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Authors: Alexandra Robbins

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BOOK: Pledged
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When the Alpha Rhos walk one by one into the chapter room for a meeting, they are greeted at the door by the sister elected chaplain. To greet the chaplain, they have to place their right hand on the chaplain’s left shoulder and say the sorority’s secret word. The chaplain does the same and lets them pass. At “Meeting,” the Alpha Rhos sit in straight-backed chairs, ordered alphabetically and by pledge class, so that the girls with the most seniority sit in the front of the room. The president conducts the opening ceremony, which is intended to remind the sisters of their values. She reads a passage from an Alpha Rho ritual book and the sisters read their response. At the end of the meeting, after the vice presidents and committee chairs have given their reports, the president conducts the closing ceremony ritual, consisting of another reading and the Alpha Rho secret handshake.

Some sororities run chapter meetings like a cross between strict business meetings and etiquette school. In some chapters, Kappa Deltas are not allowed to cross their legs at formal meetings—it is considered “unladylike”—unless they cross at their ankles. Before events in these houses, the Kappa Delta Vice President of Standards goes over proper etiquette and prayer with the girls to make sure they handle themselves with grace. (“One thing we were always reminded of was that we don’t bite our bread. We tear pieces off and butter each piece individually,” a Kappa Delta said.)

Chapter meeting—particularly the formal meeting—is one of the times when the sororities are most likely to perform secret rituals. One common custom, which is practiced at both State U and Brooke’s school, is known as the “candlelight,” a ceremony held when a sister plans to announce that she has been lavaliered (asked to be a girlfriend), pinned (pre-engaged), or engaged. The sister puts an anonymous note in the president’s mailbox to request a candlelight at the next meeting. When the president announces the ceremony at the meeting, the sisters hold hands and form a circle. As the president lights a candle and passes it around the circle, the sisters sing their sorority’s specific candlelight song. Details vary by house, but usually if the sister blows out the candle on its first trip around the circle, she is lavaliered, if it’s the second trip, she’s pinned, and the third means she is engaged.

A southern Kappa Kappa Gamma alumna who graduated recently recalled her chapter’s candlelight ceremony wistfully. “It was my dream to have one, but it didn’t come true,” she said. “But I still sing the candlelight song all the time.” As the girls passed around the candle, they would sing:

I found my man, he’s a Kappa man,

He’s my sweetheart forever more.

I’ll leave him never, I’ll follow wherever he goes.

“Then the girl showed her engagement ring to everyone and we all oohed and aahed and someone gave her flowers,” the Kappa told me. “It was a way to announce your engagement. I remember being extremely jealous.”

Attendance at chapter meetings is mandatory and girls are often fined for absences. At some schools, one girl said, “If you had to miss a meeting for class, you had to get a note from your professor. You’re a senior, you’re twenty-two, and you still have to get a note from the teacher.” A former teaching assistant at State U told me that when she held labs on Tuesday nights—chapter meeting night—the sorority girls in her class wouldn’t attend. One day she took the sorority sisters aside and told them that lab attendance was mandatory for her class. “We can’t miss chapter,” they said. “It’s mandatory.” The TA informed her students that if they continued to miss labs, they would fail the lab section of her class. She was disgusted to see the girls’ seats empty over the following weeks; the girls chose to take Fs for their labs rather than miss chapter meetings.

Not all meetings, however, consistently follow a formal procedure. I sat in on an executive board meeting at a sorority at a large East Coast campus. (I could not attend executive board meetings at State U without the Alpha Rhos and Beta Pis becoming suspicious of my presence because I was not a sorority officer.)

The sorority adviser and several chapter officers lounged on couches and on the floor of the chapter room. The sisters, thin and beautiful, all wore tight sweatpants, tank tops, and straight, sleek ponytails. I watched in amusement as Emmy and Justine, two of the officers, grew increasingly frolicsome on a couch in the corner.

After discussing the situation of a sister who refused to pay her dues, the adviser informed the officers that the chapter was in financial trouble.

The president looked around at the room. “We can’t rely solely on our dues for money. We do philanthropy for other people. I think we should start doing fund-raisers for ourselves.” The other sisters nodded.

Meanwhile, Emmy and Justine were busy hitting each other with couch pillows. Justine slouched on the couch pulling her eyelids with her index fingers so that only the whites of her eyes showed. “Justine, ew!” one of the sisters cried.

“That’s disgusting,” Emmy said, bopping her with a pillow. “Will you put your eyeballs back in already?”

The president steered the conversation back to the chapter’s lagging finances. “It’s because we lost a lot of girls last year and didn’t make it up,” she said.

“Well, there’s another girl we could get back if she could get reduced dues,” a sister suggested.

“My personal goal for this semester is to do more philanthropy,” the president said.

“World peace!” Justine yelled as the girls dissolved into laughter.

“Cure for cancer!” another sister yelled.

“Well,” the president said, “we were thinking of an all-you-can-eat pasta dinner.”

“Agh,” Emmy yelled. “That’s carbohydrates!” Growing rapidly more hyperactive, she paused while her sisters roared. Then she added, more meekly, “Do we have to
eat
the pasta?”

The adviser looked annoyed. “Can we get back on track? Think sorority. Let’s talk about Preference Night.” Preference Night, the last night of rush, is an event held for a sorority’s top-choice candidates. “We have to make the girls feel really special this year. We have to make them want us.”

“Can we give them gifts?” a sister asked. Emmy stood up, dramatizing with flair: “It is both a privilege and an honor to grant you . . . this new Prada clutch!” Justine doubled over in hysterics, then sniffed her armpits as if checking to make sure that whatever she smelled in the room wasn’t emanating from her.

Emmy noticed what her friend was doing and began sniffing herself.

“We need to e-mail everyone that they need to bring their schedule and unofficial transcript to the chapter meeting,” said the president.

Emmy piped up. “Why do my hands smell like vagina?”

“Because your hands were in your crotch the whole meeting!” Justine squealed. The meeting officially broke up.

“Next time Emmy comes to a meeting,” the adviser muttered to the president, “she needs to take some Valium.”

Afterward, Justine informed me that I had just witnessed a typical executive board meeting in her house.

Double Whammy

OCTOBER 30

AMY’S IM AWAY MESSAGE

playing dress-up is way more fun than studying

THE ALPHA RHO TRIO CHATTED WHILE AMY, IN A SATIN
Victoria’s
Secret robe, and Caitlin, in a baby tee and boxers, got ready for the Mu Zeta Nu Date Party. Sabrina had come over with a chemistry textbook, hoping to get some work done while keeping her sisters company. Amy and Caitlin had tried to find Sabrina a MuNu date, but Sabrina wasn’t all that interested. She had so much work to do—it was easier, she figured, to spend a few hours reading than to waste an entire night without getting any studying done.

Sorority events, even Date Parties, were basically double whammies. There was the event, but also there was the getting-ready-for-the-event, which in itself became an event. For the Alpha Rhos, getting ready usually included a fashion show, pre-game, and several hours’ worth of hair-doing and makeup-applying. Beth, a nonsorority friend of the trio, walked into Amy and Caitlin’s suite lugging a large bag full of hair products and accessories. She wasn’t a professional, but she had voluntarily done so many sisters’ hairstyles for these events that they considered her an expert. She got right to work on Amy, who shook her black curls from the pink towel turban that matched her robe. Beth ran through Amy’s hair with a flatiron and twisted it on top of her head in various ways, holding the hair up with one hand as she stepped back with furrowed brow to judge her work.

Sabrina told the girls she was taking Beth to the following week’s Alpha Rho Date Party because she claimed to have sworn off men. Well, not all men. She had been visiting Professor Stone during his office hours after the creative writing class. At first they had talked about her coursework, but after a few weeks they started discussing broader subjects, such as Greek life and graduate school. Professor Stone listened to her, and even better, he understood her because he had worked hard to rise out of poverty. Professor Stone was one of the few people Sabrina had met who had come from a similar economic background and reached a level of success. She admired him greatly. He had become, to Sabrina, almost like a friend.

Sabrina suddenly realized that she had ten minutes until her study group meeting and she hadn’t prepared. She grabbed her book, shoved it into her bag, and ran out the door.

“Sabrina works really hard,” Beth remarked. “She parties really hard, too.”

Amy nodded. “I don’t party as hard and I don’t work as hard. I don’t see the point of studying away all of college just to get a 4.0.”

Caitlin changed into a skirt and Amy’s green mesh tube top, which showed off her toned shoulders. Most of the sisters wore dresses to their own Date Parties, but when it came to fraternity semiformals, they almost always chose sundresses or skirts and heels. As Beth twisted Amy’s curls into a topknot, the conversation topic shifted to the differences among sororities. Amy and Caitlin rattled off the defining features for each sorority: Beta Pi wore Tiffany’s jewelry; another sorority wore shorts with letters on their behinds.

“I wonder what Greg’s girlfriend is going to wear to Date Party,” Amy mused, and leaned forward to put her chin in her hands.

Beth pulled her back. “Shoulders back, please!”

“Y’all remember last party Priscilla was wearing her hair in a headband
and
pigtails?” Amy said, popping open a Tic Tac box. “When it’s time to dress up, I actually take time to do my hair.” Caitlin and Amy took bets on whether Priscilla would have her hair in a headband for Date Party.

“She’s just tacky. She has no fashion sense whatsoever,” Amy said.

Beth asked Caitlin to hold the tiny braids she had woven in Amy’s hair while she rubbed a fruity-smelling product over Amy’s crown. Beth then twisted the braids into the shape of what looked like two Princess Leia Danishes on top of Amy’s head. When Amy got up to do her makeup, Caitlin took her place in front of Beth. Beth held up Caitlin’s hair. “What do you think? Half up or up?”

“I always wear it up,” Caitlin said, before pausing and cocking her head. “I don’t do anything halfway.” Amy snickered from the other room.

As Beth stuck Amy’s pastel clips in Caitlin’s hair, Amy rummaged through her purse. “Caitlin, should we ask the boys to bring something for the thermoses?”

Caitlin: “Taylor’s bringing Smirnoff.”

Beth: “Oh, Taylor’s going, too?

Caitlin: “Taylor’s a male slut.”

Amy: “Taylor’s obsessed with Caitlin.”

Beth: “Caitlin’s a pothead.”

Caitlin: “We’re not potheads. Me and Sabrina have been cutting back.”

Beth: “To what?”

Caitlin: “We’re down to four days a week.”

As Beth continued to fuss over Caitlin’s hair, Caitlin stared at the ceiling and sang a Missy Elliott song to herself: “Not on the bed, lay me on your sofa. Phone before you come, I need to shave my chacha.” After about fifteen more minutes, Caitlin grew fidgety. “It’s okay, I’ll just wear it in a ponytail,” she told Beth. “I only have ten minutes to do my makeup, anyway.”

Beth picked up a curling iron and tried to put some waves in Caitlin’s hair. After forty-five minutes, Beth announced that she had finished. Caitlin stood up looking exactly the same as when she had first sat down.

TAYLOR AND JAKE CAME TO PICK UP CAITLIN AND AMY
and walk them to their frat house to pre-game. When the girls walked in, the Mu Zeta Nu brothers flocked to them. Amy spotted Priscilla across the room, glaring at the sorority girls for drawing attention. Amy subtly nudged Caitlin, pointed her chin toward Priscilla, and both of them burst into loud laughter. The boys assumed they were laughing because they had been drinking already. But that wasn’t it. Priscilla was wearing a headband.

On a couch in the den, Taylor put his arm around Caitlin, lightly scratching the back of her arm. Caitlin froze—she hadn’t let a boy other than Chris, who was gentle and considerate in bed, touch her since the rape—but tried to calm herself down. It helped when Amy came over with two shots of vodka and a beer for each of them. Caitlin knew Amy was keeping an eye on her and she appreciated it, but she also wasn’t telling Amy everything. Amy, Caitlin believed, didn’t give Chris a chance. Ever since he had broken up with Caitlin, Amy had made it clear she didn’t like Chris. “Go for Taylor,” Amy had told her. “Forget about Chris. Forget about your mama.” But this was Caitlin’s life, and how she felt about Chris was her own business. So she didn’t tell her sister about how much time she and Chris had been spending together—he had even prepared a spaghetti dinner for her, even though he had never cooked before. She didn’t tell Amy that he refused to get back together officially but he still had sex with her. Or that she was maybe starting to love him again, and that her mother was thrilled with her for giving Chris another opportunity.

Under different circumstances, Caitlin might have dated Taylor—it was because of Chris that she wasn’t interested now. She could envision them meeting up again sometime later in college. “I wasn’t sure why you asked me,” she told Taylor, feeling guilty. “I don’t do random hookups.”

BOOK: Pledged
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