My phone blips. Another email. Given that I’m stuck at an un-jaywalkable intersection in the East Village, I pause to open it. It’s another reply to my sorority sister’s chain email. The subject line from 35 emails ago simply reads: “Interesting.” I’m immediately engrossed, missing the walking man and chance to cross the street.
Earlier this week, another email sent off to “sisters” surfaced on the internet. It has received hundreds of thousands of reads, an onslaught of comments and at least two well-known dramatic readings. Rebecca Martinson’s virulent, expletive-filled rant confirmed and probably strengthened everybody’s stereotype of Greek life.
Her email evoked many emotions. I was embarrassed for her and disgusted with the email. I was incredulous that she could send something like that to an entire chapter of girls that she pays dues to be a member of. (Also that she used email, when everybody knows can easily be forwarded or published.) I thought of my own past Greek Weeks with amusement. But mostly I recalled the intense and all-consuming nature of the Greek system — the politics, the rankings, the jockeying for connection to a certain fraternity, the endless events, the rivalry of shirts and styles. I remembered what it was like to care so much about the frivolity. Keep reading »
