Trust the Process
Let’s talk about sorority rush, or recruitment, as it’s now called.
Photo by Julie Miley Schlegel: Random photo on a path at Torrey Pines State Natural Reserve
It’s the time of year where young women ask me if I was in a sorority and then ask the follow-up question (and the only reason they care): “Can you write me a recommendation letter?”
Of course I can, I answer, and then immediately start preparing them for what I know could be the biggest perceived rejection of their 18-year-old lives so far. I will if you remember not to take any rejection personally. I will if you’ll remember that if you don’t get in, it has nothing to do with you. It’s an algorithm. It’s who you know. It’s pure luck. Some of the sororities know who they’re inviting to be members months before recruitment starts.
“OK,” they answer. “Yeah, I know.” Nodding. Smiling. I know. I know. I know.
Every time I’m asked for a recommendation, I am immediately transported back to the corner of the university parlor on Bid Day 1993. There I sat, rejected from the sorority I wanted, or thought I wanted, as a barely 18-year-old. No one else in the room, I held the bid in my hand, the invitation to join the sorority that I ultimately rejected.
Tears streamed down my face as I sat curled up in a salmon-colored velvet chair. Blessedly, in 1993 there were no cell phones, so no one could find me. I stayed hidden for as long as I needed to restore my dignity. When I finally collected myself, I went back to the dorm to face my friends, all of whom were seemingly welcomed into the sorority of their dreams.
“It’s OK,” I told them, offering superficial congratulations and a terse smile. They comforted me and went to their parties while I stayed in the dorm, stone-faced while my inner thoughts swirled. Why didn’t they want me? Was I not good enough? Is there something wrong with me? How could she get in and not me? Everyone had cheerfully said “Trust the process!” The process had left me disappointed and sad.
Around this time of year, I see young women and their families going through the process. Every year, it makes me want to go back to that 18-year-old me in the salmon velvet chair and tell her these things.
You did not get in. You were spurned by people who don’t know a damn thing about you. Pick yourself up off this chair, wipe your tears, and walk back out into the world. With time you will learn that what other people think of you has, actually, nothing to do with you. Let them think what they will. If people don’t like you or want you, move on. You will find your people.
Everyone says “trust the process,” but here’s the deal. The process sucks, especially this process. It is an emotional roller coaster. You will learn that there are people for whom the process always seems to work out. That’s the way life works. Some of them will seemingly have the upper hand at every turn of their lives. That has nothing to do with you. It’s not your process.
There are people who have no interest in being in this process. And others who would like to but can’t or won’t spend the money to do so. That’s OK, too. People who don’t want to be in this particular process will find their place somewhere else. Every person gets to make the choices for her “one wild and precious life,” to quote Mary Oliver.
Trusting the process brought you here, to the salmon velvet chair. You have two options. You can take the bid you don’t want and try to make friends. You can decline the bid. If you decline the bid and drop out, with time you can decide if you want to go through this godforsaken process again to join a sorority in the future. If you do, fine. If you don’t, also fine.
You have time to make that choice. All you have to do now is wake up tomorrow, brush your teeth and hair, get dressed and go to class. One day, one moment at a time. You will watch your friends going to events you’re not invited to, and you will hurt all over again. But with time, it gets easier. Like with everything in life, real friendships will transcend obstacles in their path.
Most importantly, this is a blip on the timeline of your life. The people who looked you in the eye and tearfully told you how much they like you and that they could see you in the sisterhood? Maybe they really did like you and still the computer didn’t match you up. As you mature, you will learn to trust people’s actions more than their words. Lesson by lesson, you will learn the way the world works.
Personally, I did choose to go through the godforsaken process one more time in 1994, and I joined a sorority my sophomore year. It wasn’t the one I thought I wanted freshman year. It wasn’t even the one my best friends were in. Going through the second time was easier, because I knew I would be fine with or without joining a sorority.
I made great friends, and I participated in service opportunities. I even became an officer senior year. But it was never really my main identity, which makes sense now that I know who I am (she who dislikes group activities and big crowds).
I left sorority life behind in college and now only think of it when I’m asked to write a recommendation or when, as occurred today, I’m scrolling social media and see that my high school friend’s daughter pledged my sorority.
Like everything in life, sorority life comes with both the good and the bad. Congratulations to those who got in the sisterhood of their dreams. Kudos to those who got into their 6th choice and are using the opportunity to make new friends and give it a chance. And hugs to those who joined and with time realized: this isn’t for me.
But to those of us in the salmon pink velvet chairs on Bid Day, you’re going to be OK, too. If the path you’re on has a giant roadblock, sweet girl, it ain’t your path. So maybe in that way, you do have to trust the process. It’s just that your process doesn’t end on Bid Day.
The advice and opinions herein are by no means meant to be a substitute for professional medical advice. Please contact your personal physician, mental health provider or health care professional for medical advice. Opinions are my own.