Move over orphans with cancer — there’s a new victim in town, the Whitman frat guy. For too long my Greek-inclined fellow man and I have been met with stink eyes and persecution. This frater has had enough, it’s time to give a voice to the voiceless.
As an honored member of the most prestigious fraternity at Whitman, TKE (do I even need to say it), I am uniquely qualified to share my opinion on this dire matter. The Whitman campus decries my fellow frater and I on a number of baseless accusations. They say that frat parties are dangerous and people shouldn’t feel safe at them; dedicated sober roamers say otherwise. Patrolling the premises at all times, these sober roamers are tasked with the thankless job of caring for those that selfishly drink too much. What’s more, these sober roamers are the most devoted public servants the fraternities have to offer, sacrificing their nights for an ungrateful Whitman community.
Safety doesn’t just involve making sure people are taken care of, it also includes keeping evildoers out. Safety is an atmosphere, something that must be delicately cultivated and can just as easily be destroyed by those with malicious intent. The exhaustive fraternity blacklists ensure that those Whitman students who fulfill the requirements for the label “creep” are kept far away from fraternity functions. Said blacklists are enforced by the no-nonsense door men that keep blacklisted students as well as creepy townies out. These creepy townies have long been the scourge of Whitman house parties; it seems like paunchy middle aged men in Walla Walla have nothing better to do on a Friday night. Whether it be their gross remarks to girls half their age or their insistence to show just how insecure they are by flashing firearms, they have had an undeniable ripple effect across the Whitman party scene.
Once trusted sources like “whittiebluesclues” have lost credibility due to fears of townie infiltration, leading to a Sahara-like drought for parties to start the semester. Now more than ever we need fraternities to keep the dying party culture alive. If by some miracle you are STILL unconvinced, allow me to point you towards the nurturing and inclusive cultural environment of the fraternities.
For many, when they hear fraternity culture their minds immediately go to golf guys in fitted caps, shotgunning beers. This is a highly offensive stereotype as many frat brothers have more aesthetic self respect than to wear a fitted cap. For these fraternity sourpusses, the phrase “nurturing and inclusive” sounds like an oxymoron when paired with fraternity culture, but this couldn’t be further from the truth. Admittedly, I unfortunately cannot completely speak for the other fraternities as I am fortunately not a member of them, but I think the values of TKE likely have some overlap with the others. Love, Charity and Esteem is the TKE M.O. — that doesn’t sound so bad, right?
Fraternities are first and foremost tight-knit communities where older members can help younger ones work through challenges. I cannot emphasize enough how important this has been to my development as a human being. Sneer at the idea all you want, but the positive effect fraternities can have in shaping men is real. When I (hopefully) graduate in May, I won’t be looking back on the times I got hammered in my chapter room, I’ll be reminiscing on the visceral conversations I had with my fraters when I was at my lowest. Fraternities aren’t an excuse to drink, they’re an excuse to make meaningful relationships that help define who you are for years to come.
At a time when toxic masculinity is running rampant under the influence of figures like Andrew Tate and Adin Ross, shouldn’t we celebrate when young men are pointed in the right direction? The Whitman fraternities are far from perfect, but they’re also far from the douchebag factories they’re often made out to be.
With my preaching coming to an end I implore the Whitman community to reassess its preconceptions about fraternities. Maybe don’t immediately write off that comment a Beta made in class, or maybe even come to a frat party. I promise we don’t bite, at least TKE doesn’t.
