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MY BIG FAT GREEK REJECTION

 

So your dream sorority cut you.

You suffered through rush.  You spent hours talking about nothing.  You sat through all the awkward “dancing”, delayed audio and slow motion laughing shots of those horrendous recruitment videos.  And what did you get out of it?  Sore cheeks.  No neon bro snapback for you.  No ridiculous gang sign.  And now, the only sisterhood you have access to is the one of the travelling pants.  It sucks.  I know.  But I have 3 magic words to console you.  Ok, here goes: 

BOO.  F-CKING.  HOO.

Let me be clear, I am not delegitimizing your feelings.  The impacts the rush system, Greek or not, has on girls’ spirits is extreme.  I know the rejection feels like a kill shot to your looks, your personality and your worth.  I know this feels like your very own personal Greek Tragedy.  A Big Fat Greek Rejection.  But honey, ain’t a problem some windex can’t fix.

You are Naomi Campbell walking to class.  You are the definition of glamour in those duck face selfies.    You are your mother’s daughter.  A Greek God.  Why?  Because you determine your worth.  No one else.  No friend, no foe, and certainly no sorority bid.  Growing up, we implicitly give up our self-worth to others’ opinions because acceptance feels amazing, rejection feels horrible, and rarely are we taught to put either in context. 

Opinions are just opinions, and they come from people who are trying to figure out this life-thing just like you.  See, when the world was created, no one knew anything.  No one knew what anyone else knew.  We all just bopped around until we arbitrarily stumbled upon different concepts – like “pretty.”  We started giving birth to new people, whom also knew nothing, but raised them up in this arbitrarily constructed system of “pretty.”  With each new generation fed into the system, the arbitrary system of “pretty” changed by person, by culture, by country and by time.

What is “pretty” to me may not be “pretty” to you, or “pretty” to the revolutionaries in the Middle East, or to the hip happenin’ cool cats of the 1920’s.  We each invent “pretty”, based on the inventions of “pretty” that have come before us.  It’s re-invented all the time.  The ability for our opinions on “pretty” to be so different in each culture, and to evolve so much over time, just proves how transient and baseless our individual opinions on “pretty” are now.

People grow up thinking “pretty” is a thing.  And they proceed to judge you.  But “pretty” is not one thing.  “Pretty” is a thing we all define differently and re-define constantly.  Therefore, “pretty” is what we make it.  So, you create your “pretty”, your “cool”, your “worth”.  Others do not have the right to judge you because they literally just don’t have it.  They never will.  Except for God.  And maybe Beyoncé.  Ha.  That was redundant.

Whether you are in a sorority or have never rushed at all, these judgments affect all of us, and deeply.  It’s not about hating on those that hate us.  It’s about putting the hate in context.  Setting your own standard, defining yourself and celebrating that. 

Besides, y’all know there’s got to be a special place in hell for people of judgment.  Let’s be real.

So your dream sorority cut you.

They did not find you “worthy.”  What the hell does that even mean?  Nothing.  Their opinions are arbitrary.  As are your opinions of them.  But you are not a child anymore.  You are a woman.  You’re worthy.  You’re worthy cause you said so.

Now that’s beautiful.

You are enough.  You are so enough.  It’s unbelievable how enough you are.  And not because I told you so.  But because you’re thinking it right now.

 

 

COMIC POP! POLITICS. TECHNOLOGY. EQUALITY. My name is RENCE and I double major in Political Science and Middle Eastern Studies at Duke University. I am a cast member of Duke University Improv (DUI), an undergraduate council member of the Duke Program in American Grand Strategy (AGS), and an intern for both Duke Undergraduate Admissions and Duke News & Communications.
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