North by Northwestern

I was never going to be a sorority girl. Ever.

When I visited Northwestern in high school and heard about its Greek system, I had no interest. All of Fall Quarter: no interest. And then came Thanksgiving Break.

Catching up with my mother, we stumbled upon the topic of sororities. She asked me if I was going to rush, and I resoundingly responded, “No!” Eventually, she convinced me to at least “see what it’s like” and used the “you might regret it” argument. So I agreed. And, hey, it wasn’t my $35.

Set One had me practically shaking in my boots as I found myself succumbing to the “Will they like me?” hysteria that I had so fervently avoided. As I stood outside the first house, I didn’t even know how to deal with my life. While the recruitment counselors counted down the seconds until the doors opened, I just stood there, waiting.

The first house I visited was fantastic. I mean, who doesn’t love free pretzels? After about a minute and a half of conversation with one of the girls, I forgot to worry whether or not they liked me, and started to enjoy myself. Although the conversations didn’t get much deeper than my major and my general interests, I felt better. Over the next two days, I visited houses where I felt really good, and ones where I knew I would never fit.

Set Two was more formal. I ended up wearing a dress and tights — not the smartest idea in 30-degree weather, but that was hardly my biggest faux pas. During a party, I spilled hot tea all over myself. Classy. That day had been stressful, but the tea incident showed me that the sisters weren’t different from anyone else: They laughed with me and made sure I wasn’t hurt. (Only my pride.)

By Sunday, I had my eye on a specific chapter but didn’t want to get my hopes up. I had seen my friends get cut from chapters they loved, and get invited back to ones they didn’t think they could be a part of. Set Three is the most informal day of recruitment, and all of the chapters put on skits. I went back to five houses that day, and had a difficult decision to make that night.

Rush consumed all of my free thoughts. I could barely concentrate in class on Monday because I was so nervous about where I would be invited for Preference Night. When my RC gave me my slip of paper, I almost cried for joy; my favorite chapters were listed. I kept telling myself that I was being ridiculous and that I shouldn’t be this attached to such an outdated institution.

That thought changed when I arrived at the first Pref party. I was matched up with someone I had talked to on Thursday, and she seemed genuinely excited to see me. She remembered my name and the details of our conversation. We had dessert and chatted away.

At the end of each party, members spoke about their experiences in their chapter. Before I even pledged, I was sure: the love that these remarkable women showed to each other was enough to convince me.

That’s not to say that I didn’t worry all night about it. I changed my mind over and over again until my head was a giant fish bowl of Greek letters. I slept through lunch on Tuesday because I wanted Bid Night to arrive more quickly. When all of my friends went to dinner, I couldn’t bring myself to go. I was utterly nauseated from nerves.

We had to sit on our bids. As the Panhel representative counted down from five, I thought I might die. When I finally opened my bid envelope and saw my first-choice chapter’s name on the card, I cried.

I know it’s completely melodramatic, but I knew that I belonged with these remarkable women I now can call my sisters. The house is always open to me; their hearts, even more so. I’m so glad that I joined my chapter, and now I can even say it:

I am a sorority girl.