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May 25, 2023

What 'Bama Rush' film reveals about University of Alabama sororities

Those expecting a crimson expose from "Bama Rush" will be disappointed. As

Those expecting a crimson expose from "Bama Rush" will be disappointed.

As anyone could have predicted, the University of Alabama and well-connected Greek lifers slammed doors, windows and other avenues, making access tough for director Rachel Fleit and her crew.

Rumors spread on social media that "20 women" were strapped with mikes ― wearing a wire, in TV-cop parlance -- to infiltrate sorority houses. That spread alarm, up to and including a letter from UA President Stuart R. Bell, sent to Fleit and others. Warnings burbled out that those wishing to take part would suffer consequences. And of course ubiquitous threats from and about The Machine coughed up.

More:A booming Bid-ness: Why the University of Alabama's Bid Day is a big deal

Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist John Archibald, class of '86, got his start at the Crimson White covering secretive Theta Nu Epsilon, the Greek affiliates controlling all facets of campus life, and some in Tuscaloosa.

"It strikes me as being very Southern, because we have a long history of silence," he says in the film, including not talking to media. He paraphrased from a leaked 2016 document said to originate with The Machine: "Little is known, and what is known is kept secret."

Speaking to Fleit about why Greeks clamped down, "I could reach too deep and say that you probably represent the carpetbaggers coming down to teach us what's right and wrong…."

Those expecting a laudatory Roll Tide will also be left bereft, though had not paranoia struck, that may have been a different tale. Fleit was inspired by viral Bama Rush TikTok videos from 2021.

Near the end, the director appears, sighing, ironically sporting a "f*ck your documentary" T-shirt made by those trying to stifle the work.

"…. They believe that I'm trying to ruin their tradition.... But I came into this like literally 'Roll Tide!' "

Fleit's not the only one who undergoes heart-and-mind changes in "Bama Rush," which takes journeys with high school seniors and UA students planning to go through rush 2022.

Starting from respective homes, we meet high-schoolers Shelby, an effervescent, energetic woman from Quincy, Illinois who seems to live and breathe crimson; and Isabelle, an intense, questioning person from Rancho Cucamonga, California, who's sincerely seeking a sense of identity, a place to belong.

At home, Shelby sports a wall of awards her family calls "Taj Mahal." She creates a rush binder, as she did for pageants, stuffed with motivation quotes and ideas.

"I can tell a million people that I'm going to the University of Alabama, and they'll be like 'You're totally meant to go there,'" she says.

When rumors fly, Shelby drops out of the filming.

Isabelle wants to work on herself, open herself to new experiences. She powers through tears, sharing how locker-room talk from other girls lead to her eating disorder, and later, how she was sexually abused two weeks before leaving for Tuscaloosa.

On the day before Bid Day — fourth and final of the process — Fleit and Isabelle go swimming in what looks like Lake Harris, or possibly Nicol, on a mild late summer day.

"This feels more at home than I've ever felt in a long time," Isabelle said. The pain and anger and sadness don't go away, she said "but knowing there's a hope and a plan, and all of the power is within you… God has given me so much will to live."

On campus we meet students Holliday, an energetic, driven woman who wants to become president, and Makalya, her roomie and friend, a more somber, reflective person.

Playing a "what kind of fruit would you be" game, Holliday picks strawberries, since everyone loves them, "And I just like wanna be loved by everybody …. I don't like when people don't like me."

Makalya chooses watermelon "Because I act hard on the outside, but I'm soft on the inside."

Though their friendship fractures over the course of filming, there's a touching moment in a cemetery on Halloween. Makalya shows Holliday her father's tombstone. A policeman, he died when she was just 13. Holliday lost her own father at 16.

"I think that's why we also bond, too, because we're missing our dads," says Makalya, who offers many of the film's most pointed observations.

Holliday laughs, while sniffling, "Trauma bond!"

Speaking of unwanted correspondences, nearly all share a history of eating disorders, or loathing mirrors, disliking their looks. Holliday's shown running, doing squats and other weight work, before noting she now has cellulite and stretch marks.

"But like, they're so beautiful, because it shows, like, that I'm overcoming something and growing," she says.

Holliday decides not to rush, having heard rumors all the sororities have blackballed her. Makalya recalls she laughed while watching one house's song-and-dance bit.

"I was like, 'Dude, can I really do that?' " she said, laughing. "I realize that being a sophomore, you don't have to be in a sorority to enjoy your life. I felt like I was being, like, forced to like them, too. It was annoying."

She briefly speaks about telling her rush consultant — yes, there are rush consultants, three of them interviewed for the film — but adds "I don't really care about disappointing anyone."

Fleit and "Bama Rush" found open-minded actives — current Greeks — who'd talk, including Rian, a Sigma Kappa.

"You know, something that's ingrained in us early is is that, yeah, you're a person, but you're a Sigma Kappa first. You're a woman, but you're a Sigma Kappa first," she says.

"That's a lot of what being in a sorority is. It's branding. That's you know, every single Greek organization." Rian later adds her sorority life has lead to the best people she's ever met.

A trio of sisters from Zeta Tau Alpha, Kaiya, Lauren and Katie, speak against stereotyping.

" 'Oh why are you trying so hard? Like, you should just get a husband.' I'm not only a sorority girl. I'm a woman in a sorority. And it's not the same thing," Katie says.

Kaiya adds it's outside haters who are mean, and that they're mostly doing ordinary student things.

"What do we do, we eat our chicken sandwiches together?" she says, cracking up her friends. "We put a lot, a lot of pressure on ourselves."

Katie shows on her phone how easily videos can be edited to make body parts thinner, teeth whiter. But Bama girls who have become social-media influencers should feel a responsibility to represent honestly, she says.

"…. these women with millions of followers, they post that and act like it's real," Katie says.

"Fourteen-year-girls are gonna look at that and say 'Why don't I look like that?' " Kaiya says.

"The things that I say to myself and think to myself about my body, I would never say that to someone else."

Fleit, who lives with alopecia areata, has been bald since childhood. She steps into frame often, once she finds a through-line.

"OK, I think I know where I'm going with this," she says. "Between Katie, this smart, beautiful girl telling me that she wishes she looked like her friends, or she compares herself to other women, and the endless scrolling of these OOTDs (outfit of the day), it hit me. ...

"... I feel like I rushed because I have alopecia, and I wore a wig for 14 years."

Mullets, bowl cuts, blunt cuts, body weaves, perms, layered looks, she wore something new every year.

"I was trying to get into the sorority of all of the girls in the world who have hair, and it felt like an impossible sorority to get into," she says.

It took years for Fleit to feel being true mattered more than being accepted. Taking off the wig felt easy, and at the same time like removing a 1,000-pound helmet, she says. For years she's gone natural. But after rumors on social media rise to the feeling of threats, producers insist on hiring security for the crew.

And Fleit, to finish her film, pulls on a blonde wig.

The film's trailer hinted at much of "Bama Rush"'s flair: arrays of cameras displaying TikToks; crimson-and-white glamour at a Bryant-Denny night game; lovely imagery on and off campus; a slew of slow-motion running women; talk of power, status and prestige, about how boys rank sororities according to hotness; about top-tier sororities vs. bottoms; and how The Machine believes it controls everything, which this film's completion, and streaming on premium service Max, calls into question.

If you'd never been around UA, or Greek life, there might be some surprises. If you have, it could spark nostalgia, or at least recognition.

The heart of "Bama Rush" centers on attempts to reconcile conflicting drives and impulses, between acceptance and individuality, ideals and expression, tradition and diversity.

Elizabeth Boyd, author of book "Southern Beauty: Race, Ritual and Memory in the Modern South," says "Rush is a social stratification ritual bar none. … It's a proving ground of competitive femininity, and the contemporary performance of the Southern belle."

Moments later, watching TikToks from PNMs (prospective new members) she comments wryly: "Not with those shoes .... You've gotta have cute shoes."