North by Northwestern

Opening scene: Harris Hall has been transformed into some twisted, behind-the-scenes beauty pageant, choked with dolled-up girls meeting their “recruitment counselors” (or Rho Chis) before heading over to the Sorority Quad.

I have ridiculous amounts of homework; I can’t see the floor in my room because it’s covered in clothes, books and cereal boxes; and I am feeling deeply inadequate because I didn’t plan out my attire for the next five days and pack individual outfits into labeled Ziploc baggies. Designer zip-lock baggies.

A girl hip-nudges me against a sink so that she can apply another layer of mascara to her orangey, lip-glossed face. You’re not helping yourself, I wanted to tell her. But who knows, maybe she was — who am I to say?

And so recruitment began. Although Rushed practically gave me nightmares, real rush started well. I just had to pretend that I found it pleasant and rewarding to have a never-ending series of rapid-fire, 10-minute conversations with girls whom I had never met before.

It was incredibly draining. Although most conversations were genuinely enjoyable, they were balanced by the few that were awkward, forced or downright ridiculous. (“Umm. Do you have a favorite color?” Seriously. Someone asked me this. And then looked awkwardly at the carpet.) And that’s not even mentioning the hours spent waiting, nervous and frostbitten, in line as the Rho Chis counted down the seconds remaining before we could take off our coats and go inside. Did I mention that they carried stopwatches around their necks for this purpose, as if this was a sporting event or science experiment?

I did enjoy many parts of recruitment. Toward the end of the first night, I was so exhausted that I was blanking on my major and hometown. A friend of mine in one of the chapters literally climbed over a couch to run up, give me a hug and all but jump in my lap. There was something so meaningful and heartwarming about seeing a friendly face during a fatiguing stream of new people.

Even so, an element of superficiality was present. During one set, I mentioned going up to my cabin in the winter, but apparently people from outside the Midwest are under the false impression that “cabin” is code for “fabulous summer home.” The girl I was talking to tilted her chin down, widened her eyes seductively, and asked what my father did for a living. The look she gave me made it clear that I was to respond with a similarly coy smile and mention some CEO position, raising my eyebrows to show that we were in on a big secret. I wanted to pretend that I hadn’t heard the question, and go on to tell her how my decrepit-looking log cabin is heated solely by fireplace, and how I share bunk beds with my brothers; but instead I mumbled something vaguely financial and shrugged the question off.

I felt violated by her question, but a part of me felt compelled to go along with it. I think that this was what bothered me most: the number of times I felt compelled to compromise my integrity. Despite my most valiant efforts to counter this feeling, going through rush made me want to conform: dress and talk a particular way, and fit into some imaginary standard of wealth and glamour.

Luckily, plenty of conversations were far from superficial, and sometimes I really connected with the girl whom I was talking with; we’d find that we had a lot in common, or hit on a topic that we could talk about forever. Some of the best conversations I had were about traveling, the NU ski trip or some silly element of recruitment or sorority life. But if I got cut from that house the next day, I couldn’t help but think of these conversations differently.

And that’s the part of recruitment that sucks: the realization that “mutual selection,” the term of choice for the process, is actually sorority code for them picking who they want back. Seeing friends get cut and, of course, getting cut yourself from houses you may have really liked, is rough no matter how confident you are or how positive your outlook is.

Let me get something straight. I don’t like the Greek system. I think that despite their intentions, both fraternities and sororities have a tendency to bring out the worst in people. Former “nice boys” develop that distinct “fratty” attitude and start treating people differently. Down-to-earth girls get caught up in a maelstrom of superficiality, learning how to “play the game” to get what they think they want. There has to be a better way: the good bits of Greek life without all the negativity that people seem to accept as an inherent part of the system.

At several points I really wanted to drop out. I went as far as signing a release form before changing my mind and realizing that it would be rash to come so far and not finish the process.

But the reason I chose to rush in the first place was because I believed that it could be worth it. I made it by telling myself that it could pay off, no matter how terrible, backward and messed-up it might seem at the time. Sorority membership can be the door to making new friends, opportunities for leadership and involvement, good food and housing, connections to all sorts of student activities, philanthropies and study groups, and that kind of tight-knit group that supports you no matter what. Of course, a lot of this sounds idealized, and it’s hard to separate what’s real from all the propaganda thrown at us. In the end, though, I believe there is a lot of truth in this.

Now, I am so happy that I made the decision to stick it out. Since Bid Night, I have felt less on-the-fence and much more certain about pledging. Now that recruitment has ended and I’m in a chapter, the entire process is more understandable and less frightening. Almost everyone can agree that, to some extent, rush is a terrible ordeal. I have never heard anyone say that it is flawless. Unfortunately, there is no magic sorting hat.

Even so, there is room for improvement. Although there has been much headway, even in the past year, I think that Panhel should continue to make recruitment less miserable and mysterious, and more congruous with the good outcome of the process.

No matter what happens, even if I decide at some point that the time commitment or financial contribution is not worth the benefits of being in a chapter, I will never wonder “what if?” or regret not giving recruitment a fair shot. As of right now, I am very happy in my chapter and believe that, after all, things did work out for the best, even if I couldn’t always see it in the midst of recruitment.