Given the harsh sting of rejection so many girls feel, I don’t understand why the sororities insist on using a public forum like Facebook when they know that girls that they turned down will see those posts.
The University recently changed the policy on co-ops, making it so that those who preselect into a co-op only use their tier-three draw status. This does not at all reflect the quality of housing that those people enjoy, nor does it accurately reflect the demand for these spots that is present in the community.
It is Friday, the first night of Rush, and I have no idea what to expect. The doors swing open and the half-sung, half-shouted chorus of a song whose lyrics are peppered with Greek letters overpowers us. I step tentatively into the room, where a walkway has been formed between two lines of dancing, rally-clad girls. During my split second of hesitation, a hand blindsides me and grabs my elbow. Before I can fully process what is happening, one of the singing girls is escorting me down the walkway. Not knowing what else to do, I smile like a debutante.
When I first came to Stanford from a predominantly Caucasian suburb, I was terrified by the sheer number of Asian Americans. This discomfort stemmed from having not been comfortable with my own Asian-American identity. I am half Japanese and half Chinese, speak English at home and hold my chopsticks incorrectly. I joined the Japanese and Vietnamese cultural societies to find my inner Asian but quickly dropped out, feeling out of place.