MEGAN KIDBY
Scallion Editor and Oozma Kappa Brother
Megan Kidby cosplays as Steve Irwin to examine the wild terrain of frats.
Graphic by LILIAN HOLMAN | Staff Artist
Let us take a moment from our day — perhaps while nursing a Blue Light and blasting “FE!N” on a cracked Bluetooth speaker — to appreciate the most misunderstood and unfairly maligned institutions in higher education: the fraternities of SUNY Fredonia.
Yes, you heard me right. Fraternities. Those majestic pillars of white lie parties, mysteriously sticky floors and unmatched contributions to the field of warm Natty Ice storage.
It’s time we stop slandering these noble houses of brotherhood and start recognizing their critical role in shaping tomorrow’s leaders… or at least tomorrow’s bar trivia champions.
Where else but a frat house can a student experience the full social spectrum of human interaction, from high-fiving a stranger named “Beef” to being locked in a basement with a pledge class until they recite the Greek alphabet backwards? Where else can you enjoy a deeply educational journey through “brotherhood,” which famously involves being yelled at while holding a watermelon?
Let’s also address the cultural gravitas these frats bring to our beloved campus. One of them — and this is not a drill — counts among its distinguished alumni none other than Jimmy Buffett. That’s right. Mr. “Cheeseburger in Paradise” himself once wore Greek letters and probably tried to convince a pledge to build a tiki bar out of beer cans and popsicle sticks.
If that’s not legacy, what is?
Can your Honors Society say the same? I didn’t think so.
I also want to acknowledge the many ways frats contribute to Fredonia’s cultural landscape.
Who else would bring together an eclectic mix of communications majors, business bros and that one guy who’s definitely been a sophomore for four years (no judging here, I’ve been a junior for too long), into one cohesive community of misfit men? Who would be brave enough to play “Mr. Brightside” 17 times in one night until the neighbors file a noise complaint and a formal existential complaint?
Fredonia frats have long been accused of being mere social clubs, thinly veiled excuses for late-night yelling and furniture destruction.
But this is a grave mischaracterization.
These are sophisticated organizations where young men come together to develop life skills like tolerance for dubstep, keg stand mechanics and the art of quoting “Scarface” in emotionally vulnerable moments.
And don’t get us started on the academic enrichment they provide. Need help studying? Just head to the house on Canadaway, where “studying” means yelling Econ terms over beer pong. You haven’t truly learned until you’ve been tutored by someone who refers to Karl Marx as “K-Dawg.”
Of course, like any tradition-steeped institution, frats have their critics. Some complain about the “drunken chants echoing through Sunny’s at 1 a.m.” or the “unexplainable fireball residue in the dorm showers.”
But I ask you: can you truly put a price on unity? On camaraderie? On knowing 18 guys who will fist bump you in unison every time you enter a Denny’s?
So next time you see a frat bro stumbling out of Old Main in a Hawaiian shirt and cowboy boots, salute him. He’s not just a student — he’s living the dream, defending tradition and possibly still looking for that lost shaker of salt.
Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’ve been invited to a mixer. Theme: “Business on Top, Existential Crisis on the Bottom.” See you there.