The secret lives of SORORITIES
It’s a scorching August day in Tuscaloosa, Alabama, a small, historic town in the deep American south. Eighteen-yearold MaKayla Culpepper puts on a white ruffled minidress and pair of colour-blocked, dangly earrings that pop against her dark skin and waistlength black hair. She posts a quick TikTok video sharing the details of her outfit (“Dress: Painted Pink; Shoes: Gianni Bini”), then makes her way to Sorority Row, a strip of student houses on campus at the University of Alabama.
She arrives at a neoclassical mansion and ogles at the towering white columns rising from neat, manicured lawns. (“I’d never seen a house like that,” she later tells marie claire.) The doors fling open and she’s greeted by a pack of young women eagerly clapping and chanting Greek letters. A glass of iced water is shoved in her hand and she’s ushered in, then spends 15 minutes chatting about her life, studies and philanthropic endeavours.
MaKayla leaves the mansion and visits two more, a repetitive fanfare of singing and small talk. The women – older college students who already live in the house – are welcoming and bubbly. But behind their sweet smiles they’re sizing her up, ranking
