Hello, my name is Savannah Cordova and I’m a sorority girl.
A lot of people don’t realize this about me. My sisters do, obviously, and my parents and roommates, close friends. But in terms of day-to-day life, I pretty much fly under the radar. I refrain from mentioning it in casual conversations. I rarely wear letters outside the comfort of my own home. I’ve even been known to untag myself from Facebook photos that could reveal a little too much about my secret double life. I’m basically Hannah Montana at this point — except instead of a pop star, I’m a sorority sister, which is decidedly less glamorous.
So there you have it: for the past few months, I have been ashamed of my sorority girl status. But not anymore. Because now I’m on the other side. The other side of what, you may ask? One word: recruitment.
For those who don’t know, recruitment is the bane of every Panhellenic sorority’s existence. It’s a week-long process during which potential new members, or PNMs, visit the various houses on campus so they can figure out which one they might want to join. From that description, it sounds easy, maybe even a little fun. You get to meet your future sisters and spend a whole week laughing, crafting and eating tiny desserts! Sure, that version of recruitment sounds like a dream come true. I would be absolutely down for that version of recruitment.
Unfortunately, that is not the version I experienced.
I went into prerecruitment—a two-week period of military-grade training to prepare us for the hell that was to come — not sure what to expect. I’d had the idea of it in the back of my mind all summer, but it wasn’t until I got back to Davis that I fully comprehended its reality. Prerecruitment was six hours a day of practicing everything I’ve ever hated, including (but not limited to) mind-numbing small talk, memorizing and yelling random names in quick succession, and dancing in five-inch heels. You hear that? Dancing in heels. I’m not a particularly uncoordinated person, but I can honestly say that attempting to keep up with our ever-changing stomp-clap choreography made me fear for my life on more than one occasion.
Regardless, I managed to make it through prerecruitment. My sisters and I bonded over the pain of forced extroversion and swollen feet. And even though it was bad, I knew it could’ve been a lot worse. Our President and Recruitment Chair were dedicated to the task of preparing us for battle (so to speak) while still keeping up morale, which I’d heard was at an all-time low during last year’s recruitment. So despite the many complaints I’ve listed here, I was still a relatively happy camper at the end of prerecruitment.
Then actual recruitment hit. And boy, did it hit hard.
I remember few specifics about Go Greek Day, the first in the lineup. It consisted of having three-minute conversations with three girls per 15-minute party, shouting over everyone else just to be heard, trying desperately to forge a meaningful connection between you and a girl whose name you’d already forgotten. The sun beat down. The PNMs turned into unresponsive zombies. At the end of the day I had several leaves in my hair and derangement in my eyes. Still, I had to be back the next morning at 7 am, outfit assembled, makeup applied, not a hair out of place.
The second day was a nightmare. I overslept, forgetting that I had promised to drive another girl to the house. We were both late, and the combination of guilt and stress had me on the verge of tears from the very start. It was House Tours day, and I felt like every tour I gave was marred by my negativity, yet I still couldn’t escape it. At one point I accidentally dropped a glass in the kitchen and it shattered, which was way too symbolic for me in my fragile state. I ran into the bathroom and stared at my reflection in the mirror, willing myself not to cry. Then I came back out and gave another house tour, because that’s what I had to do.
Philanthropy Day came third, and I genuinely thought I would have a psychological meltdown if I had to talk to any more girls. Maybe our Recruitment Chair could sense this, or maybe some kind of higher power was watching over me that day; in any case, I was put on water duty. It might not sound like much, but delivering glasses of water to people was my saving grace. I finally felt useful, like I was doing my part. And I redeemed myself from the day before by not dropping a single glass, even though I was wearing wedges.
The following two days were school days, meaning we didn’t have recruitment. These were possibly the most blissful days of my life. I slept in, I ate regularly, and I didn’t cry at all. I was the embodiment of that old saying, “Why do I keep hitting myself in the head with a hammer? Because it feels so good when I stop.”
Of course, the hammer came back full force the next day. It was Preference Night, for which we invited back the girls we liked from the first three days to seriously consider their membership in our organization. I was on the Pref Night prep committee, and I spent hours hanging streamers from the rafters of our house, trying not to think about how it would take mere seconds to rip them away after the ceremony was over.
Pref Night itself was surprisingly enjoyable. I only had to talk to a handful of girls. Plus, I got to sit down and eat cake every round. I found myself getting choked up as I listened to my sisters speak about what our sorority means to them, and for the first time that week, I didn’t even try to hide my tears.
At last came Bid Day—the end of an era. Maybe it was just our knowledge that this was our last day, but the atmosphere at the house was much more relaxed and positive than it had been on previous days. I was finally comfortable around these new people — because they weren’t strangers anymore, they were my sisters. It sounds cheesy, it sounds fake, it sounds way too simplistic to be true, but it is. As we all rollerskated to an overenthusiastic DJ’s Top 40 selections (not the Bid Day activity I personally would have chosen, but whatever), I felt this ridiculous, irrepressible joy rise up in my chest. And it wasn’t just because I didn’t have to make any more small talk.
Recruitment has been over for three days now, and I can’t say that I was sad to see it go. But as grueling as the process was, the pure love and pride I now feel toward my sorority is one of the most incredible things I’ve ever experienced. Having seen the blood, sweat, and many, many tears that my sisters sacrificed to make this week a success, I can now confidently assert that being in a sorority is seriously badass. I have infinite respect for my own sisters, my fellow sorority girls here at UC Davis, and every girl in every single Panhellenic chapter across the country. I don’t know why it took me so long, but here I am at the end of my recruitment journey — and I can safely say that I am ready to give up keeping my double life a secret.