The first 3 years in the Greek system were wonderful. Like so many, I met the closest
friends I’d ever had, went to a lot of fun parties, and networked with so many of the campus’ most
talented and well-known leaders. The Greek system allowed me to seize many of the opportunities
I was given in my first years at UCI, whether it was through the people I knew or the skills I
learned. I became entrenched in the system and much of my identity was based on my status as a
Greek collegiate. I held so much pride in that role.
And then came my senior year.
I realized I was bored with the routine and wasn’t so keen on being forced to give up so
much of my precious free time. I realized the parties weren’t as fun and exciting as they had once
been 3 years ago, and the same applied to the frat boys I met in general. I could no longer have the
impact I wanted; positions I had previously held or been interested in were now rightly filled by
younger girls who deserved and needed the experience. My sisters still rocked my world (and
always will). The bond I felt with these women, the beautiful similarities we shared through
striking diversity still left me in awe in those rare, delicate moments of true sisterhood. But I
began to question myself.
Why was I there? Was I there out of the obligation to my sisters or because I truly would
choose to be there on my own? Was I there because I felt guilty if I left a system that gave me so
much and was my community? Was I there because I felt guilty to my stepmom who had
encouraged me to pursue the Greek system because it was her one regret after college? What
about all the money she invested for me to do this? Was I there for belonging and security in
numbers? Was I there only because I was too afraid to leave? How would people treat me if I left?
Would I find out that everything I had built my friendships and myself to be were actually lies?
Would I ever be in that one interview where I was hired because I was Greek? Would I be able to
make a legitimate career for myself if I shed an identity I always associated with success and
influential power? Most importantly, if I stayed… would I be able to come out of fall’s formal
recruitment alive?
I was at internal war with myself. I’ve always lived my life by the motto that I must do the
one thing I think I cannot do. For the first time ever, I didn’t know what was harder: staying or
leaving. Like most painful break ups, I decided I needed to answer these questions for myself,
without anyone’s judgment or influence in my mind.
My first realization was that my attendance points and outstanding creativity for inventing
elaborate meeting excuses revealed a truth I was reluctant to admit to myself. I probably didn’t
want to be there, if I was ever given the choice. I felt inexplicably guilty all the time: if I was doing
too much I was MIA and if I was doing too little, I was partying too much or I was a grandma.
If I was there for belonging, I felt that would be the ultimate disappointment because
my truest self has always been an outcast and an outsider. I always had trouble fitting in while
being myself, my chapter always knew this because I refused to fake smile and sing cheerfully
for no reason for hours on end during recruitment practice and I generally appreciated our
sports games more than I appreciated our ritual. I believed in heretical ideas like: a sorority is
not an investment; the longer you stay involved in a sorority as you age the lamer you become.
I wondered if my sense that I was unusual in the group and my dedication to thinking for
myself would permanently prevent me from connecting to this ultimate nirvana moment of real
sisterhood that the elder alumnae had described to me.
As an aspiring entrepreneur, I decided to evaluate the organization through my favorite
lens: as a business. In my 3 years, the amount of dues I paid for the number of new friends I
networked with (based on Facebook data) equated to about $6 per new Greek acquaintance, both male and female. I realized this to be a painfully crude way to look at my Greek experience, but
also found it to be a shocking number. I concluded my recruitment efforts equated to at least one
solid member who joined because of me. This meant around $3,000-$4,000 income, depending
on if she stayed all 4 years, for the organization due to my efforts. For someone who absolutely
despised recruitment with the whole of my being, I thought this was a staggering number,
especially considering the perfectly manicured, peppy, outstanding women who love recruitment
and contribute far more members and income generation for chapters than I could dream to.
I wondered if these women considered how much more realistic and successful they could be
if they escaped the sorority norms that value appearance on the same level as character and
personal accomplishment.
I began to think of Zappos, one of the most highly regarded and successful businesses
today, and their controversial offer to give $3,000 to potential employees in training if they
choose to quit. The strategy is to weed out those who feel uncomfortable and strange about the
company’s strong culture and beliefs by incentivizing quitting. The result is employees who have
an outstanding dedication to the company’s culture and beliefs to rationalize and justify their
$3,000 loss. It’s a brilliant psychological mind game and I realized dues in the Greek system were
essentially the exact same ploy except the other way around. You pay into the system and your
dedication grows. Why are new member fees so ridiculously high exactly? Surely new members
could pay for “nationals fees” throughout their membership.
I thought how other organizations, like gangs and cults, use the same psychological ploys
of fear, loss, and alienation to keep members. I realized people don’t ever question individuals’
decision to quit gangs or cults, so I wondered what the difference could be. Although there is a
stereotype of partying, I think Greek life is highly regarded and ingrained in American culture.
The phenomenon doesn’t stick in other cultures, as these organizations have been around for
hundreds of years now and have not expanded internationally despite huge trends of globalization
(with the exception that a select few have spread to arguably culturally identical Canada and oddly
the Philippines).
I always felt like Greek organizations and the system in general propagated harmful gender
and race inequalities and stereotypes, as they are some of the last remaining organizations in
America that can discriminate based on race and gender. As an example, I understand there may
be a difference between brotherhood and sisterhood, but why can’t fraternities and sororities
be compared to each other and compete against each other at Greek Awards? Why are those
awards separated by gender? Why do fraternities get away with not supporting other fraternity
philanthropies while sororities are expected to care about everyone in the Greek system? I
wondered if these harmful stereotypes and inequalities that seem to perpetuate in American
society were born out of a competitive, divisive, and exclusive Greek system that we’ve valued
nationally for so long.
In the end, I did deactivate, resign… or my personal favorite, “quit” the Greek system.
I realized that when it came down to just me, it was just not for me. Part of me did it for all
the Greeks I knew who had always considered it, but never went through with it. Part of me
did it for the mature, levelheaded perspective and reflection I felt I owed myself after joining,
unquestionably, as a freshman. Part of me did it because I really enjoy making my life extremely
difficult on myself, everyday.
If I can tell you one thing for sure, none of me did it because of any individuals. None of
me did it because I actually wanted to separate myself from the organization and it’s beliefs. I
will still scream my chapter’s domination from rooftops and it will stay with me until I die. I feel
inexplicably grateful for the opportunity to have felt the bond of sisterhood because I am an only
child and because I experienced its true nature, I know that my real sisters across Panhellenic will be here for me whether or not I pay membership fees to the organization I pledged.
Unfortunately, I did have to realize that some Greeks’ conception of sisterhood revolves
around retaining membership. This is a huge disappointment and flaw in the system in my
opinion. It’s my experience that all Greeks consider deactivation once, twice, or more in their
collegiate years, and if you look closely at those who go through with it, most of them are
individuals with a real sense of purpose, a confident independence from norms, and a silent aura
of triumph over peers’ expectations. This is because we, as deactivated members, are still what
Greeks have been all along: successful. Our success is not determined by our letters, but instead
by the common values of integrity, achievement, and community service we all share. If the Greek
system taught me one thing, it’s that success is who you are, not what you do.
Now as a third party observer, I have enjoyed choosing my own wardrobe for all of
Welcome Week, taking luxurious Monday night naps, and feeling petrifying alienation and
loneliness this year. I’ve gained the rare perspective I was out to achieve and I hope that it will
eventually provide an engaging dialogue about improvements within the Greek system and more
thoughtful consideration outside of it. I’ve realized that one of the most valuable experiences
anyone can hope to achieve is a new perspective and I can only hope to inspire others in their
pursuit.