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London Times Article on Ole Miss Rush
Copyright 1998 Times Newspapers Limited
The Times (London)
November 28, 1998, Saturday
SECTION: Features
LENGTH: 2247 words
HEADLINE: The chosen ones
BYLINE: Diane Roberts
BODY:
They've got to university, but the greatest test is still ahead as America's golden girls vie for entry into the elite sorority houses that will shape the rest of their lives
It looks like an all-girl army on the march. More than 600 young women parade in sequence across the oak-shaded campus of the University of Mississippi, separating alphabetically into ten regiments on a street called Sorority Row. They aren't precisely in uniform, although most are wearing short, strappy dresses, pearl necklaces and high-heeled sandals displaying carefully pedicured toenails painted pale pink.
The tension in the air is palpable as the women line up in silent groups outside ten large houses with identical white Doric columns and verandas, distinguished only by different Greek letters: Delta Gamma, Kappa Delta, Phi Mu, Kappa Kappa Gamma, DeltaDelta Delta. At exactly 5pm a loud rapid thumping breaks the silence as the hundred or so inhabitants of the Delta Delta Delta house bang on the windows and walls of their house. Some of the young women standing outside straighten their backs and smooth their hair. The front doors of the house are thrown open and the residents pour on to the street, dressed in identical Ralph Lauren shirt dresses singing, "I'm a Delta, Delta, Delta, lucky person that I am." They head towards one of the groups of young girls, each calling out a name. It looks spontaneous, but the ritual is as choreographed as a Broadway dance number. The members have studied CVs and photos submitted by the girls and know exactly who is who.
For these young Southern belles, the party that follows as they are led inside the house marks the most important moment in their university life. Tonight and over the next ten days, all their efforts will be channelled into winning membership of one of the ten exclusive all-female clubs known as sororities. They have already spent a large sum of money on designer dresses for parties held by different sororities over the ensuing interview period known as "rush". Should they be invited to join, they will pay a further $ 4,000 (Pounds 2,500) per annum for the privilege. At campuses throughout the United States similiar scenes will be enacted as the academic year begins. Kappa Kappa Gamma alone has 113 chapters from New England to Florida. But nowhere is acceptance into a sorority more crucial than in the conservative Deep South, where the American class system is at its most highly articulated.
"It's a really important decision to make - which girls you go with. I'm really excited." says Carly Peterson, 18, one of the hopefuls who are known as "rushees." "I mean, this affects you for the rest of your life, and you want to be picked by the best girls." Delta Delta Delta is at the top of the sorority super league, by virtue of its members' aristocratic Southern lineage, classic good looks and leadership of the University of Mississippi.
Peterson, a marketing student, is not exaggerating the importance of gaining membership into the "right" sorority. Her social life at university will revolve around the house into which she is accepted. Members live and eat in the sorority house. Her admittance will not only govern her friendships at university but also possibly her career development: sorority alumnae look after their own in the job market. Most importantly, the elite sororities hang out with the elite fraternities, stocked with eligible young bachelors - the scions of Southern political dynasties and plantation families.
With her Southern pedigree and the fact her brother is a star on the university football team, Peterson has little reason to fear rejection. She also has the obligatory letters of recommendation from sorority alumnae. Her friend, psychology student Natalie Phillips, 18, has equal cause for optimism: her aunts were Delta Gammas. Any girl whose close relative was a member of a sorority is known as a "legacy" and will almost certainly be chosen. Girls with few "recs" and no connections will not prosper.
The party at Delta Delta Delta lasts about an hour. Peterson is buoyant as she comes out. She says that she already knows a lot of girls in sororities and had no problem making conversation with members. "We just chat, catch up," she says nonchalantly. Phillips is slightly less confident. "It's a little scary. I didn't know what to expect," she says. "The conversation's pretty normal. They ask you about your major (course of study) and your dorm room. Stuff like that."
There is little time to dally as they hurry on to the next party at the Phi Mu house at 6pm. Throughout the evening, and on subsequent evenings up and down Sorority Row similar "Coke parties" (as in Coca-Cola) take place, to ensure that girls are exposed to all ten houses. Each sorority has different songs and different outfits, but the interview process is the same. For no particular reason the Phi Mus wear mini-skirts, while the Kappa Kappa Gammas wear denim and bandannas.
Around 80 per cent of this year's 637 contenders will be invited to join a sorority at the end of the ten-day rush process, but they will not necessarily manage to join the one of their choice, and some will drop out of the process. Others face the prospect of being rejected by all ten. For these unlucky girls, the humiliation is such that they might even leave the University of Mississippi or try to transfer to another university in the hope that they will be accepted by a sorority there. Others are so traumatised that they go into therapy. Special "rush" counsellors on the look-out for depressed rejects will sometimes mount a suicide watch.
American sororities date from the 1850s as part of a push by women for access to higher education. Critics say they are an anachronism in the Nineties and accuse them of being elitist, anti-feminist and even racist. While black sororities exist, only one black woman has gained access to the white University of Mississippi sororities.
"There's no question that sororities reinforce the old race system and rigid gender roles that the so called "New South" is supposedly shedding," says Judith Menesee, a writer and journalist from Georgia.
Sorority women defend the system as a way to make close friends and forge lifelong bonds - the female equivalent of the freemasons. They have their own candlelit rituals and secret handshakes. If they are accepted into a sorority a celebration is held in which new members, known as "pledges", dress up in white outfits and swear to be faithful to their sorority. The Greek letters of their names are not arbitrary but have a hidden meaning revealed only in an initiation ceremony which happens after the pledge has achieved a certain academic standard, learnt the history of her sorority and proved herself a worthy "sister".
"There's this saying that it's easier to get into heaven than get into an Ole Miss sorority. That's a little silly," says 21-year-old Rebecca Hawkins, vice-president of Panhellenic, the national governing body of all the white sororities. She rejects the notion that sororities are elitist. "People tend to divide themselves up anyway," she says. "When you get to college you want to belong somewhere."
Over the next week hopeful rushees like Peterson and Phillips wait anxiously for cards that will inform them whether they have been rejected or accepted for the next phase of "interviews". The most impressive candidates, including Peterson, have been invited back by most sororities for a second round of parties, known as "skit parties". These are more competitive affairs. A whole new wardrobe of more glamourous cocktail dresses is required and the level of conversation becomes more specific, ranging from their career aspirations and who they know in common to their favourite make of shoes.
Dressed in an Audrey Hepburn-style black satin dress, Peterson leaves the Phi Mu house. "This is stressful," she says. "There are just so many nice girls. I mean, I go to one and think this is where I want to be for sure, then I go to another house and I love the girls there, too. This is kind of like interviewing for a job. You have to know what you want."
She's looking forward to the final round, due to be held three days later: "I can't wait to wear this dress I got." Phillips, who is more reticent about discussing progress, is going to parties in a different order, but they have four houses in common, so they could end up as sisters.
For those who are weeded out of the process at this stage, the devastation is crushing. Earlier in the day 30 rushees got the news that they had been "released": no sorority wanted them. Several broken-hearted girls were threatening to leave town. Rush counsellor Charlie Neely says: "We just tell them straight out they aren't being asked back. It's not easy and it's not fun. They get pretty upset and call their mothers."
Third-year journalism student Charlotte Hendrix recalls reaching the final round only to be rejected. "I felt I was a really good candidate, a super-achiever - I got all these recs. I really liked Delta Gamma and I thought the DGs really liked me. But they didn't give me a bid. I was miserable. I just wanted to drop out and go home. Maybe I should have gone on more about who I knew, the connections I had - that whole game they play. I was too much myself."
In the event, she decided to stay on at Mississippi and went through the agonising process again in her second year. This time she was accepted by ABC, a lower-ranking sorority that she left soon after. "They just didn't set the world on fire for me any more. I found other things I was interested in."
Each sorority at Mississippi may spend up to $ 8,000 on rush parties, and most of this is invested in the final selection process known as the "preferential parties". The food is suburban chic: tiny quiches and homemade truffles. There is never any alcohol. Instead girls sip lemonade or pink-sherbert punch from crystal glasses.
As the final round of parties begins, there is an air of collective hysteria. Indeed, crying is an essential ingredient. Prospective members have narrowed down their choice of sorority to three and there is still the possibility that they will be rejected by all of them. The sororities are anxious to develop some emotional connection with the top quality prospects who have now been carefully identified during the last two parties. In the final round a sister will take a desirable candidate by the hand and whisper platitudes such as "I want you to be my sister forever", in an effort to generate a bond. The rooms are lit with candles and boxes of tissues are placed strategically around the house.
Peterson was asked back to six houses. Phillips was not quite so spoilt for choice. She marked her acceptances at the university chapel, which functions as rush central office, and left very quickly. "Natalie's kind of upset," says Peterson. "But she knows which one she's going for, so she'll be okay."
Three of the grandest houses are wooing Peterson. At this point, she must make all sorts of calculations: which house best fits her self-image, which is the most well-connected and which she feels most comfortable in. "I have a feeling that the right choice will just kind of come to me," she says.
At the final party at the Kappa Kappa Gamma house members stood outside holding white candles, quietly singing. Peterson, dressed in a knock-out brown silk one-shouldered dress, was led inside by the hand. She is still dabbing at her eyes when she leaves. "I got pretty teary in there. They wrote us each a personal letter."
Next on the agenda are parties at Phi Mu and then Delta Delta Delta: "Oh, it's going to be hard!" That same evening she and Phillips walk to the campus chapel to make their final choice of sorority, surrounded by other sobbing girls. They must list three in order of preference. Their preference list is matched with that of the sororities and bids are issued the following afternoon.
In front of the sorority houses, members relight their candles, competing noisily with each other as they sing their songs. The Phi Mus, dressed in identical pink taffeta, are out on their balcony primly singing "sisters we are in a bond so true may it grow for ever," to the tune of Edelweiss while the more rowdy Delta Gammas shout "we are the Delta Gammas, D-e-l-t-a G-a-m-m-a." They will be up all night, wrangling who should be on the A list.
The next morning is the day of reckoning for the 527 girls who have survived the week's arduous set of parties. They are joined by members of their families who wait anxiously with their daughters for invitations to arrive from the sorority houses. It is a long day, the rush counsellors hand-deliver the invitations at exactly 4pm. Phillips barely has time to shout for joy when two of her new sisters grab her hand and drag her off to her new home - Kappa Kappa Gamma. She is given a sorority shirt to wear, and other presents including picture frames, baseball hats and Post-It notes in sorority colours. Peterson has got into Delta Delta Delta. "Oh my God!" she yells, hugging everyone in range. "I'm so happy. I mean it, y'all, I'm so happy!" Tomorrow there are classes, exams, a career to plot. But today there's just the promise of eternal friendship, love and belonging, the joy of inclusion, the almost-guilty fun of being one of the chosen ones.
Last edited by carnation; 10-02-2002 at 07:38 AM.
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