Much like half of the sophomore class, I had been waiting anxiously for recruitment since I got to Muhlenberg. Although Greek members make up only 20% of the student body, the opportunity to join a Greek organization was always a shining sliver of hope for my social life. After making lifelong bonds at summer camp I figured Greek Life would be much of the same. A group of likeminded women joining together to hopefully make up a sisterhood. Before recruitment I admittedly was over confident. I worried that my biggest issue with recruitment would be choosing between my two sororities of choice. This couldn’t have been farther from the truth; I am writing to you on bid day as I sit in a hospital waiting room.
As you probably can gather, recruitment was nothing like I thought it would be. During recruitment I tried to keep an open mind but as soon as I walked into the room I immediately felt at home with my sorority of choice. The conversations seemed to flow effortlessly as I had so much in common with the sisters. Their philanthropy is a true passion of mine and I was already planning my future in this Greek organization. Well, the next day when we got the slips of paper stating which organizations invited us back for night two, the home I felt I had already made for myself was not on my list. In fact only one sorority was. All of the girls around me had full schedules for the night. As I looked around the room I wondered what I had done wrong.
I had described it as “girl flirting,” the process of impressing the esteemed women who got to choose your fate in their organization. Girl flirting lies somewhere between a job interview and a first date. The nerves in my stomach certainly felt like I was going on a first date. I researched what to say what to ask and even what to wear while at the same time trying to be my most authentic self. I tried to wow them with my previous charitable involvements and my genuine interest for their personal lives. However I had failed, while everyone around me had succeeded.
This experience has reminded me that although I am unique, so is everyone else around me. It takes a special type of girl to catch the eye of a sorority and I honestly don’t know why I don’t fit the bill. I feel like a little fish in a big pond full of other beautiful talented and better fish. I wonder if I am the only college kid who has felt this way.
As someone who suffers from both mental and physical disabilities, I was already not at my best and my mother was on campus to take me to the doctor that morning. Upon seeing I didn’t get an invitation to my choice sorority I decided the strenuous process of continuing recruitment with a sorority that did not feel like home to me did not outweigh the benefits of going home with my mother and receiving the medial treatments I needed. This brings me to where I am now, the hospital waiting room. Surrounded by old people in the bone marrow transplant wing, a much different crowd than if I had stayed at school and was preparing to (hopefully) receive a bid. Instead, I obsessively check my email hoping I will get my bid while the doctors stick and poke me with needles and ll me with uids.
P.S. As I go to send this article to my editor I get the fateful email that I did not receive a bid.
