Friday, March 22, 2013

I had hummus and pitas at Volta with three precious girls who are big fans of the END-IT movement. This is a cause they adopted thanks to Louie Giglio and his team of Christian speakers and rockers at the Passion Conference.

Basically, END-IT movement works to stop human trafficking. And human trafficking usually involves sex. Think of the movie "Taken" and those squalid brothels (if you can stand it).

For moms of young daughters, this cause is hard to look at. It's too painful. It's horrendously frightening. And if we admit it happens, we might not be able to sleep at night.

But awful things DO happen. And not just in Amsterdam or Guatemala. In my newspaper, on my kitchen counter, there is a picture of a man who got three life sentences for child pornography. It's gross to say, but this man filmed sex acts with children.

I know you don't want to read this here. You'd rather read about the hummus and pitas.

And I'm going back there -- to Volta and the beautiful freshmen girls who love their sorority and plan for formals and take self-paced psychology and go to chemistry labs.

Over hummus, these girls talked about dance practice. They are preparing for a weekend frat event called Derby Day that is always a blast. Yes, lots of people get drunk. But it makes for good memories unless your foot is squished by a bus.

The sun will shine and the dancing will be fun. Hundreds of girls will dress up like candy (that is this year's theme) and booty-shake and shimmy and probably pelvic thrust for the frat guy judges.

Woah, I can hear the voices say, "pelvic thrusting"? That sounds a little strong.

Better to just say: "They will do a provocative dance."

But being a journalist and a truth-teller at heart, I can't stand euphemisms. Call it what you will. I'm thinking slutty dancing.

Here's a description I found online, written by a guy, that pretty much describes it:


Got a test that week? Forget about it. You have to practice your ass off to perfect your bootylicious dance routine so old men judges can drool over you and hopefully declare your group the winning ass-shakers.  So, while all of the girls sell their souls to this male dominated absurdity, the men of Sigma Chi sit around, get hammered and enjoy all of the attention. At least it’s for charity, right?


I know I'm not supposed to, but, truthfully, I can deal with slutty dancing. I love the Sweet Potato Queens. I love Dancing with the Stars.  I love slow dancing myself to Percy Sledge's "Let's Get it On."

Here's the part that makes me squeamish. At this fun fraternity event, each sorority provides a girl to compete for the title of Queen for a Day. This is not a Cinderella-Snow White type of queen. NoNoNo. Think Brittany and Madonna on steroids. Think stripper pole and push-up bra and potty mouth in one gorgeous, slightly drunk package.

It is a dubious honor to be chosen for this role. Many girls politely say "no thanks" when selected to represent their sorority sisters. So the sorority moves on to the next wildly sexy candidate until they find one willing to, ahem, perform.

Now I'm not condemning. I'm just being honest here. It is quite a juxtaposition. A clash of values. A conundrum.

Sororities promote values of sisterhood, friendship, campus involvement, philanthropy, teamwork -- and of course dating, shopping, cattiness, elitism, money-wasting and partying.

So there's lots of material here for the essay writers and deep thinkers.

In your honors class, you might be leading an honors discussion on vanishing cultures  or writing a paper comparing and contrasting science fiction with the therapies employed by Sigmund Freud.

But this tying of the events of Derby Day weekend to the END-IT movement. Comparing and contrasting and fleshing it all out. That's a little complicated for me.

That's one for a real Honors College discussion.NOW.