rush chair of my fraternity. I told them that I was not interested in doing it. Their response was that I am always looking out for people and fun so I would be good at it. Plus, I’d get my own room in the house. My own room? YES, I would love to be the rush chair! I did my best to recruit cool and kind people into the house and I felt I did a great job with that. I did it my way.

As a senior, it was tradition that the recruits come and clean your house once a week. I wasn’t heavily involved, but still proud to be a member. I would make them play video games, foosball, or ping pong with me instead. The only time we’d make them clean was when we had a big party, but I helped too. I really didn’t care for that part of tradition but was happy they were there and got a break from hazing. Just be nice to everyone, why not?

After college, I’m confident a lot of these guys will stay in my life. While I still remain friends with people in other fraternities, I have special memories with this group. Some are my roommates and best friends. I hope to go to their weddings, share vacations, and live our best lives together. Would I recommend joining a frat? I can only say it is up to YOU. 

Carefully analyze your options and understand there is no wrong decision. Whatever you do is the right call because you can always adjust if needed. Be firm, don’t be afraid that you’ll become one of them. If you have a good head on your shoulders, then make them more like YOU. Each person is unique and special and there is a place for us all. Lastly, shout out to Big Head Bob for letting me write this blog. Please don’t tell my frat about this as I’ve been sworn to secrecy!