If The Shoe Doesn’t Fit, Don’t Wear it.

“You don’t know shit girl, you’re just a dumbass sorority chic who has no priorities in life but partying and drinking.” That’s me he’s referring to, the dumbass sorority chic. I stare angrily at him, judging the large, obnoxious football player in front of me. I should have never started discussing overall grade point averages. I shot a comment at him about being a stupid jock, not thinking twice about it. I made my way towards the exit as soon as I was referred to as a “dumbass sorority chic,” quite frankly; I am a hell of a lot more than that.

As I enter the Greek Lounge at approximately 8:00 P.M, my usual routine on Wednesday nights, I stress about the things I have listed on my agenda. 8:00-10:00 P.M every Wednesday night; I guess you could say it’s a part of my life. I stare at the fifty three empty chairs that take up the entire lounge; they wait patiently for the rest of my sisters to arrive. I wait with the chairs, wishing I was elsewhere. I would never admit that, of course. These meetings are a ritual, sacred to our beliefs and a staple that defines who we are today. Theta Phi Alpha, which is a national sorority here at Kean University. National meaning, across the country; there are Theta Phi Alpha’s across the United States; it is kind of fascinating when you think about it.  As the clock ticks and the executive board discuss finances, future rules, suspensions, and proper badge attire, I notice my finger latch onto my pen, doodling its way into its very own dream.

Engaged in my favorite movie, my eyes were a magnet to the girl’s shirt on my television. “Where can I get that shirt?” I asked my cousin Gia. “Those are Greek letters stupid.” Gia said to me as I pictured myself in those same exact letters that the girl from House Bunny was wearing. I asked her what Greek letters meant, why Greek? Why not Spanish letters or Italian? “Greek letters represent the sorority girls are in, you don’t want to be in one of those, there a bunch of dumb sluts who pay for their friends.” I ignored her. How would she know anyway? I mean, she is only fifteen years old, exactly one year and twenty eight days older than me. She is only a sophomore in high school, how would she know what college sorority life was like?

Each member in my sorority strolled through the door with their closest friends, sitting in the empty seats that have been waiting for them since 8:00 P.M. Finally, the meeting began. As each sister went through her agenda, I noticed and felt the rash on my finger begin to act up again. The doctor said this should only happen when I start to feel a wave of stress. I am always stressed, so what does that matter? “October 19^th is Homecoming, so be there at 7:30 A.M to help set up our table and practice our song; judges will be at our table by 11: 00 A.M.” Lauren, the head of our homecoming events, said sternly, making it clear that it was crucial we were there on time. “October 20^th we need to be at the Autism Walk at 11:00 A.M for registration, and October 26^th is the Lymphoma Walk in Morristown at 5:00 P.M, and October 27^th is the Breast Cancer walk at 10:00 A.M in Edison,” our philanthropy chair reiterated. Philanthropy is a specific charity one chooses to donate to, in our case, we enjoy group walks. As I wrote all of my upcoming events down in my agenda I noticed the tip of my fingers losing their firm grip. We have not even gone through half of everyone’s positions, am I going to have time to breathe this week? My brain joined my pen, and began to lose focus.

“I got accepted for a Bid into Θ ΦA!” Brianna, my best friend said to me. Meanwhile, I’m away at Bloomsburg University in Pennsylvania, a lonely, eighteen year old, freshman, wishing I was at home with my best friend. But, what were those letters and symbols in that text message. I thought about House Bunny, and the hot, fluorescent pink letters on the girls’ shirts, but those weren’t it; maybe these were letters from another specific background, like secret code Asian letters or something. “Theta Phi Alpha is a sorority on campus, it is the best one and I am going to be a part of it!” Brianna explained further what she was joining, and I was wrong, it wasn’t a secret code for Asian letters, it was a sorority, Greek letters, the letters I had always wanted. I wanted to have fun and wear those letters. I didn’t know whether I was extremely happy for my best friend, or just jealous that I could not wear those shirts.

I glance over to my left and watch Brianna doze off. Poor girl, she works every day, takes eighteen credits, and still devotes all of her free time to this sorority. And one by one, each sister shoots out more dates for us to write in our agendas. Not even noticing that half of the girls are wearing the same letters; matching, representing what family line she falls under in our sorority. Meanwhile, I forgot to wear letters today, hopefully no one would notice. I mean, I am a senior, trying to graduate in May. My mind runs nonstop throughout the day, how could everyone expect me to attend all of these events, fundraise, receive dean’s list, and work thirty hours a week?

“Kris, if you are that unhappy at school, transfer home to Kean, and join my sorority, everyone will love you and you will never be happier.” Brianna said to me as I continuously cried to her about how homesick I was away at Bloomsburg. I thought about it that night and woke up feeling like I was on cloud nine. That is it. I am transferring home and joining that sorority, Theta Alpha something, whatever I didn’t care. I was going to wear those shirts, just like the girls in House Bunny. Yes, that was going to be me, living in a house and partying on frat row, just what I had always hoped for. Me and all of the letters I could possibly imagine.

As our meeting approaches the end, I look over at my little, Samm. “Littles,” in sorority terms is similar to a little sister through actual blood. But “Littles” in sorority terms are treated like our children. It’s complicated. Samm is a sophomore, without a position, living life to the fullest. She is having the best time of her life and has minimal distractions. She wears her letters proud and as often as possible. I would do anything to go back in time to her age.

Finally, I was accepted into my sorority. The only thing I was concerned about were those letters on that shirt I saw in House Bunny. I wanted my OWN letters, and that was final. I made sure that was my first completed task after finally being accepted in.  Hundreds, and probably thousands of dollars later, I had enough letters to wear once, every day of the month. I was told I had the most letters of any girl in the entire sorority. That’s me, “Krissy-Girl,” the one with the most letters, and usually the silliest sister in the bunch. What else mattered?

Collecting myself together at the end of my meeting, I stop and laugh at my attention span during the last two hours. I am a senior, and one of the top six leaders on the executive board of my sorority. Things are not as easy as the girl in House Bunny said they would be. Although, she never really said much, she just bounced around with her blonde hair, looking pretty as she did kegs stands in her hot pink florescent Greek letters, what a joke.

A dumbass sorority chick that has no priorities in life. Damn. Is that what people see? Don’t they know what we do throughout the week? Months? Years? I paused as reality hit me like an eighteen wheeler as I left the football house. Letters. That’s all I cared about at first, which is all I saw. How could I be mad at him for what he said? In reality, he saw more than I ever did before joining my sorority. However, what he said was not true, and extremely rude. How would he know the truth of something he was not a part of? I walked away from my friends; I needed a moment to collect myself.

Right before Ashley concludes the meeting; my mind takes a snap shot of what is in front of me. Me, the recruitment chair, next to the President, Vice- President, Treasurer, Secretary, and New Member Educator; sitting at the head of the meeting. Fifty three girls down the rows, wrapped around the room, all valuable, unique members.  There are some blondes, brunettes, blacks, whites, Spanish, Asian; a bunch of puzzle piece that create one big picture. A sorority, filled with different voices, opinions, and ideas; all formed together as one, trying to make a difference and be the best we possibly can be. How could anyone stereo type a sorority? I look down at my phone and see four text messages from my boyfriend. I don’t know how many times I have to tell him I cannot text during my meetings. But what does he know about sorority meetings, his baseball meetings can’t possibly be half as serious as this.

“Are you sure I can have these?” My little says to me as I hand her a pile of my old letters.

“Yeah, I don’t need those anymore I have too many and I barely wear them.”

Without putting up an argument, she grabbed a shirt stuffed in the back of my closet, “Can I have these?” She asked as she began to stuff my hot pink florescent letters into her bag.

“Uh… no, not those,” I responded while slowly pulling my letters away from her, picturing the girl in House Bunny. There are some things that I cannot let go of.

I gathered my belongings and began the dreadful walk to my car, which was parked in the farthest lot possible.  I think to myself and try to summarize everything that just went on during that meeting: philanthropies’, fundraisers, sisterhood events, so many things to do, but valuable and productive enough to dedicate my time to. I may dread things at times, but who doesn’t dread things that make up who you are, like school and work; everything holds a special purpose.  Assembling my thoughts, I picture that football player, the one that knows nothings about Greek life because he is not a part of it. How dare he say that about me, about my sorority, about my sisters? He doesn’t know what being part of a sorority means at all. How could people like him make comments about sororities when they don’t even know half of what really goes on anyway. After all, he’s just a stupid jock who only cares about himself and his own ego, right? Clearly, we will always be surrounded by stereotypes.