I've been super inspired lately by my friend Kiley Reid who in the past two weeks has had three separate essays posted on Thought Catalog and Every Writer's Resource. Now, while these accomplishments haven't broken her into renowned J.K. Rowling status, I'd still like to give her five "you go Glen Cocos" up for submitting her penned thoughts and having a complete stranger think they're worthy of public viewing. They are worthy. And you, Kiley Reid, are SO worthy.
Her style is something different and daring and SO relatable to the girls who choose a life without sorority influences. You know who you girls are. You're definitely not the non sororal girls who say, "I just can't handle girls. I get along with guys so much better"...which...GAG ME because you are living a life of delusion. No, I'm talking about the girls who say, "I don't hate the idea of being in a sorority, but the whole rush process of running around in high heels and smiling for a week straight seemed tiring, so I decided to catch up on reruns of America's Next Top Model and eat a whole box of one hundred calorie pack Oreos instead."
PS: My forever favorite moment from ANTM. Tyra's crazy ass antics can't even hold a candle.
I remember when I waited in line with my mother for sorority registration at the University of Arizona. I remember my debilitatingly self-conscious self getting more and more uncomfortable as the line grew shorter. My eye line turned slightly downward as I started reading the myriad of words plastered in sparkle letters on all the other girls' neon sweatpants..."CHEER" "JUICY" "MINE" "YOURS" "LOOSE BUTTHOLE" (kidding) and the ever so coveted "PINK". This is actually one of the most vivid memories I have from my two years spent at the UofA probably due to the combination of loud colors and the invasive potency of cotton candy perfume in the air. The same cotton candy perfume I longed to smell of at first waft courtesy of the Swedish exchange student (who also introduced me to the super hawt trend of sparkly white eyeliner) in my middle school gym class became the same scent I turned my back on so assuredly that day. It's college. Time to grow up and grow into a nice floral scent. I leaned over to my mom and whispered, "I can't do this." My mom wasn't too pleased, not because it was her dream for me to wear WAY too many oversize hoodies with my Greek letters so proudly embroidered across the chest, but only because she had just waited in line for twenty minutes. God forbid. She replied, "What? Are you nervous? It'll be fine." "I'm not nervous. I just don't want to do this."
My dad was there to meet us near the exit wearing his crisp new University of Arizona baseball cap and matching trainers donning the Wildcats' fearsome colors of red and navy. "If you don't want to do it, you don't want to do it," he said firmly after I broke the news. As we walked away from the magical cotton candy land of sorority registration to the nearest bar, as dad had gone twenty minutes without a beer, I could tell he was masking with a passive demeanor his actual elation. His daughter would no longer be participating in any of that ritual "bull crap" and fraternity party "horse shit".
Sometimes, yeah, I regret my decision to not go through with pledging a sorority. I surely think my time would have been more enjoyable at an institution such as the UofA being a part of the Greek system, but I hightailed it for New York City after two years anyway. Moral of the story, I'm not against sororities (except for the girls of Gamma Phi Beta...always notably pinched face pretty and always notably dim), but I AM one of the girls who wasn't in one.
Kiley Reid writes for us. Watch her go at http://kileyreid.com.
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