Some moments call us to look outward, to understand what happened, where systems failed, and what must change. Others ask us to look inward. This is one of those moments.
Recent incidents affecting our fraternity and sorority communities nationwide have caused real harm and raised difficult questions about accountability, prevention, partnership, and the systems supporting students. As Dr. Bergeron noted in his message to the AFA community, these moments test our resolve and invite us to consider how institutions, organizations, and each of us respond.
I would be lying if I said this moment has not left me frustrated, saddened, and at times discouraged. I have found myself wrestling with how members of a community I care so deeply about can cause such harm and wondering what it will take for meaningful change to occur.
As a musical theater fan, I keep finding myself thinking about Hadestown. We know how the story ends. We know there will be possible disappointment and heartbreak. And yet, the story is told again. There is something deeply hopeful in choosing to return to a story even when we know how imperfectly it has unfolded before, because we still believe in the possibility of a different ending. Maybe that is part of what this moment asks of me.
I chose this professional life because my own fraternal experience was made exceptional by brothers, advisors, and professionals who believed in what this experience could be and invested in making it so. Their impact on me is still very real, and even on the days when this work frustrates or disappoints me, so is my belief in what this experience can be for others.
So I take a breath and return to the work. Not because I am willing to overlook what has happened, and not because belief requires us to defend what needs to change. I return because I care enough to believe that change is possible, and I know there are thousands of professionals, volunteers, students, and partners returning to the work alongside me.
If we are going to return to this work together, I hope we resist retreating to our corners. This cannot become a debate about who deserves more blame. Such divisions may offer temporary certainty, but they will not solve challenges too complex for any one group to address alone.
Instead, let’s seek solutions together and ask hard questions of our systems and ourselves. Where are our partnerships strong? Where has trust eroded? Which normalized practices deserve reconsideration? What are we learning from one another? And, perhaps most importantly, what are we willing to do differently because of what we are learning?
Our students are already speaking up, supporting survivors, sharing resources, and calling for action. We should hear those calls as an expectation that the communities they care about can grow and change. Our responsibility is not simply to respond with statements of support, but to help students turn their desire for change into reflection, learning, and action within their chapters and communities. We can ask alongside them: “What does accountability look like here?” “What can change?” “How can we care for one another differently?” “What responsibility do each of us have for creating the community we want?”
As we ask these questions, we must also care for the people doing this work. Fraternity and sorority professionals navigate extraordinarily complex situations with limited resources, competing expectations, and a deep sense of responsibility for the students and communities they serve. Right now, you may be supporting students who have experienced harm, managing crises and difficult relationships, answering questions without easy answers, and processing your own emotions, all at once.
Check on our people. Ask how they are, not simply what they are doing. Ask what they need and how this moment is affecting them as people, not just as professionals. Make sure they know colleagues, leaders, volunteers, and partners are ready to stand beside them. Share resources and burdens, and help determine what comes next.
Then, let’s invest accordingly. If we believe skilled professionals, strong partnerships, meaningful prevention, and effective accountability matter, our investments should demonstrate that belief. We cannot continually ask people to carry increasingly complex responsibilities without also ensuring they have the capacity, resources, development, and support to do that work well.
Our community is hurting. There is frustration, and difficult conversations lie ahead. We must make room for that while remembering why so many of us chose this profession: we believe these communities can thrive, students can learn, organizations can grow, systems can improve, and harm can be prevented. Belief does not require us to defend the status quo. It requires us to care enough to examine it honestly and work together to make it better.
We do not need to have all the answers today. We need to turn toward one another. Listen. Check in. Ask hard questions. Examine our practices. Support students and professionals. Rebuild trust. And turn reflection into meaningful action.
Maybe Hadestown has something to teach us after all. We return to the story because we still believe a different ending is possible. None of us can write that ending alone. But together, we can get back to the work of making it possible.