As a second semester freshman, I didn’t rush a sorority. I didn’t really see it as my sort of thing, nor was I all that interested. So until this week, I knew very little about frats and sororities and their complex systems of initiation. When my roommate decided to rush, however, I was extremely excited for her and found myself suddenly inundated with details throughout the week.
I’ll make this much clear: the bonds of sisterhood and all that sounds really cool; sororities just aren’t for everyone. They’re a great way to make friends (after telling my roommate that she isn’t allowed to replace me), and they are, as I’ve recently discovered, excellent resources for a multitude of things, including academics. And even while I write this, my roommate is listing off all of the pros of joining in an effort to convince me to rush next year. Rush Week has been insane. And that’s just as someone laying on her bed, looking up every few minutes to critique/compliment a new outfit and makeup. It’s been quite a trip.
From my perspective, my roommate suddenly started dressing very nicely, taking bold steps away from her fuzzy pajama pants to decidedly more formal dresses and skirts. I’m not quite sure how cultish the behind-the-scenes looks, but she’s come back from her late-night escapades glowing with satisfaction and excitement, talking a mile a minute about everything. I can honestly, and probably pathetically, still say that I can only name two sororities after all of this, and I haven’t the slightest idea just how many there are at Tufts.
There has been some loud shrieking on campus—and I’m excited for all who made it into the sororities of their choice. The main cause for excitement, however, has been my roommate’s acceptance into her top choice. I’ve very suddenly become a proud mother celebrating her only child’s acceptance into the school of their dreams. From her perspective, I’m sure (but not very) that it’s a much more moderate excitement.
At the end of the day on Sunday, I came back to a large glittery sign on my door. I can’t pretend to be excited by that part. There is glitter everywhere (and by “everywhere,” I mean to exaggerate the three or four inches in front of my door). And despite the joking policy I have with my roommate of “no new friends”—a policy rooted in a deep laziness and unwillingness to leave our room and go outside on most days—I am more than ready to meet her new sorority sisters and befriend them.
So despite this article being about Rush Week from the outside, I do think that Greek life is a great opportunity for a variety of people looking for a close-knit community. I’ve gotten to experience it more than I expected, and I’m proud of my roommate—who is like a sister to me—for managing to go out and do things nightly all week in an effort to have these cool experiences with people that are now strangers, but may soon mean much more to her in a just a few short weeks.