Muslim sorority offers new twist on Greek life
ATHENS: Greek letters gleamed from a satin banner hanging at the front of the room, sequins flashed on little purses, and one woman holding a gold brochure blushed crimson, trying to explain why she liked the idea of this new group. Another widened dark eyes lined with kohl, watching everyone closely. Tasmim Anwar smiled and said, with a little gush, “I am such a sorority type of girl.”
And — long before the first Gamma Gamma Chi rush in Maryland was over — a student had politely interrupted to ask if they could break for maghrib, a sunset prayer. The women, draped in dark scarves, knelt to praise Allah in a hallway at the University of Maryland Baltimore County. Forget everything you thought you knew about Greek life. These women came curious about a new kind of sorority, one that could change stereotypes of Muslim women, one based on Islamic beliefs: no drinking, no socializing with men.
Like Anwar, a freshman at Johns Hopkins University, most of the students had never seriously considered going Greek. They’ve heard the stereotypes, such as keg parties with fraternity guys and, well, that’s plenty right there. So they came to this new kind of rush, some covered head to toe in dark abayas , some with scarves pinned carefully around their heads and strappy four-inch heels, some with hair loose and jeans tight. Like so many Americans, most of these women don’t fit into any easy cultural niche; they’ve been blending and balancing all their lives.
And some wondered aloud whether this most American of college traditions might be too tricky to pull off. “I’m curious to see how that will be, that balance,” Anwar said. Greek life has changed dramatically from the days when wealthy, young white men drank gin and tonics on the verandas of fraternity houses. As the mix of students at colleges gets ever more varied, so do their campus groups.
At schools across the country, there are Hispanic, Jewish, Indian and lesbian sororities — and multicultural ones, sometimes formed in reaction to the others.
“There are a lot of ways to be Greek,” said Ron Binder, president of the Association of Fraternity AdvisErs, who said he’s seen an explosion of culturally based groups in recent years and expects that growth to continue. There isn’t, apparently, any other Islamic sorority or fraternity in the United States.
The idea for Gamma Gamma Chi started with Althia Collins, an educational consultant in Alexandria, and her daughter Imani Abdul-Haqq, who wanted to pledge a sorority in North Carolina. When Abdul-Haqq walked in with her hijab, Collins said, “everyone looked at her like she had three heads.” Collins and her daughter, who became Muslim several years ago, thought sororities’ emphasis on volunteering and leadership would make Muslim women more visible and help dispel stereotypes. And Collins, who was in a sorority in college, said she thinks the bonds are stronger and longer lasting than those formed in a club or dorm. So they dreamed up Gamma Gamma Chi, choosing letters, colours and such symbols as a waterlily, for its ability to flourish in difficult surroundings.
The first chapter recently started in Atlanta. Applications are coming in from Rutgers in New Jersey, and in the Washington area, there is interest from women out of college. And if enough students want to participate, the next chapter could soon be in Maryland, most likely starting as a regional group with members from several schools.
Not everyone likes the idea. Some places Collins has gone, hung up the green-and-purple banner, set out plates of grapes and cookies, explained the sorority — just like she did at UMBC — and no one has asked to join. The national Muslim Student Association welcomes the effort, but some members of campus chapters disapprove. “Sororities are played out to be very exclusive,” said Haleema Yahya, a senior at UMBC, explaining why she thinks Gamma Gamma Chi would be controversial.
Some people are skeptical just because the idea is new, said Misu Tasnim, a junior at Johns Hopkins. Some worry that the sorority sisters would splinter off the main Muslim student group. “And also because ‘sorority’ denotes drinking and dating and stuff,” Tasnim said, “people are not sure how it will play into the Muslim ideals.”
Or traditions. In the Muslim Student Association, “the guys have more say than the girls do, just because that’s how it is,” said Narmin Anwar, Tasmim Anwar’s sister, who introduced the sorority idea. “This would be more for the girls, to have more of a leadership role.”
Tasmim Anwar came in a little late the night of the meeting, her long, wavy hair uncovered and an “I {heart} me” T-shirt on. She wasn’t sure what to expect. It might be too strict, she thought, and a friend agreed, remembering how intimidated she had felt walking into a Muslim student group meeting not wearing hijab on her head.
Collins told the students that they wouldn’t preach but would support one another in a society that often misunderstands them. She suggested activities such as practicing public speaking and helping one another memorize the 99 names of Allah.
Like most Greek organizations, Gamma Gamma Chi wouldn’t turn people away just because they’re different — it would be open to non-Muslims as well — and it would have social events for women.
But no drinking, clubbing or hooking up. Lujain Said, whose tiny hands and big eyes peeked out from her enveloping black abaya, never considered Greek life until friends mentioned Gamma Gamma Chi. “I thought it was a great idea,” she said, “to unite more Muslim women and get rid of some Muslim stereotypes.”
Yahya said, “We should step up into the light.” For the sunset prayer, they moved into a hall of the UMBC commons building and lined up facing Makkah. An ethereal voice rose and fell in Arabic, and the rows of kneeling women rose and fell, dropping softly forward to the carpeted floor.
A couple of male students in cargo shorts passed nearby, staring. After the prayer, the women went back in the room and gathered around the table of hors d’oeuvres, meeting one another, just like any sorority rush. It reminded Tasmim Anwar of the stories she’d heard at Johns Hopkins. “My friends would go to rush events, stay up all night talking to each other, wear high heels,” she said, half wistful, half laughing at herself. “That sounds like so much fun.”
But then again, she said, sororities “have that reputation, which you hear right away.” She thought she’d have to keep explaining, over and over, why she couldn’t do this, why she wouldn’t do that.
Because she’s not strict enough to wear hijab, her friends are often surprised to find out she’s so religious. “They’re like, ‘Muslim people are cool!’ “ she said. “Yeah, we are. We have fun, too! They think Muslim people are locked in their houses.”
Anwar came hoping to find something new, a middle ground between the stereotypes of Muslims and sorority girls. It didn’t sound awful, as she thought it might, a weird kind of Sunday school thing. It sounded fun. Since then she’s been telling her friends how cool Gamma Gamma Chi would be — already talking them up, maybe, for next year’s rush.—Dawn/Washington Post News Service