Denouncing Delta Sigma Theta: Why I Gave Up My Greek Letters for God

This piece is long overdue — almost three years long, to be exact. Mostly, because I needed time.

Time to understand the “why” behind God telling me to do something so outlandish.

Time to mourn the loss of relationships that I believed would last a lifetime.

Time to understand my identity outside of an organization that I had been yoked to for over a decade. 

Time to find the words — and courage — to share what God has placed on my heart. 

I officially renounced my membership in Delta Sigma Theta Sorority, Incorporated (DST) on April 28, 2021 — exactly 10 years and six days after I was initiated via Alpha Chapter at Howard University on April 22, 2011.

My withdrawal from the sorority came four months after God had initially told me to renounce. It was December 2020, the same year I became a charter member of Macomb Alumnae Chapter earlier in May. 

I was sitting in the dining room of my then-boyfriend (now-husband) Rob’s home, when I felt this sudden urge to leave Delta. The feeling was so intense that I burst into tears. I was terrified because I knew what I was feeling had come directly from God. It was the complete opposite of what I wanted to do and yet, I knew I needed to do it.

This unnerving certainty followed a series of nudges that peppered my conscience throughout my years in DST. You know that annoying inkling you get when something is off but you can’t quite put your finger on why? So, you shove it into the furthest corner of your mind, hoping it magically dissipates into oblivion? That was my approach with DST — ignore the little nudges.

I ignored the little nudge that my rigorous pursuit of Delta stemmed from a deeper yearning to be connected to something greater than myself. 

I ignored the little nudge that the sorority crest, emblazoned with a pagan goddess at its helm, belied its claims of being an organization founded on Christian principles. 

I ignored the little nudge that pledging secret oaths while kneeling before an altar meant I was committing to something deeper than the organization itself. 

Beyond the letters;

Beyond the service;

Beyond the sisterhood. 

I ignored it all because I wanted to believe that all of it was good.

How could it not be?

An esteemed sorority founded by 22 illustrious Black women on the very historic, collegiate grounds I once quartered. 

A sorority that champions its values of sisterhood, scholarship, and service through various community programs and initiatives. 

A sorority that, for over a century, has forged and fostered sisterly bonds between dynamic women around the world. 

How could any of this NOT be good?

And see, that’s the thing — none of what I just mentioned is actually the problem. The organization’s compelling history, core values, community impact, and sisterly camaraderie weren't the source of my spiritual convictions. In fact, these were the very qualities of DST that drew — and kept — me in. 

But it’s the numinous elements humming beneath the surface — the initiation process; the secret oaths and rituals; the fervid, lifetime devotion — that, as a Christian, should be examined against the Word of God. 

For the longest time, this was difficult for me to accept because: 

1. I didn’t know God. Not how I thought I did.
   

2. Because I didn’t know God, I didn’t understand why pledging DST was not of God.  
   

3. Due to my lack of understanding, I believed the arduous elements of my initiation process were key to earning the joyful, sentimental experience of sisterhood. 

This severely blurred the lines between my mental, spiritual, and emotional ties to the organization. 

My admiration for the sorority’s profound history and legacy became entwined with my desperation to be welcomed into the fold.

My belief in DST’s mission and core values became entwined with the lifetime covenant I made through heart-binding oaths and rituals. 

My love for the women I called Soror became entwined with the turmoil many of us endured to earn the endearment. 

This led me to believe that I couldn’t have the bonds without the trauma;

The loyalty and respect without the pledging;

The solidarity without the secrecy;

The sisterhood without the sacrifice. 

Until one day, I realized that was all a lie.

It was during a chapter meeting ceremony in December 2020. Because we were at the height of the pandemic, meetings were held virtually. And since the ceremony was traditionally held in person, we had been conducting virtual chapter meetings without it. However, during our December meeting, we began doing a virtual rendition of the ceremony.

I watched in awe as the meeting facilitators unveiled an interactive ceremony display, complete with digitized versions of the sorority banner, candles, and other ceremony materials. Once each virtual candle was lit on the screen, the ceremony began. 

I silently scanned the text of my ritual book as the president read aloud. It was a passage appropriated from Scripture — 1 Corinthians 13 — with language modeling Delta as its own sacred creed.

While this wasn’t my first time reading the passage, it was my first time feeling convicted by it. Remember that annoying little nudge I mentioned earlier? This was that, times a thousand.

I zoned out for a bit, trying to convince myself that what I had just read wasn’t bad. Besides, wasn’t it a good thing that part of the ritual was inspired by Scripture? If anything, doesn’t this prove that the sorority values Christian principles?

As much as I tried to rationalize it, this only unearthed more questions like:

• What is the inspiration behind these ritual ceremonies?

• Why must they be performed at every candidate intake event, sorority conference, and chapter meeting?
  

• What — or who, rather — are we honoring through these rituals?

I blinked back to the ceremony display on my laptop screen. Suddenly, everything looked different — the table, the candles, all of it. There was an eeriness about it that I couldn’t shake. And then I wondered: 

Why are these ritual ceremonies so important that they have to be performed virtually?

It wasn’t like we couldn’t conduct chapter meetings without them. But now, it almost seemed imperative that the rituals continued.

Why? 

One could say the ritual ceremonies were created to bring a sense of solidarity and tradition to the sorority, which is true. In fact, the ceremonies were created as a means of binding members together and creating an atmosphere that embodies the spirit of Delta. 

This would explain, then, why the ritual ceremonies’ purpose felt much deeper than solidarity. It felt spiritual. Almost as if they were being performed to invoke some divine presence or entity. 

I'd soon discover that these ceremonies weren’t cutesy, made-up traditions that early sorority members created on a whim. They were inspired by a culmination of rituals and customs that were practiced to honor the gods of the ancient Greco-Roman religion, Hellenism.

Minerva/Pallas Athena, the Greco-Roman goddess of wisdom whom DST proudly endorses as its “sorority mentor,” is part of the Hellenic pantheon of gods and goddesses that have been worshipped by religious cults and secret societies throughout and beyond ancient history. 

I can’t tell you how the remainder of the chapter meeting went. All I remember is the hours I spent perusing my ritual book after it had ended. Hours of reading, underlining, and highlighting passages that didn't sit well with my spirit. Hours of questioning the root of the words I’d passionately recited in secret, time and time again. Hours of searching for answers — for truth — to make it all make sense. 

It was as if a veil had been lifted from my eyes. The traditions I once viewed as beautiful and sacred now seemed beguiling and sinister. And as much as I tried, I couldn’t unsee it. 

I couldn’t unsee the words of praise and adoration I chanted in heartfelt hymns to Delta.

I couldn’t unsee the words of devotion I professed through spirited pledges of allegiance. 

I couldn’t unsee the words bastardizing Scripture with sly whispers of mystical doctrine. 

I couldn’t unsee what had been hidden in plain sight. 

And still, I wasn’t ready:

To face the truth.

To accept this new reality.

To blow up my entire world at the expense of my relationships and reputation. 

After plowing through a rabbit hole of historical research, denouncement stories, and Scripture, I wasn’t ready to accept all that had been revealed. I wasn't ready to leave Delta.

I considered taking a simpler route, like opting out of attending the ritual ceremonies or becoming inactive.

Then, the Lord began exposing my heart. He showed me the root of my desires — a gaping void that I’d long mistaken for latitude. 

He revealed how my desire to be connected to something greater than myself;

My desire to forge and foster lifetime bonds with likeminded women;

My desire to be embraced and respected by my peers;

All stemmed from a sense of lack. 

A lack of security.

A lack of peace.

A lack of identity. 

But during my pursuit and initiation into Delta, I was blind to my inadequacies.

I didn’t see my longing to belong to this esteemed sisterhood as a sign of self-deficiency but rather, as an opportunity to become a better version of myself — the bold, fearless, compassionate woman I'd always aspired to be. I believed pledging Delta would help me become that woman: one who was willing to sacrifice, serve, and show up for her sisters. 

And while certain relationships and experiences within DST helped cultivate that, I'd be remiss if I said joining a culturally elite organization of dynamic women also didn't expose and amplify the more fragile parts of my character.

The part of me that compromised my dignity, integrity, and sanity to "earn" the love and respect of my former Sorors.

The part of me that touted months of mental, physical, and emotional anguish like a glowing badge of honor.

The part of me that got high on the elitism of being chosen and set apart from my peers.

The part of me that relished "popping the Delta" and flaunting my coveted Greek letters across campus and social media.

The part of me that glibly condemned prospects who weren't "going hard enough" to prove themselves worthy of the Sisterhood.

The part of me that indulged in petty banter and gossip with sorority sisters — about sorority sisters.

The part of me that knew the entire history, lineage, and traditions of the sorority and chapter I pledged more than Genesis 1 of my Bible.

The part of me that proclaimed my affiliation and allegiance to Delta more than my faith in Jesus Christ.

The part of me that thought all of this was OK.

While my time in DST bred heartfelt bonds and memories that I will forever cherish, buried beneath these sentimental gems was a spiritual covenant. One that was made following an acute period of social isolation, sleep deprivation, and self-compromise. One that was made while kneeling before a candlelit altar to take on oaths and obligations from which I could never be freed. One that yoked me to a series of vows, rituals, and ideals inspired by the "wisdom" of a false deity that proudly sits atop the sorority crest.

I'd made this covenant to gain access to an iteration of something I had been searching for my entire life:

Identity.

And 10 years after having made this covenant, the Lord Jesus finally revealed to me that everything I thought I'd gained through Delta — the identity, the fellowship, the call to serve — could only be found in Him.

He showed me that everything I'd worked so hard to attain through perpetual toiling and people-pleasing was freely available to me through His ever-flowing grace.

He showed me that the covenant that kept me mentally, spiritually, and emotionally yoked to Delta was merely a counterfeit of the covenant He'd already established and fulfilled through His blood shed on the cross.

He showed me that even if I opted out of the ritual ceremonies or became an inactive member who occasionally attended social gatherings, I'd still be bound by that covenant as long as I remained in the organization.

He showed me the truth. And it was all right there, written plainly in His Word.

When I finally opened my Bible and read past Genesis 1, I learned that Satan has been deceiving humanity since the very beginning. And he's done it consistently throughout history using the same, three-step formula:

1. Take something holy that God created

2. Sprinkle it with confusion and lies

3. Present it in its altered, ungodly state as "good"
   

He did it in Genesis 3, in the Garden, when he tempted Eve, who then tempted her husband, to eat the fruit that God specifically forbade them to eat.

He did it in Matthew 4, when he tried, to no avail, to tempt Jesus in the wilderness with a false, perverted gospel.

And he's still doing it today — specifically, through Greek fraternities and sororities — by:

1. Taking the God-ordained virtues of wisdom, camaraderie, and service;

2. Infusing them with syncretism, secrecy, and psychological manipulation;

3. Presenting it as a sacred sisterhood/brotherhood founded on Christian principles.
   

(Are you seeing the pattern here?)

A sisterhood/brotherhood that claims to have "made" you into a new person complete with a new name, new family, and new identity. Does any of this sound familiar?

Please open your Bible with me to 2 Corinthians 5:17:

"Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.”

A new creation in Christ.

Not in Delta Sigma Theta.

Not in Alpha Kappa Alpha.

Not in Zeta Phi Beta.

Not in Sigma Gamma Rho.

Not in Omega Psi Phi.

Not in Kappa Alpha Psi.

Not in Alpha Phi Alpha.

Not in Iota Phi Theta.

Not in Phi Beta Sigma.

Nor any other fraternity, sorority, or organization that uses physical and/or psychological manipulation to "make" you new.

Only in Christ.

Jesus Christ, the Son of the True and Living God, came to earth, died, and rose again to pay the wages of sin — death — so that we may have eternal life through faith in Him (Romans 6:23). He, God in the flesh, willingly endured rounds of physical and emotional abuse — and DIED — so that you wouldn't have to. Now, by God's grace and mercy, we have an open invitation to live a life free from sin through faith in Jesus. We can either accept or deny this invitation.

If we accept, He says in Ezekiel 36:26-27:

"I will give you a new heart and put a new spirit within you; I will take the heart of stone out of your flesh and give you a heart of flesh. I will put My Spirit within you and cause you to walk in My statutes, and you will keep My judgments and do them."

Living a life free from sin is not to be confused with living "freely" IN sin (Romans 6). When we are walking in God's grace with a repentant heart, when we are truly in Christ, our old patterns of thinking and living gradually fade away and are replaced with a renewed mind and heart for God (Colossians 1:22-23). By living a life that prioritizes seeking and choosing what God desires for us over what we desire, we are MADE — by God — into a new creation.

I say all this to say, the devil is a liar. A very crafty one.

He appropriates and distorts the very nature and language of God — the truth — to make good look evil and evil look good. And he fiercely blurs the lines between the two, making it difficult to separate one from the other. But if we circle back to his formula:

1. Take something holy that God created

2. Sprinkle it with confusion and lies

3. Present it in its altered state as "good"

And if we examine it against the Word of God, we'll know how to discern and weed out the lies to get to truth.

We'll know that we don't need to recite oaths or perform rituals inspired by false gods to fellowship as sisters and brothers. (Matthew 5:37)

We'll know that we don't need to subject ourselves to physical and/or psychological abuse to show ourselves worthy and approved. (Galatians 1:10)

We'll know that we don't need to throw up a hand symbol, brand our bodies, or rock unique letter-and-color combos to have identity. (Colossians 3:12)

And we'll know that we don't need to do any of the above to serve our communities and one another in love. (Romans 12:10)

All we need — and will ever need — is Jesus.

It took me 10 years and six days in Delta to realize and accept that. And it took me almost three years since renouncing my membership to finally understand it enough to write about it.

All that said, I still, to this day, love every single woman I ever called Soror.

Every single woman I pledged with.

Every single woman who brought me in.

Every single woman I brought in.

Every single woman I chartered a chapter with.

Every single woman I greeted at an event.

Every single woman who inspired me to join this organization.

I love them all.

My decision to leave Delta has nothing to do with the women who brought joy and color to my experience in Delta, because Delta didn't make those women — God did. And though many (not all) of my relationships in Delta unfortunately dissolved with my membership, I still see, love, and appreciate those women for the beautiful Image-bearers they are.

The Lord has a funny way of bringing things full circle. As I've been reflecting on my journey through Delta, He reminded me of the name I was given during my initiation:

Above the Fold

The original meaning was a clever play on a journalism phrase to reflect my love for writing and quirky personality. But looking back, I see what God did there lol.

All the time I spent pursuing, pledging, and going out of my way to be welcomed into the fold of Delta, the Lord was telling me that I was above it. And 10 years later, He brought me out of it.

I share this not to antagonize or condemn anyone who is a member of a Greek-lettered organization (after all, I used to be one). I share this to encourage any Christian who, like me at a certain point, may lack understanding or be wrestling with similar convictions. The Lord placed this directly on my heart for you:

Seek Him.

In prayer.

In fasting.

In the Scriptures.

In wise counsel.

Open your eyes and seek the Truth for yourself (John 8:31). Ask the Lord for the faith, wisdom, discernment, and understanding to walk boldly in it. Ask, and He will give it to you (Matthew 7:7-8) — just like He did for me.

Jesus loves you.

I love you.

And I am praying for you and with you.