I happened to run into a good friend of mine outside of Collis. Rushing to the interview for which I was already a half hour late, I anticipated the usual quick hello and quick kiss on the cheek that is my typical mid-week greeting.
Instead, she proceeded to grab me for a bear hug. "Oh, you're not rushing either!" she exclaimed with a slight laugh.
"You're not?" For some reason, people who don't rush fascinate me (thank you, Dartmouth culture), so I needed to know why.
We sat down for a bit of late night Collis, both chilling out over a cup of overpriced but disturbingly delicious sorbet. And so begins her presidential address.
"I'm really not doing it because of the political and economic factors. I think the Greek system facilitates class differences. The rich always get in, and I find the financial aid is stereotypically degrading, like I'd be 'that Latina on financial aid.'"
"But you know, I think the majority of girls in houses are on financial aid," I filled in, mourning the loss of the last of my sweet dessert.
"I still think that I'd be the token one, the one deliberately looked at."
"Don't you already kinda feel like that? Look at where we are."
"But I don't need to walk into another level of it."
"So what about minority Greek --"
"Then I'd kinda feel like I was going 'where I'd belong.' But I mean I looked into it. It just didn't click. All together, the whole rush thing, for me there are so many negative factors on both sides that I'd rather be left in peace."
"You over-analyze this," I diagnose.
"You think?"
I continue my night, making rounds to Baker-Berry, hoping to get lost for a few hours in order to make sense of how economic conditions, time-space factors and gendered migration fits into a book about four Latina sisters. But of course, I've gotta do the hello/kiss/smothering hug thing again.
"You look tired," I say to one good friend, though the observation could be made with my eyes closed. An endless array of quizzes and midterms loom. Who the hell isn't tired?
"Rush."
"Go well?"
"I guess. Takes up a lot of time."
"But you wanted to do it."
"Yeah, it's another way to meet more upperclassmen and people in your class. Basically there is no other way to go out and meet like 60 new girls."
My mind drifts back to my sorbet. Oh yeah, and the other conversation.
"Do you like the process though? Like, do you think it's fair?"
"Honestly, it's hard to meet so many girls at once, and you have so little time to make an impression, let alone the right one. Plus, you have to look and play the part. The way that they make you dress up, not everyone has the resources to produce the 'appropriate outfit,' especially in later nights. To some extent, it kind of facilitates a divide."
For some reason, I felt compelled to ask another set of questions. It seemed pointless, as she's one of the few friends I have who I think is as situationally adaptable as me (i.e. it takes a lot of sh*t before we're really uncomfortable), but I had to ask.
"You're not feeling any of that black-girl-on-the-mainstream-feeling, are you?"
She shook her head.
"I don't think that when I walk in the door that they see me as the minority girl. You know stereotypes might pop into some people's minds, but I don't feel like it's a predominant sentiment."
"That's good."
"You should have rushed."
I rolled my eyes as I thought about another added pressure. "I don't think I would have lived through this term. One more thing might kill me."
She nods. I'm pretty sure she's as zoned out as I am.
Another question.
"Did you think about going minority?"
She nods, and for the first time that night, I'm genuinely shocked.
"But seeing how there is nothing here for black women, I decided to rush."
"If there had been one here, would you have gone in that direction?"
She nods again, shocking me two times in less than a minute. Clearly a record.
"Well, someone's loss, someone's gain," I say, shrugging my shoulders. At least those muscles are still functional. "Good luck."
She yawns and passes by, probably reaching the comfort of her bed hours before I begin to contemplate rest.
Like college, it's easy to think that going Greek is all about the right fit. But as these two very different conversations taught me, that's only the frosting on the cake. What it's truly about is having choices. Whether choosing not to be chosen, hoping to be chosen from a shot in the dark, or moving on another path for lack of choices, there is this overwhelming sense of decision. Selection. And, hopefully, an eventual sense of rest.
