On a warm evening in my sophomore year of college, my friend and I passed by the university gymnasium and noticed hundreds of people huddled around a makeshift wooden platform. Next to the platform, a DJ loudly played the latest uncensored rap hits to keep the crowd entertained. We ran into a couple of friends that informed us that they had been waiting for the past hour to watch a prominent sorority introduce 13 of its newest members. It was a probate. After much waiting, a shiny black stretch limousine pulled up to the curb and the crowd began cheering in anticipation and running towards the car with their cameras ready. Upon the DJs cue, the ladies filed out of the car in a single file line and danced towards the platform. Draped in the sorority's colors and wearing the customary mask to conceal their identities, they lined up on the platform according to height and straightly stood with their chins tilted toward the sky. Being my first probate, I had seen nothing like it. I had never seen an organization stage such ceremony for introducing members to the public. It was as if the girls had become overnight celebrities. As part of the ceremony, the ladies were required to reveal their identity by taking off their mask. As each mask came off, the crowd would let up a huge roar with exclamations that they did not know that their best friend/classmate/roommate had made the decision to pledge lifelong affiliation to an organization that promises accountability on the planes of sisterhood, scholarship and service. After the probate ended and the girls had officially been inducted, several spectators who had yet to join a Black Greek Letter Organization (BGLO) quietly voiced their desires to do so.
I left the probate desiring the same thing. I was enthralled by the display of sisterhood that night, and made it a point to conduct a little research of my own. Growing up, I was familiar with their names. I can remember that my elementary school principal had a license plate frame on her car that read, "A Phi A Sweetheart, 1976." One of my science teachers in high school excitedly awaited rainy days so that she could pull out her humongous pink and green umbrella that let everyone know that she was a member of Alpha Kappa Alpha. My uncle took it upon himself to encourage my brother and me to make sure that we made Black greek life a part of our college experience by informing us of their histories and their significance in the Black community. I scoured the internet learning about the four sororities that are part of what is referred to as the "Divine Nine," or the nine organizations belonging to the National Panhellenic Council. I took in the histories of Zeta Phi Beta, Sigma Gamma Rho, Alpha Kappa Alpha, and Delta Sigma Theta, and soon learned that I wasn't the only one as their informational books did not become available at the campus library until weeks after I requested them. I eventually fell in love with the history and mission of one of these organizations and decided that I would attend the next interest meeting that they would hold in the upcoming semester. In the process of waiting for the interest meeting, I learned quite a bit about the politics of becoming greek. Displaying or vocalizing any interest in a particular organization virtually blacklisted you from becoming a member in the other organizations, and may even jeopardize your chances of becoming a part of your intended as it's crucial that one goes through the entire process undetected by the public. Approaching members for information on the next interest meeting, wearing the organization's colors at the interest meeting, and being seen arriving at or leaving from the interest meeting were all forbidden technicalities that put your chances of "making it on line" (or making it to the period that all pledges must go through for bonding and informational purposes) at risk. It was very confusing and intimidating. I had to get all of the information that I was looking for in a roundabout way so that I didn't give up the fact that I was interested in going greek. As the semester progressed, I didn't hear anything about an interest meeting and it wasn't until I picked up a copy of the campus paper and discovered that the organization had been banned for hazing.
The organization had been banned for the next three years from inducting new members and wearing any paraphernalia on campus due to reports that its most recent members endured physical assaults, intimidation and harrassment during their pledge process. I was aware of all that hazing could entail; I knew that some processes got off with little to no hazing while others endured extreme torture for the sake of earning three greek letters. Such was the experience of Michael Davis.
Michael Davis was a 25-year-old student at Southeast Missouri State University when he decided to try out for membership in Kappa Alpha Psi Fraternity, Inc. One night during his process, he and other members of his pledge class were driven out to a secluded area and severely beaten by members of the fraternity. At the end of the incident, the members drove an unconscious Davis back to his residence (as opposed to the hospital), but not before stopping to get a bite to eat at Taco Bell. The next morning, Davis was found by his roommate, a member of his pledge class, foaming at the mouth and with a black fluid leaking out of his ear. Davis was taken to the hospital but succumbed from the several injuries that he had incurred that night (including a lacerated liver and kidney, broken ribs, and brain hemorrhage). The fraternity members told members of the pledge class to discard all fraternity-related paperwork that may have been in Davis' apartment and to tell authorities that Davis injured himself while playing football. When the truth surfaced, seven members of the organization served light jail sentences and, according to Davis' mother, Kappa Alpha Psi never offered an apology for Michael's death. The Davis family was recently awarded a $1.4 million settlement from the organization.
Hazing is prohibited by the executive board of all nine organizations in the NPHC, but it is covertly implemented and oftentimes overlooked as an integral part in the bonding aspect of the pledge process. It is believed that enduring physical and mental torment strengthens the bond between pledges who go through the ordeal together. Hazing is also supposed to instill within the pledges a sense of pride for having suffered for membership in the organization. It is what separates the strong from the weak. The member from the wannabe. The pledge from the paper.
"Pledging paper" is a somewhat tragic oxymoron that excludes actual members of an organization from experiencing authentic brotherhood or sisterhood within their organization.
This process is for those who seek to acquire membership via an intake process that involves signing off on paperwork, or for those who have graduated from college and are seeking membership through a graduate chapter. Though membership can be attained from this process, it is typically frowned upon by "real" members that have pledged into the organization. A lack of cohesiveness develops amongst members and the notion of belonging comes into question. For example, a NPHC sorority had been inactive on our campus for quite some time (about two or three years). They had not been banned from the university, they just told everyone that they were not seeking to acquire new members because they had "bonded" and were content with being the way they were. A handful of girls weren't trying to hear all that. Many of them had grown up with the anticipation of pledging the
sorority once they got to college. Some had come from long familial lines of women who had been members in the organization, and it was expected for them to follow suit once their time came. To wait their whole lives to get to college and seek membership in the organization only to hear the excuse given by the chapter members was unacceptable. The girls went through the national board to obtain permission to sign paperwork that would grant them membership in the organization. They were obliged, and suddenly we now had new members of the sorority sporting paraphernalia on campus. There was no probate, no grand announcement introducing their accomplishment unlike the girls mentioned at the beginning of the post. The members who had "bonded" were livid to say the least. There was a Facebook fiasco where the older members denounced the newer members, saying in not-so-nice terms that they were not "real" sisters, their sisters were the ones who pledged into the organization. The newer members felt alienated, and questioned if they were really entitled to wear the greek letters that they had definitely
paid for. It wasn't until the older members graduated that the new girls were able to rep their organization without being stigmatized for taking the "easy way in."
After learning that the organization I wanted to try out for had been banned for the rest of my undergraduate career, I wondered if I'd ever be a part of the sorority, or if I wanted to be associated with a group that would exchange torture for sisterhood. I tried to think over all of the ways that the organization had been beneficial to our university and our community, and I had a hard time doing so. I knew that they were good for throwing parties. I knew that they could put together a live step show. I knew that were able to commandeer the respect from greeks and non-greeks alike due to the prestige that is tied to their organization, but I just did not know enough about what they did for the community. I'd be overwhelmed if I received one community service flier for every two that I received advertising a greek foam party, club party or step show. In spite of being aware of all the good things that the graduate chapters of these organizations had contributed to the wellbeing of the community, I began to think that BGLOs were irrelevant on the college level.
Now, I have to give them some credit. I have attended my share of engaging, thought-provoking forums on campus that were hosted by members of these organizations. My questioning of the relevance of collegiate BGLOs was resultant of what I considered
to be the prevalence of hypocrisy between what these organizations are today and what they were at the time of their inception. When I first became interested in a particular greek sorority, I remember how I was enamored by the indignation of the founders who sought to create a new organization in the shadow of another that they felt was more social than activist. I remember being enthused when I learned that several of my political, artistic and personal sheroes were members. I didn't want to join to step, strut, call, wear colors or throw up a hand sign. Those were fringe benefits. I wanted to join to be molded into a woman of intellect that had the power to change her world for the better, much like how its founders had. I do not doubt that BGLOs create individuals of this caliber, nor do I doubt the influence that BGLOs have had on our country and our world. But I cannot help but to imagine how much more efficient their impact would be on the college level if its members more closely emulated the organization's ideologies outlined in its original mission. Perhaps I still have a lot more to learn.
PEACE
P.S. -- I ultimately joined a non-NPHC organization, and I love my sorors dearly. I guess everything really does happen for a reason!
