“If the house burned down tomorrow, would you still want to be part of their sisterhood?”
It’s a question I was asked before the second day of my sorority’s recruitment four years ago.
A Greek mentor who helped during recruitment asked this of possible new members as house tours were about to begin.
Delta Zeta Sorority may not have been new in 2015, but the new three-story building at the corner of Elm and 7th Streets was.
They asked this question in the hopes of teaching that the house is just a structure we live in, but our sisterhood or brotherhood will be what creates a home.
Alex Brizee | Argonaut
So if you asked me does a house make a home, I would say it doesn’t. Because a house isn’t a home and a home isn’t a house.
If Delta Zeta was just a house, all you would see is four walls, three stories and a roof. There’s so much behind those walls, there’s laughter, tears and happy memories.
Every tear was not always a cheerful one. Being Greek doesn’t mean every moment worked perfectly, but it’s a commitment someone makes to strive for excellence in their lives with people just as excellent.
My chapter did not always have a shiny new house on Greek Row. We started in the residence halls like many students and other organizations. We had our foot in two doors: Greek life and residence life.
Now, I never lived in Wallace, but I was the first pledge class to live in our new house. Once we got the gleaming new house, we become a sisterhood — we were one.
It’s been four years since I decided to call Delta Zeta my home and I have watched our chapter grow, with no active members left of the ‘Wallace days.’ We still hold the values of sisterhood over the materialism of a new house.
I remember giving house tours to other chapters on campus just because they wanted to see our polished new house. The most exciting detail? “A breathtaking third-floor bathroom.” It got old, fast.
But that’s not what makes us friends or even family.
We’re women who hide toy dinosaurs all over the house, who race to the first floor at the words of free cookies in the dining room and most importantly women that have not only supported each other through all our success, but held each other when it felt like our hearts were going to shatter.
I never thought that I would call myself a sorority woman.
I’m glad I stuck with it. It means I have a voice with meaning when it comes to issues like this. The big house is not the best part. The four walls for any organization to call home is not what makes it a home — it’s the people.
So, if I was asked the same question I was asked four years ago, I would still be so proud to call myself a Delta Zeta — with or without the shiny new house on Greek Row.
Alex Brizee can be reached at [email protected] or on Twitter @alex_brizee