It was 10 p.m. on a Friday night, and hundreds of students from all around Boston packed the MIT student center wearing t-shirts and sweatshirts emblazoned with Greek letters, shields and numbers.
The DJ in the corner was spinning New York City hip hop on two turntables and everyone seemed to be moving to a single rhythmic beat. Suddenly, the lights went dark and the dance floor cleared. A line of women dressed in pink and green began dancing and moving in unison to the center of the room. I watched as their girlfriends on the side cheered them on with a high-pitched call that they returned.
"Skeeeeeeee weeeeeee..."
I was entranced.
During the day, I studied American history and literature at Harvard University.
There, I was surrounded by much of our nation’s heritage -- from the old Wadsworth House, where General George Washington set up his first Massachusetts headquarters, to the dining room in the Union, which was decorated with antlers from Theodore Roosevelt’s hunting days.
But there were moments when I felt disconnected from the hallowed, blue-blood halls of the campus and craved a deeper connection to my own history and roots.
That stepshow and others like it marked my introduction to black Greek life.
In the months that followed, I found myself drawn not only to the parties and step shows hosted by the women of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, but also to the community service events the sorority organized throughout Boston.
I also noticed the deep friendships and bonds many of the AKAs shared with each other and the incredible support network they had formed.
As a black scholarship student from the Bronx with both Southern and immigrant family members, I begin to seek other women like me.
By my junior year, I began spending more time with women from Wellesley College, MIT and Boston University who were members of Alpha Kappa Alpha.
I began to fall in love with the sorority’s legacy, esteemed membership, commitment to service and place in African-American history. I realized that I wanted to be a part of its sisterhood.
There, in a city famous for its elite and predominantly white colleges, I could feel the call of Alpha Kappa Alpha reeling me in across generations and over miles, connecting me to my people and my past.
What I never imagined was the depth of the friendships I would find, keep and cherish.
In the spring of 1994, eight other women and I were initiated into the Lambda Upsilon Chapter of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority Inc. on the campus of Wellesley College.
We were all close, but five of us formed an especially tight bond. We were full of hope, ego and on the cusp of womanhood, excited about all that life had to promise in terms of love, careers and adventures unimagined.
I was the hip-hop head Bronx girl who loved writing and politics at Harvard.
Joy was a dramatic Wellesley student from the Philadelphia suburbs with aspirations of being a a singer and actress.
Celika was the right-brained one studying electrical engineering at MIT, with Atlanta and Memphis roots.
Tjada, who was at Harvard with me, was from Connecticut and Washington D.C. and as the youngest of the crew seemed to giggle at everything.
Last but not least, there was Wellesley's Maybel, who was also from the Bronx and brought Dominican flavor to our sisterhood.
Together, we chose “Kinyamkela” as our line name – loosely translated from Swahili to “an evil whirlwind brewing.”
We did not – could not – see the hard moments ahead, but we also had no way of knowing that our introduction to each other through Alpha Kappa Alpha would forge a unique bond that would grow through the decades and that we would have so many adventures.
While still in college, we managed to find a week-long spring break trip to the Bahamas that cost about $400 for airfare and accommodations for six nights at the Sun Fun.
Needless to say, the motel was not Nassau’s finest and we ended up hitchhiking to the beach every day on a pizza delivery truck.
When we graduated from school and began our careers, all five of us would once a year crash in a single room at the Waldorf Astoria for a girls’ weekends and wait in Times Square for cheap Broadway tickets and share plates of food at expensive Manhattan restaurants.
As years passed, we supported each other as our careers would skyrocket, then hit a pothole, and then take off again.
We danced hand-in-hand down the aisle in African garb when the first of us married and cried together through two divorces.
The seven children among us are a constant source of joy and consternation, and as career women, we try to uplift each other when mommy-guilt or doubts kick in.
We’ve watched younger sisters, nieces and other relatives join AKA and we hold our breaths in hope that one day, our daughters also will become members of our sisterhood.
We know the best is still yet ahead for us, and we rest assured that after 20 years of sisterhood, when adversity rears its head, we’ll be there for each other.
No matter how we annoy or sometimes confound each other, our journey into sisterhood was really a forward payment on an unimaginable, irreplaceable bond --- deep in our hearts.
Seeking membership in Alpha Kappa Alpha was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made and I am forever grateful that as a 19-year-old college student at Harvard, I found a fellowship sincere and rare.
About the Author
