Sorority shame

I don't remember very much from college; much of the experience feels like a blur of confusion and discomfort. I suspect I've intentionally blocked out some memories that might be too difficult to relive, but I have no proof of this. Perhaps I'll know years from now after extensive therapy. (Hopefully the kind where a therapist oscillates a pocket watch and tells me that I'll soon begin to feel very sleepy.)

The first three years of college are especially hazy. I was in a terrible sorority, dating a terrible guy and hiding all these terrible things from my family and friends back home. Still, a few pleasant memories stick out. I don't think "pleasant" is the correct word, actually. "Illuminating" would be more accurate.

The strongest of these memories took place during the fall of my junior year. I was secretary in the terrible sorority. You can imagine how exciting that position was. We were meeting in a fancy room at the library; I can't remember what the meeting was about, but I'd guess it was to vote on which of us was the most terrible person. It was probably a four-way tie.

During the meeting, we talked a bit about how our recruitment numbers were a bit off. By "a bit off," I mean essentially nonexistent. Our president wondered aloud what we were doing wrong, and instead of telling her that we were all being terrible people and should probably stop doing that, I decided it would be much better to put down the other sororities on campus. I was a terrible person.

"Firstname Lastname told my little that she doesn't even feel wanted in her sorority," I said. "What we have going for us is that we care about each other."

I was wrong, as most of us did not care about each other in the slightest.

Less than five minutes after I said that, a girl from that sorority walked in. It turns out she had been studying in the adjacent room and had heard everything we were saying. Specifically, she had heard everything I was saying. When I saw her burst through the door, I felt a pang of shame so close to real emotion I almost came out of my haze.

"Hey guys," she said. "I just want you to know I'm in the next room."

She didn't have to say what she meant. We all knew she wanted us to know she was there so that we'd stop being such blatantly terrible people. Okay, so that I'd stop being such a blatantly terrible person. Surprisingly, she didn't say it with any anger or malice. She sounded as if she felt awkward and hurt. At that point, I wasn't used to people showing that kind of emotion. All the emotion I experienced manifested in the form of screaming and insults; sometimes, I was the person delivering these insults.

(Ed. Note: I am referring to my relationship when I describe the screaming. The girls in my sorority weren't abusive people; they just didn't understand what I was going through and liked to gossip. They are human and probably responded to my situation the best they could.)

To make matters worse, I really liked this girl. We worked together on the school paper, and she had always been so nice to me. Until she barged into that room where I was meeting with my terrible sorority sisters, I thought her kindness was fake. That was a reflection on me, not her. I allowed all the negativity surrounding me to consume me to the point that I regurgitated it back and assumed everyone else would do the same.

But there she stood, in a pink letter shirt emblazoned with cat fabric, asking me to stop denigrating a group she was part of because it hurt her feelings. All at once, I realized I was in the wrong. I felt like crying. She went back into the room, and we went back to talking. When our meeting ended, I walked downstairs with my sorority sisters and then doubled back to the room we had met in.

I knocked on the door of the study room, feeling happy and nervous that she was still there.

"About what I said in there," I muttered. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize," she said.

"Yes, I do. I was trying to build my sorority up by tearing yours down, and that's not right. I'm really sorry," I said.

To my surprise, she told me she forgave me. I expected her to show me the door or halfheartedly accept my apology. I didn't expect her to listen to me. I didn't expect her to treat me with even more kindness in the weeks, months and years following that experience. I certainly didn't expect her to invite me to her wedding earlier this year.

But she did, and I went. I went as a different person - a better person, I hope.

While she and I were never super close friends, she showed me how much honesty and kindness can change the way people respond to you. I'm forever grateful for that. Because she gave me the benefit of the doubt, I began preparing myself to do the same for others. Her kindness also helped me realize that I didn't want to be in the sorority I was in, and leaving that sorority helped me realize I didn't want to be in the relationship I was in. (It's also seriously cut down on the people I'm inviting to my wedding.)

It kick-started the life I live today, and she probably has no idea about it. After all, she was just being herself.

I'm so glad she was.