Introducing a Rare Kind of Rush

Yahya said, "We should step up into the light."

For the sunset prayer, they moved into a hall of the UMBC commons building and lined up facing Mecca. An ethereal voice rose and fell in Arabic, and the rows of kneeling women rose and fell, dropping softly forward to the carpeted floor.

A couple of male students in cargo shorts passed nearby, staring.

After the prayer, the women went back in the room and gathered around the table of hors d'oeuvres, meeting one another or catching up, just like any sorority rush.

It reminded Tasmim Anwar of the stories she'd heard at Johns Hopkins. "My friends would go to rush events, stay up all night talking to each other, wear high heels," she said, half wistful, half laughing at herself. "That sounds like so much fun."

But then again, she said, sororities "have that reputation, which you hear right away." She thought she'd have to keep explaining, over and over, why she couldn't do this, why she wouldn't do that.

Because she's not strict enough to wear hijab, her friends are often surprised to find out she's so religious. "They're like, 'Muslim people are cool!' " she said. "Yeah, we are. We have fun, too! They think Muslim people are locked in their houses."

Anwar came hoping to find something new, a middle ground between the stereotypes of Muslims and sorority girls. It didn't sound awful, as she thought it might, a weird kind of Sunday school thing. It sounded fun.

Since then she's been telling her friends how cool Gamma Gamma Chi would be -- already talking them up, maybe, for next year's rush.