I was that girl in high school who decided she would never join a sorority. I was that girl who thought that women in sororities only cared about partying, boys, and clothes.
After seeing movies like Legally Blonde and House Bunny, which depict the women in their chapters as one-dimensional objects, I felt that joining a sorority would prevent the world from seeing all of me: my intelligence, my passions, my advocacy, my desire to leave the world a bit better than how I found it. I had shit to do. I’m pursuing a major in Biochemistry and am applying to PhD programs to become an independent scientist and researcher. I didn’t want to be caricatured into a typical blonde sorority girl obsessed with clothes (because I was blonde, and still do love clothes).
But when I came to Linfield, and I found Alpha Phi, I realized that some of these women were exactly like me- and some weren’t. Some were very sporty, some were very academically focused, and some were very passionate about community service. And, despite myself, I really liked them. I liked talking to them and laughing with them. I realized that my own fear of being objectified and caricatured (because I’m a raging intersectional-feminist and social justice advocate, obviously) was weaponized by patriarchal institutions to do just that: pit me, a woman, against other women.
The truth about being a woman in STEM, specifically a very feminine woman in STEM, is that people tend to underestimate you.
There is a struggle to find a balance between being masculine enough to be considered competent but feminine enough to be likable. Many people attribute lack of diversity in STEM to pipeline issues, but there is also a large contribution by biases that exist within the current field. Within a male-dominated field, women are pit against other women in pursuit of validation of the very men that dominate the field. Some women who have had to “go through hell” to get to where they are, make sure that younger women do too. Even as the number of women in the field rises, we still see pay inequity, barriers to access, lack of female mentors, and both structural and cultural barriers continue to exist.
But it doesn’t have to be that way. Being part of a sorority taught me the importance of female friendships, of navigating insecurities, and overcoming the woman-vs-woman mindset that we’re socialized into. It taught me that women can exist in spaces where they lift each other up, rather than tear each other down. Like the messages from Legally Blonde and Miss Congeniality, (which have their own problems- these shows are products of a time in which female success was still seen through shallow, gender-binary lenses), femininity can be a strength, it doesn’t have to be a weakness.
There are many extremely valid reasons to not want to join a sorority, but there are many chapters that are challenging the stereotypical sorority culture. Alpha Phi’s Theta Alpha chapter at Linfield University is one of them. In Alpha Phi, I have had the opportunity to connect with other women in STEM who share the same passions that I do. There is something so special about surrounding yourself with women who feel empowered within their fields, especially fields like STEM, wine, and business, that have been historically dominated by men.
Alpha Phi was started by a group of ten women who, in the face of a college that was heavily exclusionary to women, decided that they deserved a voice, too.
The creation of Alpha Phi is a tale of perseverance, and perhaps surprisingly: of feminism. Alpha Phi was a place created by women, for women, a challenge to the exclusionary male clubs that existed at the time. Whether the ideals of feminism (specifically intersectional feminism, which has changed over time) is still integrated into widespread sorority culture remains a discussion for another time.
But Linfield’s Alpha Phi, with values-based recruitment and continued development of diversity and inclusion efforts, understands the importance of having spaces for people to nurture their identities. I didn’t realize, before joining Alpha Phi, that there was a space for me to be a woman and a scholar and a leader, and even someone with a queer identity.
Being in a sorority forced me to rethink how I approach femininity, specifically in the context of these multiple identities. I believe that we all have the power to leave sorority life a bit better than how we found it, and by doing so, maybe we can help our future professional fields change, too.
The isolation I felt as a woman in STEM juxtaposed to my participation in Alpha Phi ignited my passion for accessibility and inclusivity, prompting me to develop engagement projects looking at inequities in STEM. I realized, through these engagement projects, that it was possible to be a top science scholar and a force for social change.
I realize that my experience as a woman in STEM is not unique. I want to show girls that it is possible to be a top science scholar and still be feminine; and that they can be smart and still be goofy and have fun; and that they can have multiple passions, such as my passion for STEM, my love of clothes, my feminine, and queer identities, and my passion for the violin. I hope to help pave a path of inclusivity within STEM and use these experiences to help other women navigate STEM culture, too. And in these pursuits, I know that I have girls who will have my back every step of the way.
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