Yes, I am a sorority house, not something that you would say was dignified or even functional.
The girls who live here began as pledges. To become a member a pledge has to humiliate herself and totally become the group mentality.
I have found my life to be a creepy one.
I am sure that when a mom and dad hold that little baby girl for the first time they aren’t imagining her selling her soul and individuality for a whole semester in hopes of fitting in.
Some girls don’t make it past the first week. That is good those are the girls they show mercy on.
The girls who move in are the cream. It is a small house and not everyone can live here even though they are Sisters.
I’ve seen year after year, pledges assembling out front to have oatmeal and manure globbed over their heads. I’ve seen them frantically waiting for the hour to change on the days they have to walk backward on the odd hours. It is sad to see the girl who walks down the sidewalk between classes as the clock strikes three and she has to pirouette with her books in arms.
Never mind the nonsense about the Greek alphabet. The things they memorize by rote.
The girls also do good things.
During the weeks when there are no pledges the girls do work in the community. They raise funds for hungry people. They also spent a semester raising money to buy gym memberships for the people who needed to use the local food bank. Who would have ever thought to nurture them in such a way?
I suppose the good parts of being a sorority are consolation for the humiliation they go through, simply to belong.
I still don’t think that this is the way I would want any girl of mine to socialize. I guess it could be worse, they could be worse.
I didn’t choose this life as a sorority house, but I am stuck with it and might as well make the most of it. I could choose to doze off during the pledging seasons. That really sounds like a good idea. I think I’ll just settle in for a long winter’s nap.
sorority house