The Notorious KKG

K appa Kappa Gamma became the one of the first women’s fraternities to initiate a male student last year. Members sued their Wyoming chapter after it allowed Artemis Langford, a 6′ 2″, 260-pound man who claims he is a woman, to join the sisterhood. Kappa nationals recently kicked out two prominent alumni for standing against that decision, National Review’s Caroline Downey reported on Thursday. I’d like to agree with pundits who call for the erasure of sororities before they all become hubs for transgenderism, but as a proud Kappa, I can’t.

Hillsdale College had only three sororities, and choosing Kappa five years ago was easy. The house of blue and blue exuded grace, class, and fellowship; the sorority wasn’t perfect, nor was it the most profound experience. But Kappa gave girls a home to navigate womanhood.

During our Kappa years, my sisters and I studied the Bible together, had daily “sharties” (shower parties), sung Taylor Swift before dances, consoled each other after breakups, watched The Bachelor, found every occasion for Dairy Queen Blizzards, and cuddled on the worn-in couch upstairs. We tried to blow up microwaves in parking lots and burned ex-boyfriends’ sweatshirts at the lake. We lost our voices screaming chants at jump-rope competitions and went on winery adventures.

Kappa also had serious moments. Our house mom coached me before a National Review interview with Rich Lowry (“He can’t be that scary”), and a dear sister sponsored my confirmation into the Catholic Church. Women met in the house every time a sister got engaged, had a baby, or suffered a death in her family. We were girls who grew into women through sisterhood.

Two years ago, Kappa conducted a wellness presentation on Zoom. The presenter asked sisters to share on an anonymous commenting platform any mental-health challenges they might have experienced, and, unexpectedly, replies flooded the chat. Sisters had struggled silently for years with eating disorders, depression, anxiety, alcoholism, loneliness, and fatigue. One sister said that she tried to kill herself in the sorority house. When we got off of the call dazed and heartbroken, we met downstairs, cried, and prayed for the girls next to us. Today’s young women suffer from high rates of depression, suicide, and anxiety, and they need female friends now more than ever. Kappa chapters nationwide probably had similar moments, in which they too witnessed how important a house of and for women can be. 

Original Kappas were true feminists. Up until 1850, only men had single-sex college organizations. That didn’t stop our founders: KKG is called a “women’s fraternity” because it was created even before the term “sorority.” Kappa sought to form fraternal life that would support women’s academic and personal pursuits — mothers, daughters, workers, and students alike. Kate Ross, one of the first three members of the Epsilon Chapter at Illinois-Wesleyan University, delivered her class oration at IWU’s 1874 commencement. “Neither today, nor ever, can we forget to be grateful that four years ago the Wesleyan University invited to equal privileges sons and daughters. The darkness of the past has rolled away,” she said. “Liberty is dawning.”

Universities in 1867 allowed women to charter official single-sex fraternities. Now, progressive-endorsed gender ideology has regressed women’s rights — all the way back to 1850, when men had the upper hand. What happens if men hijack sororities? It wasn’t a pretty scene in Wyoming, where Langford reportedly sported visible erections in the sorority house. For the girls, in an environment where men can cosplay womanhood, gone would be the comfort of living with females who understand a college woman’s unique experience. College life is emotional and disorienting — and difficult, if not impossible, to survive without girlfriends. Sororities aren’t the only avenue to female friendship. The undeniable quality of a sorority, though, is that beyond petty drama and the growing pains of adulthood, it calls on sisters to love and defend each other.

In late October, Kappa Kappa Gamma’s national charter stripped two sisters of alumni status for advocating against the sorority’s decision to admit Langford into its University of Wyoming chapter. Kappa allowed a man to desecrate the female-only organization, which was bad enough. The fraternity’s latest move to revoke former foundation president Patsy Levang and long-time member Cheryl Tuck-Smith’s statuses is worse and sends a dangerous, untrue message: that Kappa is a transient thing whose membership depends on politics, not tradition.

Kappa was created to “draw into the society the choicest spirits among the girls, not only for literary work, but also for social development,” our founders wrote. Her tokens are the owl, the key, and the fleur-de-lis. The owl stands for sacred wisdom; the key is to unlock hidden mysteries in science, literature, and art; the iris symbolizes dignity and grace. Kappa nationals appears to have forsaken truth and loyalty, the very values represented on the fraternity’s crest since 1870.

The sorority has issued pages of guidance on gender-inclusive language and gender-identity acceptance and has allowed men to join since 2015. It seems as though the institution will leave women who disagree with transgender madness in the dust. That shouldn’t stop Kappas from standing up for truth, or our sisters, by denouncing male impersonators.

Sorority life is worth redemption — if only because next month, my best friend and sorority sister will walk down the aisle, flanked by Kappas and with a golden key on her wedding bouquet. Sororities, even with their silly songs, matching outfits, and recruitment videos, are valuable to the girls who take them seriously.

Kappa introduced me to womanhood. I earnestly hoped that my future daughter would someday be a Kappa. I still do, but not if the price of membership is her integrity.