Fourty or 50 people packed into the small smoky room. Wires from microphones and amplifiers snaked around the bands playing on the makeshift stage. Purple Christmas lights, bulbs large enough to see the filament flaming, shot surreal purple rays from the ceiling pipe above the speakers. An eclectic mix of familiar and unfamiliar people lounged in worn living room chairs or stood against fake wood paneling. Even with guitars screaming and whining through the dim, hazy space, the music held a trance-like calm quality. Watching my friend play the guitar, it was one of those times I wished I were a rock star.
Three different bands played that night. All were some indescribable combination of indie, punk, lo-fi, guitar pop and other labels I don't quite understand. The lyrics ranged from poetic to screaming, but in all of the music there was real emotional release. Perched on an uncomfortable ledge to the side of the room, an electrical outlet box jutting into my spine, I couldn't help but mentally feel the exact opposite -- completely chill, completely comfortable. I felt transported away from Dartmouth, though I never left the Panarchy basement.
Sitting there, nodding along to the music, I wondered how other people were spending their Friday night. I wondered how many people outside Panarchy's white house on School Street even realized the concert was taking place. Watching those bands crystallized one thought in my mind.
Dartmouth has a living social life outside of the Greek system.
It seems so obvious to me. Wading through the memories of social evenings past, I have to strain to remember the last time I went to a party on Webster Avenue. I do remember going to plays in the Bentley Theater, chatting in the Dirt Cowboy, going to affinity house parties and simply walking late at night around Hanover, having good conversation with amazing people. My social life has never suffered because I look outside the Greek system for my weekend entertainment.
I just don't understand when I hear it said that Dartmouth students ought to be grateful to Greek houses for providing us free beer and DJs, the sure staples of our social existence. I don't doubt they may be for some, but there are a great mass of us who wouldn't notice tomorrow if the generous flow of free beer went the way of Seinfeld. To me, Greek parties have long been re-runs, and I made a personal choice to seek out Dartmouth's lesser-publicized entertainment. Believe me, it's there.
I cringe to hear my fellow tour guides say, "Sure, there are things to do at Dartmouth outside of the Greek system. There are many Hop events and um ..." I feel frustrated when someone asks me what I could possibly be doing on the weekends in a tone that implies he or she suspects I must be sitting in my room alone. Give us some credit for the creativity and initiative we need to plan events outside the Greek system.
Sometimes it is easy to miss us. A lot of what we do is spontaneous or advertised by word-of-mouth, not officially registered or advertised on posters. And we're not all doing the same thing. I'm certain that while I was parked at Panarchy, someone was up in the Dartmouth grant hiking, and someone was roadtripping to see a show in Boston, and someone was hanging out at the Native American House. We don't have an organized non-Greek Week to show you the positive aspects of being unaffiliated.
This is not meant as a put down to the Greek system. To lash out at a social system consisting of two thousand Dartmouth students and voluntarily enjoyed by many others is a waste of energy. I am not a huge fan of the Greek system, but I think it is fruitless to vandalize houses in protest or waste any time at all on bringing it down. The Greek system exists because people support it. Likewise, creative, unusual and interesting non-Greek social events happen when people care enough to plan them and attend them. When I found myself dissatisfied with Dartmouth's easily-found Greek social scene, I looked a little bit harder and sought out the sort of activities that fit me -- even on Green Key Weekend. It takes more effort, and it leaves me without a T-shirt showing that I belong to a defined group. But in the end, I find it not only possible, but preferable.
