Call a spade a spade. It's not the Red Cross; it's for fun

Greek life. You either love it or you hate it. And unless you're talking to someone in the system, you wouldn't think much of this college lifestyle.

And it doesn't look like campus leaders think much of it either, as they attempt to transform greek life's image from reckless to regal through strict codes of conduct.

The rank-and-file greek is trapped in a complicated identity crisis that the entire system is struggling to understand.

The perception, it seems, is that greeks at the UA are one step short of Reese Witherspoon in "Legally Blonde": rich spoiled kids from Southern California who drive Beemers with pretentious customized license plates about their daddies, their days filled with tanning appointments and Pilate lessons, their nights with drink specials at Dirtbag's and Gentle Ben's.

The image is further tarnished by what looks to be non-stop news of house after house getting busted for fighting or drinking, the result of a solid university crackdown on fraternity and sorority behavior.

Nevertheless, one might assume the students who slam fraternity boys and sorority girls are jealous of what appears to be a lavish lifestyle. Maybe they are.

But the bad rep greeks have at the UA is of their own making. And it's not because of their natural twenty-something American urge to drink in large amounts, shop at Abercombie & Fitch and beg their parents for red Jeep Wranglers.

Rather, it's a complicated identity crisis that has placed the rank-and-file greek kid in a confusing dichotomy ÷ is the greek system about meeting friends and getting involved, or does it exist as a training organization for the future leaders of America's largest non-profit organizations?

See, the greek system has slowly evolved from a blatantly social outlet for out-of-town students to a seemingly sophisticated mess of public relations wannabes and guilty, left-over lushes who want to rob the greek system of it's honest character by transforming it into one giant mix of Red Cross organizations with nice lawns lined up and down Second Street.

Drew Baxter, former president of Pike, said it best.

"When I first came to this school, the greek life was fun, and everyone wanted to be a part of it. If I were an incoming freshman, I'd be crazy to join a frat now. It wouldn't be any fun," Baxter said in June in reference to the university's changing philosophy toward greek life.

With incoming freshmen attacking campus in just a few weeks, the greek system will have a whole new slew of members, and it's doubtful that those 18-year-old kids, just months out of high school, are looking to sign up for greek life because of the countless volunteer opportunities it touts.

They're looking for friends, fun and something to feel a part of in a sea of 37,000. That's not a bad thing.

And if they need to eat ravioli with maple syrup or run around quasi-naked in their underwear to achieve that acceptance, then they should be free to do so, as long as it's of their own free will.

Illegal activity should be prosecuted and houses that break the law held accountable. But the UA's laws on greeks go beyond that ÷ they are a result of a change in the tides, a new philosophy, at least for administrators, of what greek life should be about.

And as they plot, obviously aware that most students don't share their candy-coated views about greek life, greeks should devise their own plan and hold onto their identity ÷ not just play along.

If the university is feeling guilty (as it should be) about being intimately tied to a system that is really nothing more then a mix of social party clubs, then they should loosen the ties and make greek life independent.

Anything else is a costly, time-consuming faŤade.