A Love/Hate Relationship

May-Lieng Karageorge

My freshman year, a friend told me that one of his goals at Dartmouth was to explore as many cultural spaces as possible. While that sounds like a pretty clichèd endeavor, it’s still something many of us fail to do—getting out of our comfort zones and choosing to deal with people who aren’t like us, ones who challenge our views, expand our horizons, or just plain get on our damn nerves with their inanity. The following are two experiences that have shaped my time at Dartmouth: one gives me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside, and the other involves a love/hate relationship that gives me fuzzy feelings, too, but also makes me want to stab myself in the eye.

Sorority Gal

Let’s start with the space that caused me to cross the love-hate line so many times. In the name of exploring various cultural spaces, I accepted an open bid to my sorority during sophomore spring to see what mainstream Dartmouth was raving about. Some of my closest friends were already in the house, so I figured this was a good way to spend time with them. What I didn’t realize about joining a house was that while, yes, I would get an opportunity to spend time with my amazing friends and meet more amazing girls (both of which I’ve done and am grateful for), I would also be stuck as a “sister” to some crazy psychos, drama queens, and annoying whiners.

Let me first make a disclaimer. The aforementioned groups of people, plus tools, d-bags, etc., exist everywhere at Dartmouth. The difference between finding them at say, Novack, and finding them in your sorority, though, is that in the former situation, you can get the hell out of there real quick. But alas, in the latter, you’re bound to have to deal with them again and again. During meetings, for example, you have to endure some annoying sister’s TMI and graphic account of her sexual encounters. During sisterhood trips, you can barely avoid being part of some other sister’s self-induced boy drama. At formal or an open party, inevitably someone will—in all her drunken glory—break the fuck down and wail about how much life sucks for her and can someone please give her a hug. Projectile vomit. Sigh. You can’t even escape them in cyberspace. Stupid, time-wasting house blitzes galore. While other people are better about laughing all these people off, and better at selectively checking house blitzes that won’t waste one’s time, I guess I am not so gifted.

The second reason that I’m not well-suited for a sorority has to do with the structure of the Greek system. Because of the gendered dichotomy of the system, the space becomes sexualized, and its participants are socialized to look at the opposite gender as a limited resource we must fight over. This is sad on two fronts. Firstly, the idea that there are a limited number of eligible guys on campus often makes girls settle, instead of really looking for guys who are not only f-me hot, but know how to respect and make sweet love to a girl. Secondly, not only do they settle, but they’ll cut other females (figuratively speaking, not in a literal shank-fest way—although it has often come close to that) for these losers. I can’t tell you how many times I wanted to stab myself in the eye when I heard girls, not so much in my sorority but within the system at large, fight over this douchebag or that woman-beater. Because of the sexualized nature of the Greek system, it’s also hard to establish platonic friendships with guys because every time you start hanging out with a guy a little too often, people immediately assume you’re hooking up, making shit awkward for everyone. Thanks a lot.

The last reason sororities and I are not a good match is simply because I’m too poor for it. I hope I don’t have to explain at length why the Greek system is classist by default (summary of main reason: high cost of dues/slush funds + doing house hours to afford dues = a huge time suck). Even as a member of the house with the cheapest dues and the most comprehensive financial aid system, I still do not find being in a house affordable. I often times end up spending so much time doing house hours to afford dues that I barely have extra time to spend at the house. Even if you’re set on the dues front, there are still so many extra expenses: buying shirts for this big weekend and that big event, that overpriced Jockwear gear, formal attire, hosting Wine & Cheese, paying extra for a sisterhood trip to Montreal, etc. Yes, I realize these things are optional, but they’re an option everyone else has the privilege of partaking in without an extra thought, creating the false illusion that paying dues will give you the complete “Greek Life package,” when in reality there are tons of hidden expenses not all of us can afford. Looking back, I don’t think the financial sacrifices I had to make to be in a house were worth it.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure sororities can be absolutely heavenly for other girls, and mine has been a source of a lot of great memories as well. It’s been a huge internal struggle deciding whether to depledge, or stick around. I chose to stick around because of the tremendous respect and love I have for the majority of my sisters. I just wish I could have met and gotten to know them without taking part in such a challenging and flawed system. Catering Wench

At the end of every spring, I stay on campus to work for Commencement and Reunions (C&R). It’s good money, and a good excuse to partake in Senior Week debauchery. Money, booze, and boys aside, working C&R has been one of my favorite experiences at Dartmouth because of the co-workers I met and befriended.

There are several C&R jobs, each with its own perks and disadvantages. I work Catering, which is probably the most labor-intensive of all the C&R jobs; depending on your schedule, you can end up working 17-hour days. I’d go home sore as fuck, my feet aching and smelly, big sweat stains on my armpits. Love it.

You see, there’s something about working a shitty job that makes for great bonds and a sense of camaraderie, despite the fact that the C&R staff is an eclectic assortment. My co-workers aren’t just poor kids who need to work to pay for tuition and books. There are athletes looking for a productive way to spend interim periods, shopaholics desperate to pay off their credit card bills, and work-addicts that just can’t stay idle at home, even though they already have a baller internship lined up for the summer.

Despite the diverse composition of the staff, we get along so well because we bond mainly through sharing and respecting one another’s backgrounds and views: one girl’s pride in being a West Virginian and her love of muscle cars; a co-worker’s worries about getting into medical school and living up to his family’s pristine achievements; a white Southerner’s struggles with having minority friends who assume that he’s privileged, despite the fact that he’s a first-generation student who comes from a low socioeconomic class.

We exchange stories of the good ass-whoopings we got as little kids, dysfunctional families, and other hilarious growing up tales. One co-worker described how his education was a product of a lucky accident. He was originally the family shepherd, but one day, when he was eight, he fell asleep while shepherding and lost all of his family’s sheep. Useless as a source of labor, his parents enrolled him in school. Now he’s thriving at Dartmouth. Another co-worker explained the common practice of having multiple wives in Afghanistan, and then jokingly expressed his wish of having 27 wives. That led to many politically-incorrect jokes about cows and wives (you had to be there). I felt at home sharing my stories of growing up in Indonesia, and my views as a multiracial, first-generation student at Dartmouth. Of course, there were negative e
ncounters. Like the time I overheard a student manager saying that the reason he had an Asian girlfriend was because “Asian girls are submissive.” Or another time when a co-worker mistook a friend’s comment as racist and tried to start a fight.

Yet, through the mini-tiffs and disagreements, we—save for a few bona fide jerks—are mostly a tight group who work together, rage together, and have awesome discussions together. I would not have met most of these people through my normal interactions, and that’s why I love being a Catering wench. We’ve learned so much from one another, and that at least makes us a little less ignorant than before.