BlogHer was this past weekend, and although the thought of attending this conference terrifies me, I am still edge-of-my-seat thrilled at the thought of going next year. I can't seem to get enough of the recaps and flickr sets sprinkled around the Internet from this year. There is something so knock-you-on-your-ass fantastic about talented and strong women enjoying the company of other talented and strong women.
I've also enjoyed the exposure to new blogs through all the recapping and linkage. This week I've stumbled upon so many new bloggers who share their thoughts on real issues and real life in a very witty and refreshing way. I have to regularly resist the urge to send a mass e-mail out to all the women I've found and sort of pathetically beg, WILL YOU BE MY FRIEND? I MAKE AN AWESOME RASPBERRY COLADA, AND I'LL MAKE YOU PITCHERS FULL IF YOU SAY YES! AND I'LL BE A GOOD LINKER TOO! (I resist because I do realize desperation isn't the most endearing quality in a friend, so instead I clap my hands in the safety of my own home, while thinking: It's as if she's finally figured out how to say exactly what I've always wanted to say, except, um, well.)
There's a whole community of women who have lived and loved and fallen down and abused and been abused and hurt and cried and celebrated and, what's more, they're brave enough to share it with the world. It may not seem like much, but damn, it's huge.
One reason I am so grateful I've found this Internet outlet is because I read so many entries that inspire me to dig deep and remember something or acknowledge something or retell something that I had forgotten until the moment I came across this or that post. I feel as if I'm becoming more and more familiar with myself through the words of total strangers.
I also read posts that remind me of my own story, although with slight variations.
Today I read this. And I know what this woman went through, because I've talked to dozens of women who went through the same thing. Girls who went through it, to some extent, in my own sorority house. It pains me to read (and remember) sorority experiences such as these because my sorority experience was different, better.
I joined a sorority for the same reasons most girls do: my friends in high school were rushing, the cute T-shirts, the parties, the big houses, etc. It just looked like fun. And sometimes that's incentive enough, I suppose. Also, my mom told me I could buy new outfits for rush, and I said sign me the hell up.
It took a while to feel comfortable in that very large, very overwhelming group of women. I spent an entire year sort of awkwardly smiling my way through events and meetings, and thinking, often, What exactly am I doing here?
Then I moved into the house my sophomore year and, since I knew very few people on a friendly basis, I was paired to live with, Lauren, a girl I hardly knew. (Now, this didn't scare me, which is a testament to what an optimist I am because I was also paired to live with a stranger my freshman year of college who ended up being OUT OF HER MIND.) I instantly liked Lauren. She was cool and grounded and her laugh was about as contagious as laughs come. During rush week Lauren and I began spending a lot of time together. One night, after hours of singing and talking and standing and clapping we decided to go to McDonald's. As we were pulling into the parking lot, a car full of boys began looking at us, smiling even. I told her, "Those guys are checking us out." Then, right as I began to smile back, Lauren SLAMMED into a curb. I turned to her and said, "They aren't looking at us anymore." And then we laughed. For the next two years, it seemed.
Mike gets pretty sick of hearing me go on and on about how much Lauren and I have laughed together over the last six years. She's just an easy person to get along with. My memories of her are vast and many and most can make me smile in an instant, just by conjuring them up.
We both were on our sorority's council, as were Cherie and Crystal. The four of us soon became close.
I've never met anyone like Cherie. And I've never met anyone who is liked by, truly, everyone who meets her the way Cherie is. She was a hit at my wedding (and not just because she looked—holy shit— beautiful). Since then everyone Ive spoken to has mentioned how much they enjoyed talking to Cherie. I always think, as I nod emphatically along with them, I get to be one of her best friends. Cherie is giving and funny and original and, above all else, she's really brave. She's almost fearless, and she'll have you believing you are too if you hang around her long enough.
Crystal is the reason I'm married. She's also unbelievably witty and smart and a survivor. I watched her survive throughout the last couple of years when anyone else may not have. I thought I had something to do with that, but I think she would have been OK on her own. She's just that strong. She does what it takes, and where most people curl in a ball and try to hide from life when things get suffocatingly hard (um, me), she faces things and immediately fixes whatever is broken. And, you know, the girl doesn't complain. I don't know how that's possible, but she doesn't. She's also so much fun to drink with and eat with and, basically, live life with. When Mike and I first started dating, I asked him why he liked me (constant need for reassurance and all), and he said, "Well, I figure if Crystal likes you, you have to be OK."
I got married recently. (Have I mentioned that? Have I linked to the 8,000 pictures I have on flickr yet?) All three of these women were in my wedding. They cried with me that day. They spent money and time and energy to do nothing more than be there for me.
I know we were lucky. Not all sororities breed deep friendships the way ours did. But we also weren't alone. Many girls in our pledge class have gotten married, with their sorority sisters by their sides.
It's not all beautiful. I have fought with each of these women. We have gone significant time without speaking. We've cried. We've yelled. We've been hurt. But we've never walked away. We've never turned our backs completely, and I think that says something about the group that brought us together as much as it says about the women themselves. Our sorority itself had problems, issues, toxic people who made things hard on other not-so-toxic people. But the group as a whole was strong and incredible.
Years ago, when I moved out of my apartment in College Station, a friend of Mike's helped us pack. He was packing my 573 T-shirts when he said to me, "Why do you have so many sorority shirts?" "Because I was in one." His first response: Slow-motion look of total shock. His second: "NO WAY. But you're so normal." I laughed again, because NORMAL? ME? But what's more, his comment made me sad that there is a stereotype (a deserved one, on some level, I suppose) that sororities are running rampant with robotic, brainless, heartless women. And on my campus, these women existed, sure. But, they weren't the majority.
And it should be for everyone what it was for me. It's why sororities were formed—many of them more than a century ago. Women wanted sisterhood and service and philanthropy. They wanted ritual and something to be proud of and to be a part of, and even though that's not what I wanted when I walked through the doors for the first time, it was what I took with me when I left.
In addition to many other people I stay in touch with and am friends with, I also took with me three talented, beautiful and very strong friends who constantly celebrate my own talents, beauty and strength.
Aside from the freedom to write and post as many pictures of Molly as I want, I blog because the blogging community, to me, reminds me of the group of women I found in college: supportive and encouraging and beautiful and smart and fucking funny.
OK, but with less singing. And a lot fewer T-shirts.
(Me, Lauren, Crystal, Cherie. And Crystal's mimosa.)