Article by anonymous contributor

Another rush season has come and gone. This means another year of watching upperclassmen pressure teenagers into publicly crying. Another year of watching those same upperclassmen cry when the freshman who they wasted countless hours, booze and drugs “go another way.”

As I sat this year, watching these events unfold, listening to frantic conversations amongst brothers and reflecting on the same ones I had during my underclassman years, I’m left to wonder, “why do I continue to be a part of this?” 

Why, at times, do I not recognize the person looking back at me in the mirror? To answer this, I took a look back at what I experienced my freshman year at Wofford.

Nervousness coming into college is to be expected. In a small setting such as Wofford the social pressure to fit in is even more heightened. It is on this insecurity that fraternities prey.

The first semester of freshman year was, for me, akin to the love-bombing phase of a narcissistic, toxic relationship. Nearly every night of the week, texts and calls asking to come hang out poured in. Of course, I answered them, regardless of assignments and my looming 8 A.M. classes.

I do not blame myself; it felt good to be wanted. Over the course of the semester, the number of other freshmen at these events grew smaller and smaller. The fear of “getting balled” and losing that feeling of being wanted was ever-present.

It was out of this fear that I subconsciously began to conform to the expectations of those around me. I saw my alcohol consumption increase to the point where blacking out was just a normal part of a Saturday night. I brushed off sexism, both casual and blatant, while allowing my genuine relationships to fade out of neglect.

In a sense, Greek life is a microcosm of life at Wofford. A life in which conformity and social status are placed on the highest of pedestals. It is at moments like these that I am envious of those who transferred away after freshman year.

I always assumed that once I was a brother this pressure would subside, and I could finally relax. Once experiencing the rush process from the other side, I realized the only thing I truly cared about was preserving social status. Freshman were simply tools to have better parties, to attract women and to achieve the all-important “top tier” status.

In short, Greek life has never been about philanthropy or brotherhood. Sure, I have forty or so brothers, but maybe only three to four actual friends. It is instead a playground for insecure men to artificially feel better about themselves without ever undergoing any true personal growth.

I felt compelled to write this opinion piece after finally voicing my thoughts to a few close friends and realizing I was not alone in my feelings of hollowness. A fear of social suicide holds Greek life together and is what prompted me to submit this article anonymously.

For those of you in Greek life with feelings of emptiness and dissatisfaction with life, feeling as if you somehow lost yourself along the way, you are not alone. 

For those of you in Greek life attributing my thoughts to joining the wrong organization, perhaps even saying to yourself, “my fraternity is a positive, safe space that protects women and values individuality,” I only ask that you take a moment to reflect. Greek life is not without its benefits, but pretending it is not without its flaws enables the system of toxicity to continue.

It is with this blind faith that I was complicit in rampant sexism, racism and homophobia. “They’re just jokes” is a phrase I have both heard and parroted countless times. As I’ve grown older, I have realized that the phrase, “we protect women” actually translates to “we protect brothers from the negative social implications of assault.”

I resent that I can only offer my thoughts and no real solutions. I believe strongly that changes to the current system are needed; however, I fear most reading this article will come to the same conclusion as the Wofford administration: “boys will be boys.”