COLUMN: "Drink Up, Private!"

From Zelig Kurland's "Bacon for Breakfast," Spring '92 Male bonding isn't sexist, it's simply brotherhood. Every group of friends has its own rites and traditions. Fraternities attempt to institutionalize male bonding. Though I find the idea of living with guys I like sounds like a hell of a lot of fun, the bond between brothers is often solidified -- even created -- through depersonalizing and demeaning prepackaged rites of passage. The bonds between true friends are solidified with common understanding, not just the common experience of pledging. · I have done my share of the insipid and moronic. I spent many nights in high school as "Private Bagel Jockey," marching around a calisthenics course with five fellow privates. We chugged cheap Schaeffer beer, climbed ropes and screamed "Sir, yes sir!" at the command of our drill sergeant -- the designated driver. We still do it. It's called the Schaeffer Olympics. It was during the Olympics that I learned what it is to be a man: "Private, you've got ten seconds to chug that beer." "Sir, there's no room in my stomach, sir." "Well you'd better find some room. Ten push-ups, and say 'I love mayonnaise' after each one." The Olympics began as a parody of machismo, but became a test of beer drinking prowess and aerobic endurance. We made a medal for the winner, but no one ever receives it. We either run out of beer or the cops show up. Most details of the Schaeffer Olympics are, of course, a secret. · So I like rites, but pledging and having to be brothers with someone -- regardless of personal merit -- is a bit much. Food runs and other nuisances would be fine. The Elephant Dance would not. For those of you not familiar with this, imagine those Disney flicks you saw as a kid, where marching elephants held the tails of the pachyderm proceeding them with their trunks. Now imagine pledges marching around holding each others cocks. Even if you did find this entertaining, why bother? It's been done hundreds of times. It has nothing to do with you. The Schaeffer Olympics is a rite only I and six others have experienced. It belongs to us. We can alter it as we develop and mature. Indeed, we now drink Pabst Blue Ribbon instead of Schaeffer. A fraternal rite belongs to the frat -- to XYZ. To be a part of it you have to become an XYZ. To be part of the Schaeffer Olympics, I only have to withstand being a private for an evening. When you assume XYZ as your label and identity, part of your individual character may be suppressed or lost. Either way, you -- by association -- receive the values of the whole. If XYZ is sexist, you probably are too. If it isn't, then you aren't. Or so the theory goes. When brothers misbehave, the houses invariably argue that the actions of a few do not represent those of the whole -- though every pledge's handbook asks that he exemplify the virtures of the fraternity, warning that he is at all times a representative of its values. Collective identity and collective responsibility are inseparable. · Frats fulfill a need. A need for security and stability, to be part of time-tested traditions and rites. A need to have a place on campus you can call home. A need to have a group of guys you can call brothers. A need to be not just John Doe, but an XYZ as well. It is an opportunity to stand out among the other 6,000 undergrad men wearing faded Levis and a J. Crew rugby. Likewise, Jane Doe can be more than just another freshman -- she can be an XYZ consort. Check out those nifty T-shirts: "See Dick rush. See Dick Pledge. See Jane want Dick." Another imitates the Federal Express logo: "Fraternity Express: When she absolutely, positively has to be there overnight." While sexist, these messages are based on fact. There really are women who will sleep with someone because he's a brother. These shirts don't reflect negatively on those women who see them and think, "Jesus, this guy is a tool." Respectable women prefer my "Schaeffer Olympics: Cindy Crawford will blow you" T-shirt. · The Schaeffer Olympics are an absurd event, but I enjoy it and I do it of my own free will. No matter what I do, they still respect me. Once I decided not to slam a beer, and they stood by me -- as I did twenty push-ups. When the beer I was balancing on my back spilled during the fourth rep, they pummelled me. That moment of intimacy honestly brought us closer. But what if a pledge decides not to line up? Can he still be a brother? Will he still be accepted? Does he want brothers whose allegiance is dependent not upon who he is but upon whether or not he obeys? Fraternities take their games -- and their labels -- far too seriously. Zelig Kurland is a sophomore English major from Charleston, West Virginia. "Bacon for Breakfast" will appear alternate Tuesdays.

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