<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">January 2024</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">To the girl I was 3 years ago, and to all those who proceed her, </span></p>
<p> ;</p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">By now, it’s been a few months since the festivities of bid-day. Anyone and everyone from sophomore girls to senior boys lining the block outside The Boot, as hundreds of freshmen girls run from the LBC to the varying residences of their new sisterhoods. Without getting into the statistics, it’s important to preface this with the fact that an overwhelming amount of freshmen who enrolled in the sorority recruitment process this year were either dropped from the process, or withdrew by choice throughout the week. A large percentage, larger than usual, of the girls who eagerly signed up to join an organization of girls who would infiltrate their lives and shape their college experience, would be mourning this very idea on bid day, wondering where they went wrong. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">I suppose this is where I should establish some credibility in writing this letter. I am a senior girl here at Tulane, and I, myself, was going through the rush process this time three years ago. Not to give away the ending, but it didn’t go very well. I was finishing my makeup, proudly looking at my reflection in the mirror with wide eyes and high hopes for all of the friendships and events that would lie ahead after this day. I answered my phone abruptly to be formally greeted by a man on the other line, a member of the Panhellenic Council, who would proceed to coldly inform me that because I had single preferenced a sorority the night before, I wouldn’t be getting a bid. “You can try again next year,” he said, before unapologetically hanging up the phone. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Flash backwards to the fall of my freshman year; 2020. The pandemic had embedded itself in society as we knew it, and the life I built for myself here was undoubtedly molded around its presence. Though I had always been quite the social butterfly, I never did intend on rushing. I thought sororities were stupid, and this was part of the reason I loved Tulane upon touring. In the two tours that I went on, neither tour guide was in a sorority, and they blatantly stated, “being a part of Greek life really does not matter here.” By November of my first semester, however, it became apparent that every single one of my friends would be rushing. Of course, as easily influenced, naive freshmen girls are, I was quickly persuaded, and figured I’d at least give it a shot. Rush schedules, accompanied by what to wear on each day were sent around, and I bought hundreds of dollars worth of new clothing that would only be seen from the chest up on my zoom camera, as rush was entirely virtual. In all honesty, I have heard tales of rush that are far more harsh than mine. Some girls are dropped entirely on the first day, others withdraw from the process out of pure disappointment. The morale was high in my case until the very last day, when I was left with two sororities, both of which I did not feel I belonged in. Out of attempting to give a spot to someone else in the sorority I resonated with less, I single preferenced, or in slang terms, “suicide rushed,” which I came to later find out is one of the worst decisions a PNM could make. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">After receiving the aforementioned unapologetic call, I tried my best to brush it off. I walked across the hall to my best friend’s room as she got ready for bid-day, and laughed it off as I informed her of what had happened. Shortly after, when the girls&#8217; side of the hallway became a ghost town, I walked to the nearest convenience store that wouldn’t ID, bought two 12-packs of variety white claws, and drank myself into oblivion with a bunch of boys who hadn’t yet been pledges. Naturally, I cried for a few hours, but then told myself that it wasn’t that big of a deal. Unfortunately, I’d come to find out that it was.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">As the semester went on, I noticed that almost every girl I met would immediately ask me, “What sorority are you in?” Though I did my best to play it cool and keep the pained look off of my face, my response, “Oh, I’m not in one,” ended the conversation almost every time. I would love to pretend that this didn’t affect me for more than that initial semester, however, my honesty is an essential part of the reason I decided to write this in the first place. Not being in a sorority, paired with explaining this to every single person I met, deeply affected me. My best friends were all meeting new people in their respective sororities, and as much as they would tell me that it really didn’t matter, I knew they were just being polite. I think of myself three years ago, getting back from Reily to hear my roommate’s computer blaring with this week’s chapter meeting, hearing about all of the exciting things coming up, that I outwardly wished so badly that I could be a part of. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Eventually, freshman year ended, and sophomore year commenced. Though sororities weren’t my main focus anymore, I can hands down say that this year was the worst of my life. Before coming to college, I was never an insecure person. I was confident in who I was, and never doubted that I belonged in whatever room I walked into. After this rejection, which was one of the biggest of my life thus far, I found myself feeling more insecure than ever. When walking to class, I worried about who I’d run into and if I’d say the right things to them. Going out brought me absolutely no joy, though I was used to being the life of the party. It wasn’t only a feeling of not belonging in a sorority, but an ever consuming feeling of not belonging </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">anywhere.</span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;"> Because I felt so small, I made myself even smaller. I subconsciously started believing that I was not a person worth meeting, I did not fit in at this school, and I felt further than ever from the bubbly girl I had been just one year ago. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">I don’t want my readers to think that I am blaming the shittiest year of my life on not being in a sorority, as that would be a bit ridiculous. But this initial event triggered such a dramatic change in my character, and it was apparent to everyone. I’ve seen it said many times that when a girl falls in love with herself, the world falls in love with her, too. I’ve seen many cases of unrequited love, many of which I’ve unfortunately been a part of, but this was by far the worst. My reflection and I were bitter strangers, and everyone around me quickly caught on. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">The summer after my sophomore year, I was absolutely convinced that Tulane was not the place for me. I begged my Dad to take me on a college tour in Vermont, where I spoke with admissions officers and began essays that started with sentences like, “It is different to be among a group of people, than of them.” At the end of the summer, I left for Florence, where I would be spending my semester abroad. Surrounded by new people, in an entirely new place, I was forced to return to my raw form. I walked through the streets of that city with an entirely new disposition. Within my first hour there, on an exploratory first walk, I smiled at a middle-aged man on the street. He stopped me and said that I made his entire week- “people don’t smile at strangers like that anymore.” Small encounters like that fueled my outgoing, unapologetically authentic nature to resurface. I remembered that I, along with every other human being on this Earth, has an unrepeatable magic that is all my own. I had been minimizing this for so long, shrinking myself, and losing my passion for life over an insecurity that shouldn’t have had such power. Over the course of these few months, I remembered all of the things that made me who I am, and I embraced them. Suddenly, the UVM application hadn’t been opened in months, and I couldn’t wait to get back to Tulane. When I got back, after the initial first few days of an impending sense of doom and intense social anxiety, I knew that I was right where I belonged. This was my school, I came here for a reason, and there was no universe in which I did not return. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">And before I get ahead of myself- no, I am not saying that spending four months in Europe is the only remedy for feeling insecure. I am lucky enough to say that it helped me, but this is not at all my prescription. A change in your atmosphere is a small thing, as it is just as possible to be at odds with yourself in a foreign country, as it is in a dorm room in New Orleans. No matter where you are, finding something to be passionate about, having something that is entirely your own, is absolutely vital. Being authentic to yourself and your needs, and being the greatest friend to yourself, is what I’ve found to be essential in any kind of healing process. Do not wait until your junior year to realize that you are special. To realize that this form of validation is absolutely replaceable, it is </span><i><span style="font-weight: 400;">such</span></i><span style="font-weight: 400;"> a small thing. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Though past bid days were nowhere near the best of my life, two weeks ago, I had a much different experience. This year, I went to the Boot with my friends and saw everyone for the first time since before break, as freshmen simultaneously ran by. All I could feel was gratitude for the way things worked out these past few years. Along with this, however, I felt the strong urge to share my experience with all of the girls who are in the exact same position as I was 3 years ago. </span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">I’ve always been a major advocate of the idea that everything happens for a reason, I truly do believe in the universe. Looking back at my college career, I can think of several reasons that I wasn’t meant to be in a sorority. Though I’d like to think that being in one wouldn’t have dismantled my sunny disposition and outgoing nature, eager to meet whoever came my way, I can not say that this is for certain. As freshmen, we tend to have this hungry nature. We knock on each other’s doors, and strut through the dorm hallways with the confidence that only the abandonment of an old life, paired with the persual of a new one, can bring about. This is fleeting for most, I was displeased to find out, as once we settle into our “permanent” friend groups, the desire to meet people different than us dissipates. Now, I view this “rejection” as more of a redirection- one that has made me more forgiving and understanding, at that. I never saw myself as a judgmental person before, but the vulnerability that comes with any kind of rejection or disappointment reinstates the idea that disregarding another person due to one small, superficial detail would be absolutely unfair. If this experience has taught me anything at all, it is to accept people holistically for who they are, and see every single person that you meet as a potential addition to your life, regardless of the varying company they may keep.</span></p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">Life must be lived forwards, yet can only be understood backwards. For all of those who can relate to this letter, I urge you to remember that this is only one small redirection. Allow yourself to feel sad, but not forever. Do not let this ruin your time at Tulane, as the transient nature of your college years has a cruel way of sneaking up on you, and you will come to mourn them sooner than you could ever anticipate. One day, three years from now on bid-day of your senior year, you too will analyze the events of your life in retrospect, and understand that you were exactly where you needed to be. </span></p>
<p> ;</p>
<p><span style="font-weight: 400;">&#8211; Katie</span></p>
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<div class="wp-biographia-container-top" style="background-color: #FFEAA8; border-top: 4px solid #000000;"><div class="wp-biographia-pic" style="height:100px; width:100px;"><img alt='' src='https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/?s=100&#038;d=wp_user_avatar&#038;r=g' srcset='https://secure.gravatar.com/avatar/?s=200&#038;d=wp_user_avatar&#038;r=g 2x' class='wp-biographia-avatar avatar-100 photo' height='100' width='100' /></div><div class="wp-biographia-text"><h3>About <a href="#molongui-disabled-link" title="Katie Ciulla">Katie Ciulla</a></h3><p></p></div></div><!-- WP Biographia v4.0.0 -->

Bid Day Blues
Feature Image via Magdalena Saliba