Art by Demetria
The one and only time I was invited to a frat party in college, I went with this boy (I thought) I had a crush on. We were in the same freshman social justice program together and I knew from his nonchalant style and charismatic hair flips that he would be a crucial vessel for networking. It’s not that I was using him, but I enjoyed the power game of gaining a reputation for myself. Dressed as a classic college fem, I navigated the musty, noisy hallways of the upperclassmen apartments hoping I didn't look too much like a newbie. When the door opened to what seemed like 100 cishet white men, I instantly whipped out my game face. I wanted to prove to my boy-friend that I could hold my own, I could be what he admired.
The cente...