Call Me Sorority Girl

This is why we don’t judge kids…

Call Me Sorority Girl

I am a “sorority girl”

I sport neon nail polish more often than I’ll admit,

change my outfit at least six times a day,

and drag myself across campus every Monday

to our weekly meeting at goddam nine p.m.

I enjoy reading dystopian books on Sundays

while listening to big band and jazz.

I tend to recite historical facts every chance I get

regardless of context, which at parties

tends to fly right over my head,

and my inebriated ego fails to understand

that the guy passed out with his head in a toilet

is in no shape to appreciate my lecture

surrounding the delicate genius that was Henry VIII.

So go ahead, call me, “sorority girl”

a term which connotes

“categorization” of a group of individuals,

and us infamous, no-good, “sorority girls”

are forever bound to this designated slot.

Define “category,”

an assortment of like objects, am I correct?

So human beings are synonymous with objects

stowed away in society’s dusty file folders, so

logically, belief in this system of categories

can manifest itself into stereotyping

othering, alienation, ethnocentrism, call it what you will-

prejudice still prevails, spanning across the globe,

and we are all part of the problem.

Power hungry robbers gained followers

by transforming the latter words

into real time action,

Hitler, Mao, Stalin, apartheid colonialists,

yes, that did happen you say,

but your ignorant policies simply pale in comparison,

so, you wanna talk categories?

I believe in conspiracy theories,

I can rap Biggie’s Ten Crack Commandments without skipping a beat

and recite line for line the concluding diner scene

in Quentin Tarantino’s cult masterpiece.

I am a “sorority girl”

no you can’t sit with us, and

you can blame society,

our identity hides within makeup bags and Pandora beads,

jumbo size Greek alphabet letters across our chests

the origin of which we conveniently forget,

yet anyone of us can chant this foreign alphabet in unison,

no matter how many skinny Martinis deep a sister may be-

for not one of us will ever forget our creed.

I AM a sorority girl,

and I wouldn’t change it for the world.


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