First, I want to say that this piece responds to an article in the April 19 issue of the

Spectator

, titled “The good of Greek: an insider’s perspective on the positive aspects of the rush process at Hamilton.”

Second, I want acknowledge how much fun I personally had during the first few months of rushing sororities at Hamilton. I was able to meet a ton of new people, forge new friendships, and have a more vibrant social scene than I was ever able to have before.

Third, I want to affirm how happy I am to not be in a sorority — I do not believe that a sorority is a social structure in which I would have been happy or have thrived.

That being said, two years ago, as an impressionable, socially insecure first-

year, being cut from the rushing process was traumatic. Having to come to terms with losing the future social life I had crafted in my head was incredibly difficult, not to mention dealing with the feelings of social and physical inadequacy that comes with being rejected by a sorority. I definitely don’t regret rushing, but I will look back on it as the time that first made me feel like an outsider here at Hamilton.

Not being involved with Greek life or an athletic team has provided me with social fluidity that I am incredibly grateful for — throughout my years at Hamilton, I’ve been able to make connections with individuals from all parts of campus and all walks of life.

But my experience is unique. Most of my other “unaffiliated” friends, women in particular, have a distinct disdain for Hamilton social life. To put it simply, if

you’re not in PBX, ATX, or a women’s sports team, you’re not particularly welcome at most of the “lightside” social-life staples, like Breakway or the Village Tavern.

But this social exclusivity is certainly not limited to the “lightside” — the “darkside” harbors the same exact vitriolic restrictions within its social scene. If you’re not part of KDO, Sig, Red Weather, or some other “darkside” group, you’re not welcome at a suite party either. As a floater, I’ve had to come to terms with this immediate hostility; if you ignore the people who will always look down on you for your lack of affiliation, you can still have fun at parties and the bars. But that’s not easy.

It’s not easy to walk into the Village Tavern and look around at the dozens of unfriendly faces. It’s not easy to walk into Milbank and feel like an outsider. Yes, you can get to a point where you say “‘f’ it” and just be your fun, independent self, but not everyone gets to that point, and not every night do you have the confidence required to project that attitude.

Some people might respond to this article with apathy; they might say, sorry you’re not cool enough, pretty enough, athletic enough, hipster enough, etc. to have been welcomed into a Hamilton society of some sort. And that’s okay, I’m not looking for pity because I don’t feel bad about being unaffiliated — I wear my independence loud and proud.

I’m writing this because, as a community, we don’t talk enough about pervasive exclusivity of our social life. We don’t talk enough about pernicious social divide between the “lightside” and the “darkside.” We don’t talk enough about the hundreds of students forgotten in the race to become affiliated.

I think it’s time we did.