As my professors, classmates, friends and the anonymously-libelous internet commenters who troll my articles know, I'm sometimes a contrarian just for the sake of contrarianism. So, for full disclosure: This is not a contrarian column. It's just another piece extolling rush, one of a million this month. And despite the rhetoric I've deployed in previous columns, this time around I am not railing against the concept of negative normativity as seen in rushing a fraternity or sorority, or arguing that it's just another example of forced conformity as epitomized by the ubiquitous horde delving into finance next year. To the '14s, I have no stake in persuasion this time. I just hope that you support each other if you choose to pledge don't forget who you are and don't be consumed by who you think you are becoming. Trust me, the two will never be as distinct as you are led to believe.
Most of this term I've been pretending that I'm just a bitter, jaded senior. In a few ways I guess I am. Sometimes I wonder if I could ever truly remember that unashamedly optimistic kid I was during freshman Homecoming, posing for lame photo-ops with a couple of near strangers, or the somewhat more confident sophomore I was during rush, aggressively shaking hands with 100 people that I knew practically nothing about, performing for them a vigorous pretense of deep interest. I have no regrets though. Through a spectrum of experiences, I've come to respect those strangers in unusual ways.
Despite this sense of respect, I've come to understand that Greek houses and Dartmouth at large can sometimes project an identity onto us that is inaccurate or hard to shake sometimes your house becomes who you are, not just one of the things you do on campus. I must concede that, happily or tragically, many of my most poignant experiences here have dealt with fraternity life. This fall I've been trying to come to terms with them all and with how I let those experiences become too tightly entwined with my identity. I was not ready for some of the ways I would be challenged sophomore year, but my friends from before rush and I supported each other, and so did the other 26 guys in my pledge class. Although we thought for a time that our house had changed us irrevocably, we were and are still pretty much the same, just wiser. Odds are, you won't change as much as you think you will.
That's a good thing.
And throughout my time here I've been stunned by how quickly strangers can become confidants incredibly influential people in one's life, men and women who can share triumphs and tragedies and be rattled by neither, men and women who can take great risks for each other at a moment's notice simply because they care undyingly for friendship. These bonds to each other carry us through, whether it's the engineered team building of pledging or the actual trial by fire of life itself the former is simulacrum for the latter.
I still grapple with the strange senses and responsibilities that have sprung from these bonds, Greek or otherwise. Sometimes they've felt so arbitrary as to be absurd, sometimes we can never know for sure if we've been true to ourselves but all that matters is that we are dedicated to the task and have friends backing us up. That's what makes surviving the challenges of growing here possible. If you elect to pledge, don't fool yourself, like I did, into thinking that Greek life will alter you deeply, no matter what anyone tells you and no matter how rigorous the challenges you may face are in real life or otherwise. Refuse to be consumed; refuse to be daunted.
Keep your identity intact but remember that your brothers or sisters, and friends regardless of affiliation, will be there for you without fail. In turn, you will be there when they most need it. Be true. Never let your time at Dartmouth be dictated by regret, even though you may at some point find yourself on a path that no friend can follow you down. And some of them will try. If that's the case, at least give them a good look over your shoulder as you proceed towards whatever it is you can only learn alone. To '14s pledging this term: Look out for each other. Our sense of solidarity here is the most important thing we will remember 50 years from now.
