Can an otherwise respectable student go Greek and maintain his respectability?

Hi there. My name is John. I like baseball, cheeseburgers, and going to the movies. I am a student at Rutgers University. I study political science. I am also in a fraternity. Won’t you be my friend?

It’s true. I did it. I took the plunge, and I don’t care who knows it. I went Greek, and am now a full-fledged brother in a full-fledged fraternity. No, this isn’t one of your mamby-pamby co-ed honors frats or pre-professional organizations. My fraternity comes complete with a rigorous pledging process, a big house with our letters on the front, and a reputation for throwing a wild party.

If you’ve read this far, I’ll assume that you’ve made some less-than-favorable assumptions of my character already. It’s ok; now that I’ve been a frat boy for a couple months, I’m used to the negative perception that much of the University community maintains towards Greek organizations. But it wasn’t always this way. When I first mused the idea of rushing a fraternity, I bought into the advertised benefits of a strong sense of brotherhood, an opportunity to perform some philanthropic deeds in a community that direly needed them, and a brand new social forum. And to everyone’s apparent surprise but my own, I wasn’t disappointed. I love my new brothers because they represent a socially and ethnically diverse group of individuals who accept, embrace, and encourage my own inner diversity. I’m never happier than when I’m engaged in meaningful philanthropy that rivals even the most active of on-campus charitable organizations. And yes, I have a banging time at our ragers (Frat boy slang alert! Rager (n.) \rAyj-uhr\ 1. A Party). I could never have known that the reactions from both close friend and complete stranger to my choice to join up would systematically reassign the dirty title of “F-word” from its…err…usual meaning to the even more obscene, “frat.”

I say, enough is enough. I’m tired of having to frantically re-establish my credibility with anyone in my life who would otherwise think highly of me, except that I’m Greek. Its time for the cruel frat boy jokes to shed their implicit but damning undertone of seriousness. It is time for some apologetics.

Frat myth #1: All a frat boy cares about is partying; school is a distant second, or third, or hundred-and-fifth.

I’m tempted to merely point to my own impeccable academic record and rigorous course load and move on to myth the second, but this attitude is so ubiquitous and so caustic that it warrants a more complete rebuttal. To say that a frat boy cares less about school and doing well academically is to say that a frat boy inherently cares less about his future, and indeed cares less about being able to live and live comfortably in his future, than any other student. I assure you, my brothers and I like to eat, and we like to have jobs that pay wages that allow us to eat. Someday we would all like to have careers that allow us to eat varied and plentiful foods in exotic locales. We would like to drive to eateries in expensive, fancy cars with our well-fed, well-supported families in tow. Yes, we too are success oriented, and we attend Rutgers University for the same reason you do, or did: to get an education, to better our state as we mature into adulthood.

Not to mention, all fraternities have minimum grade-point average requirements that must be met before and during a brother’s membership. How many other clubs on campus will expel their members, no questions asked, if his grades slip? Has your dormitory ever threatened to revoke your right to live there and thus render you homeless because you were failing a class? Short of those students living in honors housing, the answer is no. But the frat boy who lives in his organization’s house surely cares about his grades, and does an above-average job at his schoolwork to boot; his housing situation demands it.

Frat myth #2: A frat boy is a bitter misogynist who objectifies women and prioritizes his sexual conquests over a girl’s personality or feelings.

Here again I am tempted to point out that the proportion of my brothers in committed and respectful relationships with their significant others versus those who “play the field” is consistent with the campus average, and be done with this myth. But this false characterization crosses the line of persistent annoyance into the realm of bitter offense, and so I will debunk it more thoroughly.

I think the reason that this erroneous theory gained followers in the first place was a simple mistake-by-association. A fraternity, by its definition, is a group of men who like to get together and do “manly” things. And it’s rare for the domain of “manly” things to fail to include, among admittedly common frat activities such as football, hot-wing binges, and beer consumption, chasing skirts. But please understand: every man who has received a bid to join a fraternity and undergone the pledging process has demonstrated the strength of his character and morals to his chapter. And his chapter has, to the satisfaction of the University and the fraternity’s (inter)national organization, lived up to their stated values. And not one fraternity on campus espouses a value that resembles misogyny or the objectification of women. On the contrary; during pledging I was required to act more chivalrously than ever before, and I was raised by a mother and a father who demanded chivalrousness at all times. I don’t doubt that it is dead in much of the world, and indeed in much of Rutgers. But chivalry and respect for women is alive and well in the hearts of me and my brothers.

Before I move on, a note on the despicable tendency among some students to joke that a girl, or anyone for that matter is likely to get “rufied” and/or taken advantage of simply by virtue of attending a fraternity party. Please be so kind as to point out any person terrible enough to rufie a girl, and I will point out eighty very angry fraternity brothers who are ready to make sure that person is justly…dealt with.

Frat myth #3: Joining a fraternity or a sorority is just paying for friends.

I hate this myth. I hate it more than any other stereotype about Greek life. But I imagine I’m not even the person who is most upset that some people truly buy into this one. No, for that, I would direct you to the legion of people who could have sworn that they were friends with me before I even thought about joining a fraternity. Could have sworn, that is, until you came along and told them that the only friends I had were the ones I purchased. I am overjoyed to announce that there have been many special individuals throughout every stage of my life that have seen through my character flaws enough to make me their friend. I am even happier to say that I have retained most of these people and am today blessed with a large group of friends for whom I would take a bullet. They would do the same for me. They would be very upset with you if you said I cared about them so little that I needed to go out and buy new friends. And that was the case before I wore Greek letters on my shirts.

However, I’ll allow that often a man will join a fraternity to fill a void in his life where a close group of friends should be. And yes, it does cost a substantial fee to be a member in a fraternity. But before a man pledges a fraternity, indeed before the fraternity extends him a bid to join their ranks, a careful and complete vetting process takes place on both sides. If either party decides that the union would be anything less than a loving brotherhood, no bid is extended or accepted, and no friends are hollowly “purchased.”

In the interest of equity, I must come clean and say that there are many aspects of the frat sub-culture that alarm and disappoint me. The existence of a “frat sub-culture” in the first place is one of them. No one, least of all this frat boy, can deny that Greek life is its own beast, complete with accepted cultural norms and practices that define “frattitude.” I plan to explore the shortcomings of both Greek organizations and the University communities of which they are an inseparable part in later articles. Is pledging too dangerous? Has sex become a commodity? Do fraternities breed cliques within cliques? These are questions that merit examination.

But for now, I am content to offer this humble defense of the fraternity, and its native inhabitant, the frat boy, from their most egregious stereotypes. So the next time you see me strutting down College Ave in my letters, don’t be afraid. Talk to me, get to know me, shake my hand. I’m just like you! My name is John, and I’m in a fraternity. Won’t you be my friend?