I remember how much I wanted to join a sorority the summer leading up to my first year at college. I remember how I was groomed my whole life by the culture around me to follow the defined path. I remember how little I prepared for rush week relying on my 18 years of prior experience to carry me. I remember the fresh perfume scent drifting through the doors as I heard the door song for the first time. I remember feeling like I found a home, finally. I remember the moment I first felt alone among thousands. And the day I left- I remember that most of all.
They say once you join a sorority, you’ll have sisters for life and meet the friends who will be in your wedding. Unknowing at the time, when I was growing up in south Alabama there were no classes on proper southern etiquette; there was life. Say “yes ma’am and no ma’am” “yes sir, no sir”, “Modest is hottest” “she’s getting’ too big for her britches” “bless your heart” “I’ll pray for you”. These were the phrases were more than southern sayings, they were principles which shaped me and guided me through recruitment. Before ever thinking about a sorority, I was a wild child. I rarely cared what other people thought of me, I was strong headed, confident, and sexy. I loved posing like a Victoria’s Secret model and being the one bold enough to do it in my small town. When I was sent away to a private southern Baptist school, I stood out. I thrived on being an outsider, a public-school person in a private school. I remember the day I took the Christian school girls to Victoria’s Secret for the first time. It was a place I’d grown up in. They were anxious and nervous, and I was at home. So, when I was finally a senior watching my older peers discover sorority life, I realized that would be my next step in life.
Senior year I tried to change, or grow up, in preparation for sorority life. Every day after I registered for fall recruitment, every moment was planned and calculated. I bleached my hair for the first time and I tanned more than ever before, I started caring if what I was wearing was knock-off or brand name. I suddenly got involved in extra curriculars and philanthropy. Then the final grooming stage had begun; with the end of senior year coming round everyone was so sad it was ending. The girls of my graduating class said more “Hey girly”‘s and “I’ll miss you so much!” than in our past 4 years together. It wasn’t just that high school was ending, it was that the next stage crept upon us, and there was always the possibility of us ending up on the same campus, or the same sorority, or dorm building. For three months summer drug on and the anticipation built from within. Boxes piled high in my closet and old childhood mementos found their way in my dorm room at the end of summer.
It was the second week of August 2019, the first day of open house, Monday. The first house on my list was a house I’d never heard of. As I stared up the columns of the grand mansion encasing the raised front porch, I felt like I was in a romantic castle that I’d dream of spending my years in. Walking through the marble mansion, bright pink accented each room. The girls matched in the exact same shade of pink on their dresses laced with sweet perfume and loose curls. I felt so beautiful among them in that beautiful place. I felt like this would be for me, a step in my journey for my life. I would begin my life as my own, no longer the collective I grew up with but now choosing my collective for my path. How beautiful my life would be, I thought as I returned to the house day after day. Among other houses, this one captured my heart and soul beyond. Every day I was invited back I felt more belonging. On that final day as screams filled my ears and adrenaline in my veins, I read “The Sorority of ** cordially invite you to join in our sisterhood”. My heart exploded, I opened my mouth to scream in harmony with the hundreds of other dreams that had just come true. I did it! I DID IT! I wanted something and I got it! I am accepted and I belong in this environment of beauty and finery!
The first night we had a sleepover in the house and I met my best friends, my group. I found people who I’d never met before but were now my friends for life. Week after week I dove headfirst into this new lifestyle for myself. Each week was so different yet so scheduled. Mondays we were at Gorgas doing homework, Tuesdays fraternity boys came over for dinner, Wednesdays were for date parties, Thursdays we went to the fraternity house, Fridays- Fried Fridays and more fraternity houses, Saturday fraternity houses in the daytime (dartys). Each day dinner at the house somehow fit in with the gym (which I’d never gone to before then), and shopping was spontaneously all the time. There was always something to do. Philanthropy events every now and then gave me pride for the foundations of my sorority; Girls Support Girls was our philanthropy. This philanthropy I believed ruled my sorority’s culture over anything else. Week after week I grew closer with my friends, I became more attached to my new life. With every day passing my reality was setting in stone.
Enter my significant other at the time. To a young impressionable 18-year-old with daddy issues this muscular, dominant, 25-year-old with long curly hair was everything I thought I needed at the time. No matter how many boys I casually dated at school, I still said his name accidentally with the frat boys. I wanted to add to my new life. I had achieved this lifestyle and now I wanted a significant other to match it. I chased this man for months, all the way to a wedding of his friend’s where I drunkenly professed my love for him and unknowingly started my porn career. He at the time had already started shooting adult content without my knowledge. My porn career began the day I told him I loved him and would do anything for him.
Now, I know what you’re thinking. “That’s not very independent, strong woman of you to start porn for a man, to chase a man even”. I know, I know but look- in all of my years I thought I knew what true confidence felt like but I was wrong. I always faked it growing up. I’d pick at my nails enacting self-sabotage, I’d pretend to be strong and confident in myself but it was never for me. It was always for everyone else watching me. I realized this as I came all over him, flinging my hair back with sexual design and rocking my hips with power and focus, that I had in fact never felt confident in myself for myself, until this moment. Something awoke in me that day as I watched the footage over and over. I listened to my moans and studied my body as it danced in bliss. This was who I was. This was who I was meant to be. I found true confidence in myself. I felt caressed by true love for myself and my body as I saw what I was capable of. I realized my lust for this feeling would never go away, not after tasting true freedom and passion in myself.
Months later after filming a few videos and gaining millions of views we realized this could actually work. Plans were made to move in together and shoot content that summer and I was getting all that I wanted. I was initiated into my sorority, I would be moving in with this man I was in love with, I gained a new confidence for my body, and I was getting rich doing it. I began dancing in the mirror watching my body curve and tremble from my movement. I fell more in love with myself as every day passed. I would to slide my fingernails across my body awakening my senses and bringing drive into me. I began to feel like a powerful woman in every essence. However, the rule in my life is Karma is real and she always comes around. Some people I had wronged during my little wild phase came back to bite me. In the beginning of my second semester my sorority was emailed a link to what I had been doing online with a message clarifying it was me. In my first meeting with members of the exec, the narrative was obligation based. Did I know that my body was trending on Pornhub, was I aware of the vile mistrust my boyfriend had done to me, was I okay? Over trusting and overconfident in my sisterhood, I set the record straight. I immediately told them I had in fact willingly made the video in question out of my own free will and rambled on about how confident I felt in myself for the first time ever. I, without question, shared my new love for myself and this art I was creating with my body. I guess I rambled a bit too long because when I was done their faces were blank, their mouths almost touched the marble floor below us. Without raising any alarms or alluring to the truth of what was going on inside their heads, I was dismissed. As I left the house that afternoon, I gleamed with excitement and pride. I called my boyfriend and told him he was wrong to judge my sorority so quickly! I knew my sorority would support me, and I was so proud of my sisterhood, I was proud to be a part of a collective that was progressive and feminist. I was different from the straight and narrow, I was different from the typical blonde southern girl in my chapter, and my sorority supported me for it.
Whispers began to sing through my chapter, glances burned through the back of my head in class. My new passion was being passed around like a joke among my sisters. My big sister began to pull away, my once best friends were gathering without me. Collective events I used to find at the center of my life I was now scratching to hold onto. My weeks were no longer filled with events and friends, I now sat alone in my dorm wondering what I had done. Was this all worth it, did I just loose everything I ever wanted as soon as I had it?
As I twiddled my sweaty, nervous thumbs in the grand foyer of my sorority house, I waited anxiously for my official executive meeting with my chapter representatives. Uncertainty coursed through my spine as the familiar smell of perfume and glamor drifted through the house. My eyes anxiously darted around the house as a timer ticked inside of me. One tick, the grand crystal chandelier, two ticks, my once friend’s freshly painted fingernails drug on the elegantly long staircase handrail that led from the balcony of the second floor to the base of the first floor. Her eyes met mine for a brief second, butterflies filled my stomach. This was the first time I’d see her in weeks, maybe she’d talk to me, maybe she’d listen and understand my situation as a friend would. Three ticks, the hissing of the espresso machine whirred over the sound of small conversations academically tuned into the future careers of my sisters. My eyes darted back to the staircase now empty and my friend nowhere in sight. Four ticks, exec members released the door from the private foyer, great intimidation flew out of the room and surrounded me like flames escalating a great forest fire. Five ticks, “River, we’re ready for you”.
Girls Support Girls. That’s what our philanthropy was, that was what we were supposed to exemplify. How was this girls supporting girls? This was girls calling other girls lesser than for their career choices, girls not even recognizing growth and well-being among their sisters, girls who judged girls. As I steadied my breathe and fixed my posture in front of the seven woman who would be my judge and jury, I rehearsed my speech in my head. I would explain how much I loved the sorority and how I was never trying to intentionally hurt the house’s reputation. I would tell them how true feminist would support my decisions and my courage. I anticipated the questions they may ask and what kind of responses I’d respectfully give to them. But as the first question was asked, I realized this was no hearing to determine my fate. It had already been determined. My sisters had already decided what a “whore” I was and what damage control to do in order to scrub me from their reputation. “How could this type of film ever represent women in a positive light” “How could women be empowered by this” “How dirty do you feel showing everyone your body”. The questions were not questions of understanding, there were of conviction. I realized then that their version of Girls Support Girls was not the same as mine. They would support girls for financial gain, political gain, popularity, opportunities, a better life, a better group of investors and charity donors. No they did not support girls, they had their own game going on and I would not play this one. My once dream state home had become a shadowy nightmare, girls who did not support girls, restrictions and limitations on individual expression. This was no place for me anymore, it might have never been. However, this was a necessary path. As I finished giving my speech to a room that felt as cold and empty as a walk in freezer, I dared to bring my eyes to meet my president’s. I saw how little I truly would fit into their world, how no matter how hard I tried to be apart of it I never would. I needed to go through this experience in order to be more confident and comfortable with myself. I realized I had spent my whole life following the leaders and never really being true to myself. I was tired of caring what others thought of me, I was ready to dance to the beat of my own drum, for real this time, no cleanup after I was done. This time I would be myself unapologetically, I would live my life for myself and follow my own path, no matter how far I danced in the other direction. I wouldn’t let anyone else’s expectations or limitations hinder me. I wouldn’t have learned how to be who I am today without realizing how much passion I can hold for myself after years of being locked up by others.
Mystic River 