By Arianna Savino
“I told my mom you joined that sorority! She thought it was funny” said my friend after bid day. Feeling uneasy, I smiled it off out of confusion: Why was it funny? It is apparent that I do not fit the aesthetic consisting of being white and blonde. Yet, I entered sorority recruitment with ideas of community, sisterhood, and inclusion. So, why was it funny?
As I fostered relationships with my new sorority sisters, I noticed they were all of the same ethnic background; one that I lacked. Initially, I saw no issue with this, as it never caused an ordeal. With about four or five other girls who come from a minority background, the others never made us feel excluded intentionally. However, when communicating with them, I found myself acting differently, barricading my authentic self. I would talk with their “accent”, which nearly reflected the ‘typical’ sorority girl. I tend to be a loud socialite, mirroring the tendencies found at a family gathering in my Hispanic household. As I stepped foot into my sorority house, I felt these traits wash off me, although it is something I take great pride in. I somehow allowed this internal transformation, turning myself into something I am surely not. Embracing the comfort I find by standing isolated against a wall, I questioned why I am such an introvert behind these doors... this is not who I am. With those I am comfortable with, I am always the most vocal, lively and essentially, the life of the party. My closest friends would describe me as confident and loud. On the other hand, some of my sorority sisters may not even know my name due to my habit of becoming invisible: I do not fit in.
With my close-knit friend group at home, we all talk, dress, and act the same, to the point outsiders often confuse us with each other. College is different. Rather than seeing myself in others, I gradually begin to see them in me. I will often alter my personality to fit the “mold,” and being in a sorority is no exception. With ongoing pressure to suit a certain image of the house, it seems though everyone easily assimilates into it. On the other hand, that image does not appear so effortless within me. I understand being encouraged to behave a certain way; classy and wholehearted, manifesting what the chapter represents. These values resonate deeply within me, which is a common interest I have with my sisters. However, I face adversity when they speak and relate to each other’s shared upbringing that they’ll easily refer to as a “universal experience” ... it most certainly is not. For generations, their linage boasted their participation of Greek life, with mothers and grandmothers passing down guidance. Meanwhile, my Hispanic mother struggled to pronounce the letters of my sorority, and my grandmother did not even know what a sorority or fraternity was.
Some would say I am a “black sheep” because I do not portray the standard of my house, which is not incorrect. Yet, I’d cease that close minded idea. Greek life is typically negatively portrayed in the media, which I understand. Being in a sorority consists of an emotional whirlwind; competition, conformity, and codependency. These are already hard to achieve, yet when you are a “black sheep,” it is even harder. Nonetheless, there is an existing backbone that is vastly present and prominent. Throughout recruitment and shortly after, I was repeatedly told to “trust the process”, so that is what I did. I truly am content that I listened. Not for the social aspect or Greek letters sewed on a sweater, but to see growth within myself. In due time, I learned to showcase my most frank, genuine self without fear of judgement. Proudly, I am a dark-haired, olive-skinned Latina. These traits are utterly who I am, which no one can rob me of, not even myself.
As I further my relationship with Greek life, I would encourage any young woman, regardless of race, to pursue recruitment. Even if you do not fit the standard, you will learn how to love yourself regardless, which is the most valuable thing one can learn.
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