I can still remember it as if it were yesterday. It was an oddly warm night in October as I marched to the site of our annual Homecoming Bonfire. I had been three times before, but this year was different. I was much more excited; it was my first year to experience Homecoming as a Greek member. Surrounded by my sisters, our fraternity partners and thousands of other students, we carried our jackets across the field and made our way to the highly renowned university bonfire — the largest hand-built bonfire in Texas.
Every year, this evening is filled with such joy and excitement. As I watched the fire ignite and cheered for our team in the "Yell Like Hell" dance competition, I couldn't help but smile nostalgically, realizing it was my last collegiate bonfire. I loved seeing all the school spirit; groups in costume, fraternities raising their flags, cheerleaders stunting in front of the fire, everyone in green and white — these are the moments my mother told me I would remember for the rest of my life. I most certainly do.
"Carry her coat," I heard behind me as we got closer to the fire site.
Like I said, I was more excited that year marching in the spirit parade as a member of a Greek organization. I had been the colonizing president for 7 months and every part of the experience had been wonderful, though Homecoming had been the most intense. With dance practices (mostly just watching for me) and float building every night, not to mention classes and officer meetings, my schedule was packed, but I enjoyed getting to know the fraternity members of our team partners throughout the preparation process. I got to know some of the new guys pretty well. I think we connected because it was all our first time with the Homecoming experience.
I remember sitting on a large tree log in the back yard one evening. In a conversation with one of the new members of a fraternity, I asked why he wouldn't sit down with me. "We're not allowed to sit on the log until after initiation. You can bet it's the first thing I'll do, sit on that log and walk through the front door of the house!" All pledges of the chapter couldn't use the front door; they had to walk around to the back. It didn't make much sense to me, but what did I know?
"Hold that flag higher, pledge."
It was always a struggle to get a good spot to see the competition at the bonfire, but I jumped on a bale of hay that had been set out to create different sections of the crowd. Behind me was one of the fraternity new members, proudly carrying his chapter colors. Every now and then I would feel the banner brush the top of my head. "Hold the flag straight, pledge," I repeated to the guy behind me. We laughed, and he raised it higher.
It sounded so harmless, yet I can still remember feeling discomforted after I said it. It didn't seem right, but "that's not hazing." I brushed it off and posed for pictures with my friends and sisters. By the end of the night, the fraternity's new members' arms were full of coats and purses. They followed their brothers around, hanging on every word, every direction. Any strange feelings I had melted away as we were handed the first place trophy. We were so proud!
Fast forward about five months. I continued to grow friendships with those fraternity men. Many of them would be sure to say hello when they stopped by the Greek Life Office where I had worked the last few months. The week after their initiation, one of my favorite new guys came by. He walked into my office and closed the door. He told me he had just got back from driving all night with two brothers to his fraternity's headquarters. "They'll be here later today; they're going to interview every member of the chapter."
I had never heard about this kind of thing before, so he proceeded to tell me the reasoning for this membership review. I was horrified to learn about the real actions that were taking place. He and his brothers were being kept in closets for hours on end. They were forced to take shots if they answered incorrectly to a question about their fraternity history. The new members performed calisthenics until they could barely move. They were kept up all night doing these things — earning their letters. The list of atrocious behaviors went on, and I'm afraid got worse. By the end of the conversation I felt sick. I feel sick as I write this now.
It never takes long for word to spread in a Greek community, especially when one of the largest chapters on campus is cut down to less than half of its members. It all became a blur as their secrets came to surface. It was my first encounter with hazing but I hadn't recognized it.
It wasn't until Mike Dilbeck came to campus 2 years later that I fully realized what had happened. As he began his speech he encouraged the audience to relate a real moment from our lives to recognize what it meant to be a bystander. I guess that's why this sticks with me so strongly; it didn't take long to remember laughing with that new member as he hoisted the flag higher. Now a Graduate Assistant for Greek Life, I hung on every word Mike said. As I learned about the barriers to intervention the reasons became clear why the new members had suffered through this. I, along with many others had been a witness — a bystander — and did nothing.
I vowed that night to never be a bystander again.
After learning the barriers to intervention it became easier to speak up. It's never a comfortable feeling, but trust me when I say it doesn't feel half as bad as not saying anything at all. I can now recognize and feel in my very core when something needs to be said. I have a physical reaction, probably the same one you get when you know something's not right. I am now a Level I Facilitator of the RESPONSE ABILITY Project and have taken the pledge to be an Every|Day Hero.
My life's motto is to leave every place better than I found it, including the people around me. I take every opportunity possible to educate others about bystander intervention and teach them about being an Every|Day Hero.
It's not just a passion. It's a conviction. And it has absolutely changed my life.
