3 out of 4 stars
At IU I had a class called Teaching in a Pluralistic Society, designed ostensibly to prepare student teachers for confronting and engaging students of all and any gender, religion, race, ethnicity, and socio-economic status. The main assignment was to research a group we felt “resistance toward” and research said cultural enclave, in hopes to break down our assumptions. Common groups selected were gay and lesbian students, Muslims, and so forth. I had trouble finding, or as I see now, admitting, a group I felt intolerant of and ultimately chose Jews, simply to learn more about their history and practices.
Of course, I should have chosen frat guys.
A few weeks back, right around the end of the school year, I read Brad Land’s college memoir, strangely entitled Goat. Donning an illustration of a goat head reminiscent of the best or worst metal band album covers, the book caught my eye about six years ago while perusing a book store.
The jacket introduces the book as a recounting of Land’s pledge into a fraternity in South Carolina. Written in an erratic, fragmented, and urgent style, the prose is more emotional than lavish and reads like the diary of a person unwillingly living through a Brett Easton Ellis novel. Land’s experience with violence, even before his pledge, sets the pace for unsettling and disturbing events later to come.
Fearing interaction and intimacy with anyone except his brother, Brad, like so many others, pledges simply because he feels it is the right thing to do. With emotional abuse and manipulation which rivals the physical maltreatment, Brad’s time at Clemson is more about fear and survival than education and growth. His ever complex, waxing and waning relationship with his brother propels the narrative and the reader down a chaotic spiral. And although the connection with the book’s title was not as disturbing as I had anticipated, it is dehumanizing and graphic in the way film’s cut away from unsettling images.
Pledges are treated like anything but brothers, required to wait on their upper classmen hand and foot, beaten physically, forced to consume dangerous amounts of alcohol, and ridiculed for any imaginary offense possible.
Of course, this book didn’t assuage my apprehension toward Greek life – in which social power and authority dictate – but in the end, how different is that from the rest of the world? I am sure there exemplary fraternities and sororities that have contributed greatly to their community, but the label of Greek isn’t compulsory with social work.
Ultimately, what is needed is greater prudence on the part of incoming college students and stark investigations and consequences by universities.
One Amazon reviewer disagreed, stating “This book is about a pledge that couldn't cut it. I am sorry the author suffered through what he did in the beginning of the book, but I am sick of people whining about how terrible hazing is. Hazing is the only way fraternities can keep out the guys who aren't serious about joining.”
I am not sure if this reviewer understands the word sorry, considering the subject line of his synopsis is Weak kid, weak book. Blaming a victim is hardly sympathetic. This is just another example of “the ends justify the means” and for many, apparently this tradition is worth human suffering.
Hulu has a documentary up called Haze, which I’ve yet to watch though plan to over my break.
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