Blog Post Twenty One - “Why My Sorority Letters Don’t Define All of Me”

I recently joined a sorority—and I love it.

I love the sisterhood, the rituals, the shared laughs, and the warmth that comes from being part of a group of women who uplift one another. I joined because I wanted to find community, to grow into the leader I know I’m capable of becoming, and to deepen the relationships that matter most during these transformative college years.

But somewhere along the way, I noticed something shift.

It was subtle at first—a raised eyebrow, a passing comment, a half-joke that didn’t land quite right. And then, suddenly, there was a title on me. “Sorority girl.” And with that title came a cloud of stigma that followed me everywhere.

People started seeing me only through that lens, like my identity had been reduced to one decision, one label. And it stung—not because I’m ashamed of joining, but because I’m proud of who I am. I’m proud of my letters. I’m proud of the community I’ve stepped into. But it’s not all of me.

I’m not just that girl in a sorority.

I am a proud Hispanic woman. A dreamer. A passionate communicator. I’m an aspiring journalist who spends hours writing, editing, and researching how stories shape the world. I’m a media lover—fascinated by how narratives influence the way we think, feel, and connect. I’m a daughter, a sister, a loyal friend. A person who gives love unconditionally and believes in showing up wholeheartedly.

I am layered, complex, and constantly evolving. Yet sometimes, people act as if joining a sorority has somehow erased the rest of me. As if I’ve chosen sparkle over substance, or fun over depth.

But here’s the truth: I didn’t lose myself in this space. I discovered new aspects of myself—stronger parts. I found courage in standing tall, even when people make assumptions. I discovered leadership in unexpected places. I found joy in tradition, belonging, and building community as a Latina woman in a space that hasn’t always welcomed us.

And still, why the stigma?

Why must our choices be placed under a microscope? Why does one part of my story become the whole story in some people’s eyes? Why do we love putting people into neat little boxes when we know that no one fits inside them?

To those who look at me and only see the title, I invite you to look deeper.

Yes, I wear Greek letters. But I also carry generations of strength, a hunger for change, and a mind that never stops questioning, creating, and dreaming. I’m writing my own story—and it’s filled with far more than what you see on the surface.

So next time you meet someone in a sorority, don’t assume you already know her.

Ask. Listen. Learn.
You might just find she’s someone who carries much more than letters.
She carries a purpose.