I Was a Sorority Girl

I joined a sorority for an unlikely reason...

I’m trans masculine. Prior to 2017, I identified as a woman. Although I never felt comfortable in the role of woman, which is a story for another day, I did my best to play the part. While at university, I initially joined a sorority with the hope of having my first sexual experience with another woman.

Growing up I was the token tomboy out of all the girls in my class. I went to a small catholic school where there was one class for each grade. Out of all the tomboys in that school, at that time, it’s safe to say they’ve all turned out to be lesbians and/or queer. I played little league with the boys where, although I felt at home, I knew I was different and didn’t quite belong. In 4th and 5th grade I played basketball on the girls team of my school where I often felt so out of place. They were girly and femme. They worried about their hair, how their uniforms looked, and gossiped about boys. I worried about winning, and the fact that I was overweight and more masculine, looking nothing like the other girls.

I tried to fit in with them. I even attended one of my teammates sleepovers. We drank cans of her father’s beer, Old Style, which I didn’t care for at the time. And they took sexy pictures with disposable cameras in one of those 1970s peacock wicker chairs to give to their boyfriends or boys they were trying to seduce. This was the mid 1990s. I fell asleep early, out of boredom, while they did their thing. I was never invited to another sleepover or hangout. In a way I was relieved. But a part of me was hurt, knowing I wasn’t one of them nor would I ever be.

During the summer, just before my junior year of  high school, I lost over fifty pounds. I worked out religiously and ate less than I should have. I became somewhat anorexic. But I had a shape, curves. Although a size 11 by then, I could finally fit into cute shirts and pants. I could look somewhat girly, no longer that tomboy. I was encouraged to by my mother and friends, telling me how good I looked. It was felt nice to know I finally looked good to them despite something still missing within. But even then, I was still a jeans and t-shirt type. The girl clothes felt like a costume on me. It was all pretend. And I didn’t feel like that good an actor.

This continued into college. I had first attended community college. After obtaining my associate degree, I went onto the university. It was the early days of Facebook, when it was just for college kids. And I had seen old friends from my grade school days were in a particular sorority. A Latina based/multicultural sorority. I didn’t even know these had existed until then. It seemed fun and cool, different than the typical white sororities I had only known of.

I wanted to fit in, to make friends at the university since I didn’t know anyone there. And I wanted to kiss another woman. From what I’d seen on TV/film and in stories I’d heard, a lot of the time sorority girls would get drunk and make out with each other, sometimes doing more than just kiss. I was looking for my sorority “spaghetti girl” — a girl who is straight until you get her wet. I saw this as my opportunity. As a way to explore my queerness, while, also, making friends of course.

My dumb ass didn’t stop to think that it would have been easier to join an LGBTQ organization. I didn’t necessarily consider myself a lesbian or bi at the time. I didn’t know who or what I was. I didn’t know where to turn to for answers. So, Idid the next best thing, I joined a sorority.

To my chagrin, my sorority sisters were not like the typical sorority girls I had imagined, which was a good thing. I didn’t have to act as girly or femme as I would have in other sororities. But I still had to pretend, to perform when around them. Maybe that’s why I don’t like acting. I’ve been doing it the majority of my life.

For our probate show, my line sisters decided on a cute heeled boot, a cutesy white buttoned shirt with a pink belt that tied around our stomachs and tight black pants. And the super girly lines sisters decided we’d all get French tip nails. I had never gotten my nails done before. I never got them done again after that.

Lucky for me, I didn’t have to continue to act as femme as that day. Sure, I’d have to wear my heels, cute tops, and paint my face with makeup for a few hours several nights a week whenever we went to the clubs and bars to party. My feet killed me after an hour or two, and it was always hard to dance in. But, I was having fun with my sorority sisters and didn’t lose hope that I’d get to make out with with a woman sooner than later.

Early on I fell in love with one of my sorors, who eventually become a best friend of mine. I found her attractive the first day we met. But nothing came of it. I had often wished she would make a move, because I was too afraid to make a move for fear that our friendship would end. Our friendship eventually did end when she moved away and we lost touch. Another soror told me people thought the friend and I were together, secretly a couple. It just wasn’t in the cards.

After months of no success, I had learned that one of my sorority sisters I was living with was secretly messing around with another woman. She had a boyfriend but was messing around with this woman she met in a class who had boyish looks. One night they went to the gay club with two other sorority sisters, one of them being the bestie I was crushing on. I was jealous I wasn’t invited. That could have been my opportunity to get that kiss. I could have blamed it on the alcohol. Or the gay nightclub. Or both.

Although I didn’t get to make out with any women during my sorority years, I found out that two of my line sisters did. Some of my line sisters and I had went to a fraternity house party. I left early out of boredom, or maybe it was because I had to get up early for work. Later, one of my sorors told me that two of my line sisters were drunk and ended up making out with each other in the middle of the party. I was so mad. That could’ve been me!  If only I hadn’t left that part early. If only I hadn’t been too scared to make a move… If only.