Pledging a Sorority

I think we can agree that each of us tends to judge our world based on our own “normalcy.” I always assumed I was a normal person, raised in a normal family, living a normal existence. Anything or anyone drastically outside of that understanding was “different,” bordering on “odd.”

Most of us probably started out with that perspective as we moved into the world outside our familial bubble. So, when I tell you that I was shocked at age 29 to hear from my sister that our parents were ECCENTRICS and that WE were the oddballs and not our friends… it began changing my perspective on many things.

Decades later, even armed with this knowledge and having fought (with myself) for all that time to adopt a more “normal” worldview, I accept that we can improve and modify how we interact with the world. But, each of us is still the same person who will slip back into that personal spot of normalcy without ever trying.

So, here is my college experience, fitting into a much different social system from my formative years. As comedian Judy Tenuto once said about rushing a sorority, she might have done it, but she already HAD a personality. Yes, I completely related. Maybe my personality was not that of Miss Congeniality, but it was not fake.

Still, even though I was not a “joiner” by nature, I expected being inducted into Sigma Alpha Iota (women’s professional music fraternity) to be different. It was an honor to qualify, based on your GPA in your major in Music. Theoretically, it did not fall under the purview of a Social Sorority.

I cringed at the requirement to physically visit every existing “sister” before initiation. I actually did not fulfill that requirement, but was inducted anyway. I guess they figured I would fulfill that once I was in. Looking back, I was a real piece of work with a gigantic chip on my shoulder. I wonder how I was able to stand up straight under its weight. I’m sure you can still find splinters on the shoulders of my sweaters.

I remember the initiation itself and how it completely creeped me out. I was a 19-year-old Christian, not a Holy Roller or a hellfire and brimstone Christian. I was an Episcopalian who had gone to Sunday School until after Confirmation at age 13, then regular Church attendance. I hadn’t been a member of a youth group other than Girl Scouts, which I left when I was 15. Feeling the hypocrisy of my own religion, I was far from perfect but had already been reading about and trying on different forms of religion and spirituality. The drummer I marched to was that of a true “seeker.”

Now, it’s been more than half a century since this happened so I can’t recite the exact verbiage. But, the whole experience felt demonic to me. We wore white dresses and each held a rose when they led us blindfolded into a windowless, dark room with scant candlelight. We were told we could never reveal anything that transpired, that it was an ancient, secret ritual, and we had to pledge allegiance to the ancient Greek spirits of the organization, which were neither angelic nor Christian. I mouthed the words with my fingers crossed while silently praying to be delivered from punishment for my participation. Perhaps it was just a game to the other young ladies, but to me, it was clearly an activity particularly banned by Christianity as inviting in unknown spirits. I recognized it as a purposefully forced separation from the faith I’d accepted at Confirmation. It was the same uneasy feeling as when “playing” with a Ouija Board.

I knew for a fact that the majority of girls participating in this initiation, either as members or neophytes were Southern Baptists who were ever so much more verbal about their Christianity than I was. And, yet, they seemed to have no problem with this rite. I could not reconcile that knowledge.

Once initiated, we were expected to participate in every meeting or pay a fine for missing. I was taking 22 credit hours, playing in four music ensembles, and working 10 hours per week. The meetings were a meaningless waste of time to me, introducing expected social behaviors that I had no interest in co-opting. I missed most meetings, refused to pay the penalties and when the time came around to pay my annual dues for Year Two, I opted to withdraw altogether. I might be the only person at that campus who ever did so. But, I could not get past what I’d experienced. It felt like selling my soul for absolutely nothing of value.

Years later I was approached by a former classmate who pledged the same night I did. She was on the faculty of Liberty University and was trying to start a chapter there. She wanted me to be a co-sponsor. When I declined, I reminded her that I had withdrawn while we were still students. I didn’t try to detail my reasons. I was certain they would sound completely alien to her.

I have dear friends who tell me how much they enjoyed sorority life during their college years and I can understand the thrill, fun, and friendships they derived from it. I wonder if I’m the only person strange enough to take these things so seriously.