From the outside looking in, one may see a group of four pretty girls walking across sorority quad in Lulu Lemon leggings, white Converse, t-shirts and hats covered in letters and the oh-so-chic Vineyard Vines bags: aka the uniform.

Yes, they might be talking about the cute boys they met at last night’s social and who’s in charge of getting everyone a date for this weekend’s date party, but little does one know, these girls are probably wearing only one article of clothing that actually belongs to them. The one on the right stayed up all night helping the one in the navy hat study for her economics class that she aced last semester, and the blonde stood up for the one in the sweatshirt last night at Chipotle to the girls who decided to gossip about her ex-boyfriend. 

It’s a known fact, bows over bros…always.  A sorority is so much more than finding a frat daddy and getting a t-shirt from the best Gatlinburg weekend. It’s so much more than the stickers on the laptops and the cute bid day t-shirts. A sister is someone who, I kid you not, does not judge you whatsoever. 

The best thing about my letters is that they gave me two hundred sisters. They gave me two very special sisters named Big and Grand-Big and 62 sisters who I get to swap shoes and scarves and dresses and purses and anything you might find in a mall or grocery store with. 

Three letters gave me guidance, love, cramps from laughing too hard, wet shoulders thanks to stupid boys, and the drive to want to be someone better, someone more like a little bit of each of my--you guessed it--sisters. I didn’t realize it at the time, but this is why I rushed. For the moments when my friend says, “why would you order that dress when you can just wear mine?” For the moments we pee our pants laughing comparing our fears the back of the Playtex box gave us. For the moments when ten girls drop their homework and pile into your room for cookies and a viewing of The Fault in Our Stars (stats can wait, right?). 

Rushing isn’t about tiers or t-shirts, it’s about little moments with your sisters who genuinely care for you and will come running whenever and to wherever you may need them. Girls, please don’t rush because you want to walk around campus in t-shirts and to tell people you’re in a top tier srat. Don’t rush for the parties and the boys. Rush for the little things that really aren’t that little at all.