“Woman of color to woman of color, what is it like to be in a sorority?”
“Pause,” I said.
It was the hundredth time Anamika and I had practiced Sisterhood Day of sorority recruitment. She was role-playing a potential new member, or PNM, and I was supposed to be the active recruiter taking her on a mock house tour. I had prepared answers to every question I could possibly be asked during the tour — from when my sorority house was built (1905), to which room was my favorite (201) and what the best meal was (shrimp scampi).
But I definitely wasn’t prepared to be asked that. I had no immediate answer. What was it like?
“I actually don’t know how to answer that,” I admitted defeatedly as I kicked off my heels. “I hope a PNM doesn’t ask me that because I’m going to sell.”
The truth was, there was no casual way to answer that question. How could I explain how much I love being in my sorority while also being transparent and acknowledging how flawed the recruitment system and Greek life as a whole still are?
How do I feel about being a woman of color within a system that is inherently exclusive and primarily white? Am I complicit for actively partaking in a system of houses that are ranked and rewarded based on their attractiveness by fraternities? What about the fact that this concept of attractiveness is based on Eurocentric beauty standards — or that skinny, blonde white girls dominate the top-ranked sororities?
What exactly had I been thinking when I went through recruitment a year before? I knew I wanted to make more friends, but I wasn’t sure what that would entail beyond what I saw online: access to frat parties, drinking and taking cute pictures. I started to wonder what exactly had drawn me to my sorority.
As surface-level as this sounds, the first thing that drew me to my sorority was its Instagram. After doing some “research” — or stalking — I learned that the recruitment chair was half Asian. She looked like me. I had always perceived sorority girls as white, blonde and Southern. Being Korean and Mexican and from San Francisco, I had never imagined myself fitting into Greek life, much less wanting to be in it. All of a sudden, I could picture myself in a sorority, and a week later, what I had imagined came true.
I ran home on Bid Day, attended new member and chapter meetings, ate yummy meals at the house and dressed up for themed formals. I was overwhelmed but thrilled to be a part of a sisterhood.
But even on a progressive campus such as UC Berkeley and in a sorority that prides itself on diversity and inclusion, superficial and racist remarks are constant reminders of Greek life’s exclusivity. Moments such as two Asian girls who don’t look remotely alike being mixed up repeatedly and hearing that my sorority’s Instagram account would look better if we featured more blondes made me question if I fully belonged. The more of these comments I heard, the more aware I became of the pressure to conform to an ideal I knew was out of reach — that of a stereotypical sorority girl I had always pictured.
But these instances haven’t defined Greek life for me. When I think of my sorority, I think about endless study sessions at Edmonds’, Friday morning debriefs, trying passion fruit for the first time and the joy of trolling my friends. I think about the warmth I felt when my best friend made me a matcha latte after I had the worst day and how hard we laughed when we missed 100% of the shots we took playing basketball during work week.
I used to believe that because Greek life was made for and by white people, I couldn’t fully embrace it without relinquishing a part of myself, and even if I did, would I ever really belong? I wondered if I was supposed to be embarrassed to admit that I enjoy being a part of Greek life, which, at the end of the day, is a system that perpetuates racism and classism through its recruitment practices.
But finding friends who are experiencing Greek life through the same lens as me and becoming infinitely closer with them challenged me to think deeper about what it means to be a sorority girl as a woman of color. The more time I spent with my friends, the more I was able to let go of what I thought a “sorority girl” was supposed to be, and the more I began to understand my belonging in my sisterhood and in Greek life as a whole.
When Anamika asked me that question, I thought back to what first drew me to my sorority: a girl who looked like me. But what made me stay?
I know I can walk through the doors and instantly feel at home, even if I had a terrible day. I know I can tell my friends anything, and it’ll either become an inside joke we’ll drag or a long conversation I’ll think about for a while.
The frustration and exclusion I sometimes feel in Greek life can coexist with something just as strong: the fact that I did find a home away from home to grow as a person and friendships that will hopefully last a lifetime. I love the memories I’ve made in my sisterhood, and because of that, I know that it has the potential to be more inclusive. My appreciation and desire for change aren’t mutually exclusive. I can love my sorority deeply and, because of that, still know that it can be better.