In Loving Memory of Their Dear Brother
It’s pitch black, you are on your knees, and both your ankles and wrists are tied together. You are confused and have no idea where you are. You can smell the alcohol in the air and hear the commotion in the background. You don’t know what to expect, but you do know it won’t be fun. You have now put yourself in the place of George Desdunes. George Desdunes was a member of the Sigma Alpha Epsilon frat at Cornell University and he was hazed to death in February 2011. George was an average student, and like most, he probably never thought his life would end so short. But just a couple hours of hazing ended his life completely. His ankles and wrists were shackled together while his fellow brothers forced alcohol down his throat. After consuming an excessive amount of alcohol, he passed out. Several brothers carried him to the library in the house and left him lying on a couch. His brothers tilted his head so he would not choke on his own vomit, and left him there to perish. How could they call him their brother when they just left him there to die? Why do we want to call these people our friends when we must destroy ourselves in the process? Belonging to a group can create such great and beneficial feelings. So then why do we go through such brutal rituals that cause such damaging feelings to get there?