We sure love cruelty, don’t we? As refined and as smart and as elevated as we claim to be, we love us some cruelty. We line up to dish it out and, strangely, we line up to potentially take it.
Saturday afternoon I watched the culmination of Auburn’s bid day. My favorite youngest daughter got a bid. I watched as she ran from Neville Arena to the quad where she and her 130 some odd new best friends, whom she had never met before, squealed. Some squealed in delight. Their dream had come true. Some squealed with resignation. They didn’t get what they had hoped for, but they had to squeal. It’s what the moment required, and as I watched, my mind went to the ones that got no bid at all. Per Auburn historical trends, roughly ten percent had their phone ring and a voice on the other side essentially said, “I’m sorry. No one wants you.”
I suspect it’s no different at other campuses, especially the SEC schools, who take such pride in their Greek life, but think about these young girls, eighteen or nineteen years old, traveling off to college, many from places far away, to offer themselves up to this savage system of ranking, choosing, selecting and rejecting each other. When word got out that my favorite youngest daughter got a bid, my wife’s phone buzzed with congratulations, but some shared their stories of rejection that has never healed over thirty years. Some said they get a knot in their stomach this time every year as they relive that call. Some left Auburn and have never returned.
What is it about mankind that makes us crave ranking others, crave selecting others, and, most brutally, crave excluding others? We want to see where we stand, who we’re among, who is above and, most importantly, who is below. We take special interest at who is below. Those not worthy. Those down the list. I’m no different. I wish I were, but I’m no different.
Not long ago, a big fitness trend were events called Spartan races. People would pay money to run long distances, climb vertical walls, crawl through freezing mud, do umpteen pushups, climb ropes, and other difficult, painful, and potentially unhappy things. Some finished strong and celebrated at the end, some limped to the finish, and others well... Sorority rush is the same. These girls voluntarily throw themselves into this cruel system. Some make it through gloriously. Their squeals were genuine. Some limp through and accept a ribbon. Others get word that no one wants them, and my heart breaks for them.
Next year, new girls will line up to do it again, just like in countless years past. They’ll line up to be judged, determined worthy, picked, or cast aside, and again the year after that and again the year after that. An insatiable desire to hopefully be picked. Parents and family will cheer the winners. We’ll ignore the losers. Thinking about them makes us feel bad, and they’ll keep coming. It’s brutal and cruel, and we just can’t get enough of it.
I’m Cam Marston, just trying to Keep It Real.
