KB Beauvais

I'm not sure what exactly I had in mind when it came to Greek life, but this certainly wasn't it.

High school me envisioned groups of cult-like girls who paid to foster annoyingly bubbly personalities, being forced into coordinated outfits, with noses turned up at every letter that wasn't one of your own. Though these ideas didn't even get into the thick of my opinions on sororities, it would be enough to convince me not to enter college with the intent of going through recruitment-- or so I thought.

No more than a week into my freshman year, I realized what the fuss was all about and decided that maybe, just maybe, sorority life was for me. I had already gathered some rec letters (you know, just in case) and had gotten the lowdown on all of the predisposed chapter stereotypes. I'd followed every sorority on campus' Instagram account and scrolled aimlessly through them, trying to find a glisten in the eyes of the girls they pictured that I could resonate with. Let's just say, by the end of the first month, I had narrowed down my options-- or so I thought.

I spent the next few precious months going to sub mixers for the sororities I thought I stood a chance in, putting on the best version of myself, and absorbing any and all information I could about this "recruitment" thing. Others spoke of workshops and paying for someone to build them a recruitment resume, while I had exchanged cryptic emails with my dad as he attempted to help me type up the parts of my story worth telling to the faces behind the recruitment process. Needless to say, I felt under-prepared, unseasoned, and oblivious. Despite my naïvety of all things Greek, I had made friendships with girls in a couple different chapters who I admired deeply and felt wanted by, and by the time I packed up my bags to spend Christmas back home with my family, I had a good sense of where I belonged-- or so I thought.

But then, lo and behold, recruitment week rocked my world.

The Lord put another chapter on my heart-- one that I had ruled out in the beginning because I simply didn't think I stood a chance. Every preconceived idea I had was suddenly thrown out of the window and I was left dazed and confused at the fact that what I thought I wanted may not have been what the Lord knew I needed in that season of life. I was completely heartbroken and consumed by anxiety induced by the mixture of pressures from those around me, whispers through the dorms of "who's going what", and the fear of letting girls down who had spent the semester investing in me. The experience I anticipated was slowly crumbling, and I frantically grappled to keep hold of the pieces that mattered to me, attempting to convince myself that I was just imagining things and that what I wanted all along was what was meant to be.

But the moment I recognized that the right decision wasn't always the comfortable one was when my recruitment experience changed for the better. I reluctantly affirmed myself that I would not to succumb to the fear of being unknown and unfamiliar in chapters where I knew no one, especially as someone who wasn't accustomed to gaining and holding the attention of others-- and was surprised to see those unfamiliar chapters were actually receptive and inviting. It was then that I finally registered that throughout the recruitment process, I wasn't finding my identity in Christ, but in the approval of the world. I knew I wasn't as bubbly, popular, or sought-after as some of the girls I stood in line with, but I had to make a point of simply being where my feet were and loosening my grip on trying to make the process what I thought it needed to be to ensure my safety and satisfaction. I lifted my fears and insufficiencies to the Lord, finding the humility to humble myself in a time when it's so easy to be self-seeking. His power is made perfect in our weakness and our shortcomings, even in our efforts to fit the bill or play the part. There was no point in trying to manipulate things to meet my own expectations when I realized how powerless I truly was.

If I could offer any piece of advice for the girl who thinks she knows what she wants, you may very well be right. This past semester may have been the complete opposite of my experience, and if so, that's great! I admire your wisdom. But if you're the girl nodding and finding that you really resonate in some areas, don't cave in on yourself if it all doesn't unfold the way you expected it to. Expectations deny you of the possibility of simply enjoying everything that recruitment week has to offer. If we truly go through the recruitment process unselfishly, with the intention of being life-giving and to find growth through community, then comfort zones are not our home. It's always better to be pursued earnestly and graciously by a few girls who desire to know the content of your character rather than being paraded around the room by a handful of girls who simply know your name and the fact that you're "wanted" there. Recognize that, ultimately, it's not up to you, your roommate, or the girl giving you the side-eye from across the room. You will end up exactly where the Lord knows you will serve best, love well, and further His kingdom. Recruitment exposes the worst and most intense levels of our social cravings and gives us the freedom to shed ourselves of our dignity and place our whole self-worth into the name of the chapter scrawled on our bid card at the end of the week. Be completely unapologetic about who you are and find peace in the fact that decisions like this warrant growth in all areas of your life.

"And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose." Romans 8:28

What surprises most people when I share my recruitment story is that neither of the two chapters I thought I wanted and invested in the most time in throughout the previous semester were the one I ended up choosing. Through the whirlwind and heartbreak that was recruitment week, I found my home in Chi Omega after months of thinking I belonged elsewhere because it was the safe, comfortable option. Walking into the chapter room on the first day of recruitment week, I already felt that I didn't stand a chance. Every girl around me seemed as if she was talking to her long-lost childhood best friend and I immediately assumed that I was alone in my unfamiliarity. But as I took a deep breath and reminded myself that nothing was in my control, I realized that I, too, was one of those long-lost sisters who Chi Omega was after; that the bona fide kindness they showed was just something I'd never encountered before. They welcomed everyone warmly and made a point to break down walls of nerves and anxieties to truly know you by the end of the day. No one was simply discounted or looked over because her name didn't ring a bell; everyone left the room feeling sought after in some way, shape, or form-- even if it wasn't in a sorority sense. Where other chapters sought membership, Chi O was after my heart.

A community worth entering is one that will meet you where you're at, then never cease to stretch you and pour into you. Know that, somewhere, there is a place for you, even if it's not what you expect. Consider not only what you want to get out of the sorority experience, but also what you can give besides adding your name and mugshot to the composite and becoming another body to brandish with letters. Your presence matters; wrapped in endless, boundless grace, you have something to give. Come as you are, be where your feet are, and leave the place better than you found it. You were built for this.