Welcome to the “jungle”

I admit it. My taste in music is eclectic at best. Cut me some slack, though—I’m from Atlanta. Somehow, the ATL boasts the title of “hip hop capital of the world” but is conveniently located 100 miles north of some of the most twangy, country lovin’ folks around.

My musical taste, however, isn’t limited to gangster rap and the boot scootin’ tunes you’d expect to hear at a hoedown. No, I also like rock and the older, the better. So when Guns N’ Roses’ 1987 hit, “Welcome to the Jungle,” came on the radio this weekend, I blasted it full force.

“Welcome to the jungle,

We got fun ‘n’ games.

We got everything you want,

Honey, we know the names.

We are the people that can find,

Whatever you may need.

As a senior and an upstanding member of one of Duke’s nine Panhellenic Association sororities, “recruitment” (still unclear to me why we just can’t call it “rush”) and sisterhood are not new concepts to me. But to you 511 freshmen and sophomore girls who raced back and forth across campus for the past two weekends, worrying about what to wear, what to say and if that scary senior girl with the legs that don’t touch will remember you next round, I think my parallel might resonate.

Rush stuff (screw it, I’m calling it what I want) has been over for two days and for many of you, a new chapter of your Duke career has just begun. Oh, the next few weeks will be awesome. Think “fun ‘n’ games.” There will be presents and T-shirts and hundreds of Facebook friend requests from your older sisters. But sisterhood, the “jungle,” is far more complicated than giving gifts to the best d— pledge class.

First, let’s talk names. If you’re gonna be sisters, you should know everyone’s names, right? Wrong. Here I am, guilty again because up until this past Sunday, I didn’t know everyone’s name in my sorority, and I know I wasn’t the only one.

The next order of business in the “jungle” is always the “money, honey.” Don’t get me wrong. We sorority gals at Duke are lucky when it comes to funding. I’ve got friends whose parents fork over thousands and thousands of dollars each semester so that their precious little girl can remain socially credible as a member of the Gamma Chapter at the University of Whatever. I myself have paid dues for the past seven semesters. But sometimes I think paying to be social and philanthropic is a little silly.

So, why did 511 of you agree to a two-week audition to be in the “jungle,” an exclusive, relatively expensive, mentally exhausting society of girls who don’t get preference in housing? Because, like me and the more than 900 other Greek women on campus, you too have got the “disease.”

All girls want to belong to something.

I totally get it. For many girls, sororities are not the answer. Belonging to the Duke community, an a capella group, a club or an SLG is plenty, but it wasn’t enough for me and it clearly wasn’t enough for the 478 ladies comprising the largest group of Potential New Members Duke’s campus has ever seen.

Has the “jungle” provided me with “whatever I may need?” No, probably not, and I only poke fun at the system because a) I’m cynical and b) they gave me my column back. But after observing the rush process for the final time this past weekend, I want to tell everyone that despite the cattiness and the cost, the “jungle” has a lot of perks.

After three and half years at Duke, I have had more fun, done more good and felt more of a sense of belonging as a student on Duke’s campus and a member of my pledge class than I ever thought I would. Coming from a family of only one brother, I feel like the luckiest girl in the world to now have a multitude of sisters.

Again, it’s not for everyone, but it’s worked out well for me: And for all you “babies,” I hope it works out for you, too. And by the way—don’t look up the rest of the lyrics for “Welcome to the Jungle.” The comparison stops working after the first verse.

Molly Lester is a Trinity senior. Her column runs every other Tuesday.