My sister got sent to detention once in her life, and it was for wearing a sweatshirt. No, it didn’t have any obscene language or political statements, but it did have the name of our all-boys brother school written in fat white letters across the front.
My mom, two of my older sisters and I all attended the same all-girls Catholic high school in St. Louis. Some of its more infamous rules included:
1. Please brush your hair before the photographer shows up.
2. You must attend Mass on the first Friday of every month, and
3. Never wear an all-boys high school sweatshirt to World History.
“You should represent your own school,” our history teacher argued, “not your boyfriend’s. Do you really think he’s walking around with your school’s name printed on his chest?”
At the time, this restriction induced eye-rolls. At 16, all of us scoffed and groaned, claiming we knew better. We snuck our sweatshirts in to throw on during lunch. In hindsight, I wonder what was so great about these oversized, blue and white hoodies anyways. Why were they so coveted? What made them more desirable than wearing our own school’s merch? And why did wearing them instantly send off an alert to every other girl in a six-mile radius that you had friends that were boys, and that that made you cool?
It seemed that every one of my classmates appeared to juggle the same set of premises and consequences, only to come to the same conclusion:
Premise 1: Everyone in high school wants to be well-liked.
P2: If I wear a boys’ high school sweatshirt, I will appear to have guy friends.
P3: If I wear my girls’ high school merch, I’ll appear to have no guy friends.
Conclusion: Therefore, I will choose to wear a boys’ high school sweatshirt to appear well-liked (even if it means I will get in trouble).
In high school, there was something alluring about declaring your favorite all-male school. Even more than that, there was something enthralling about being claimed by the boys of a different high school.
It’s not like this trend went away after graduation either.
On Sunday, my friend asked if I wanted to join her to go to Flaherty Mass. “I always skip our dorm’s,” I told her. “Knott’s is way better.”
She told me I was being a “pick-me.” I told her it was true. In my opinion, Knott has better music, free pizza afterwards and, most of all, it has better attendance. Not only do more boys show up for Mass, but more girls do too. The process is cyclical:
Premise 1: The perceived quality of a Mass is influenced by attendance.
P2: Knott Mass typically has higher attendance than Flaherty Mass.
P3: Higher attendance tends to create a more engaging and communal atmosphere.
Conclusion: Therefore, I will choose to go to Knott Mass.
I think anyone can agree with the fact that Notre Dame is an extremely gendered campus. It is gendered in its very nature — not only in the fact that it began as an all-male college, but because of the dorm system that is so integral to what ND is. I think almost everyone will also agree that men’s dorms are more fun than women’s: they have more events, better community, a more distinguishable reputation and closer relationships with their rectors.
A few days ago at the Keenan Revue, my girlfriends and I chatted about how hilarious every sketch was. “I wish we could do something like that,” a friend pointed out. For a moment, I wanted to add, “Maybe we could.” But I didn’t because I’m not funny, and because I wouldn’t want to get up on stage and do something ridiculous. The Keenan Revue works because people show up. If a girls’ dorm held a similar event, would people come? Would they laugh at a troop of female comedians in the same way they do for a male one?
Perhaps it’s futile to imagine the “what ifs” of our campus events. The fact of the matter is that Notre Dame was forged on the idea of separating women and men, and it will probably persist this way. We may never be able to change the dorm system, but perhaps we can change how we think about women’s halls. This begins with the women living inside of them.
Last Sunday, I attended mass at Cavanaugh Hall for the first time. In preparation for our joint Flaherty-Cav formal, girls from both dorms joined together. The Cav chapel was buzzing with electricity. We sat in integrated rows, Bears mixed with Chaos, chatting about what dresses we would wear and how we were going to do our hair. And when we sung, I noticed how my voice didn’t have to strain to hit any low notes — every line lay perfectly in my key. We sang in harmony, a collection of clear, feminine voices blending.
I left mass feeling a warm sense of security. There was no one to impress, no one to prove a point to. There was a sense of sisterhood, of community, of collective excitement. That was a feeling I had never gotten at Knott Mass before.
There is something special about women supporting other women. There is something so unique about being a sister, a daughter, a girlfriend. I’m not saying we need to never show up to mass at boys’ dorms or never wear merch from our favorite all-male schools. What I am saying, however, is that we need to support women just as often as we support men. We need to show up for them in the same way we do for male-led events.
Premise 1: When I show up to support my girlfriends, I feel good about myself.
The conclusion is simple: I will start showing up.
Gracie Eppler is a junior business analytics and English major from St. Louis, MO. Her three top three things ever to exist are 70’s music, Nutella and Smith Studio 3, where she can be found dancing. Reach her at geppler@nd.edu.
