And what a new order it was! Based on a group photo, my pledge class was ranked hottest on a Greek life-centric blog run by an anonymous troll. But that anonymous troll wielded a crazy amount of power. My pledge sisters chanted “We’re number one!” at parties and shared the post on Facebook as if this accolade was something hard earned. Some of the sophomores who vetted us took credit for curating the best-looking pledge class. It was a selling point at rush the following year: “Join our house! You can be hot too!”
It was cool to be cool; there was something perversely empowering about being associated with a bunch of hotties, and having other people think this about me was somewhat intoxicating. But it was also empty and embarrassing. At parties talking to boys, everything about me was irrelevant until he knew what house I was in. Only then would he comfortably proceed with a conversation.
Inside the Greek community this blog was a source of pride and arrogance and jealousy, and furthered feuds between houses of women. “Sisterhood” in this context only applies to girls under the same letters, and other women are always the enemy. We didn’t haze (though others did -- my freshman-year roommate was forced by older women in her sorority to get on her knees and simulate oral sex to a beer bottle a frat pledge held on his lap), partially because I think the girls in my house were genuinely nice people, but also because we feared retribution from competing sororities for stealing their prospects, or stealing their boyfriends, or any number of petty crimes amongst women. One publicized slip-up and the National Panhellenic Conference (NPC) would punish us, and little birds were everywhere. This led to nasty competition and ingrained distrust of the other houses, at least at a macro level.