An inside look at the sisterhood that exists on Upper Campus

Just call us Kappa Kappa Kostka

An average-looking partially Irish boy in Bean Boots probably named Sean, Kevin, Nick, or Brian waits for me to answer their well-practiced “so, where are you living this year?” while we wait in the marathon of an Eagles Nest line.

Ah, yes, haven’t heard this question before. I’m in Kostka, smooth-talker.

“Oh. So you wanted to live with a bunch of lesbians or did you just really want to be on Upper?”

You’re giving me just two options, Bean Boots? Come on. You got into BC. You can do better than that weak, ignorant analysis of my living situation that just happens to be in the only all-girls dorm.

Kostka is one of the most suspicious yet intriguing places here on campus, particularly for the masses of freshmen boys who are utterly convinced it’s a place they want to be. Are we lesbians? Feminists? Prisoners? Regina Georges? All are feasible options, yes.

Many people find themselves entirely turned away by the harsh lighting, lack of a lounge, and narrow hallways, thus forming rash judgments on those of us who inhabit this laundry-less institution. The truth is that although some of us are lazy heavy sleepers who requested The Women’s Experience to escape the never-on-time Newton Bus, many of us didn’t even know this place existed when we gave this school a deposit.

People say Greek life does not exist at Boston College. Think again, my dear Jesuits.

Here in Kostka, we have our own shirts. We have our own hand sign (think DG or Theta). Come check out one of our chapter meetings, also known as HOWLs, which are always complete with good food, usually Taylor Swift, and wise advice from our one and only Big who just also happens to be the person that scours our rooms for foam mattress pads every now and then.

Of course, because these intimate Wednesday night gatherings are only every other week, a dark cloud hangs over the building on the off days. We occasionally engage in mixers, though less than reluctantly, with the other side of the hall or maybe even some Chevy boys. After a Saturday night, we are giddy about returning to Kostka to share every detail of our evenings with all of our sisters as an RA yells at us to be quiet.

She’s just jealous of our sisterhood, obviously.

And when the semester ends – tragically, way too soon – we will depart our home with our monogrammed Kostka tumblers and towels and hug everyone as we go. Though next year we move forward, we will constantly seek out the Littles who have replaced our presence in these halls, wondering if they are living up to our philosophies and traditions.

And even though for most, calling your box of a dorm room at BC “home” feels like a slip-up, that is not the case for us.

We are Kappa Kappa Kostka, after all.

More
Boston College