A Century of Sisterhood

We'll be conceited AKAs until the day we die,

then it was all in good fun. That kind of peacockism is a long-standing tradition in the black community and harkens back to African ceremonial costuming. It was fueled by the need for self-recognition in the years before blacks held any status in the larger society.

And it has fueled rivalries. The fiercest is between the AKAs and another black sorority, Delta Sigma Theta Inc., which boasts its own impressive list of members and accomplishments. Their competition informs campus rumor mills, quests for step-show bragging rights, and, for decades, a standard song at AKA weddings: " Don't let my daughter go Delta!"

That, too, is mostly all in fun. Mostly.

Like all the black sororities and fraternities facing competition from the expanded organizational options for African Americans, AKA's fiercest debates are existential. Centennials are marked by duality; celebration is tempered by questions of direction and viability.

Last week on TheRoot.com, AKA Autumn Saxton-Ross, a health and wellness coordinator in Montgomery County, wrote that although the sorority has a distinguished history of collective work and service, "I worry about what message we are sending in the last photo taken in our publication, the Ivy Leaf, which showed our president [and other officials] on Howard's campus in full-length furs. . . . I worry about the caste system created by a $1,908 VIP pass" for Boule.

Sophia A. Nelson, corporate counsel for a Northern Virginia contractor and a member of one of the Boule host chapters, Xi Omega, was initiated into the sorority in 2005, but says she wanted it since she was a teenager. She says for the sorority to live up to its promise, its members have to work. She calls president Barbara A. McKinzie's emphasis on economic empowerment vital, but says that women also are "looking for that connection. They want a feel for the women they are with. They want the camaraderie."

Women have many more options, she says, book clubs and professional black women's organizations, that offer intimacy. "The [black sorority and fraternity system] involves a lot of financial investment." Additionally, "most people are really busy and don't want to give up that first Saturday every month. Sorors are married with kids and lots pulling at you." For those coming in new, the challenge is "how do we move it forward, without losing who we are?"

She thinks the sorority has addressed some of its long-standing issues. There are AKAs "of every shade, every hue," Nelson says. The more difficult challenge is "how do we compete in terms of our service to mankind in a world of nonprofits?"

It's a serious matter. But she thinks the halls of the convention center, bathed in pink and green for the sorority's 100th anniversary, are a beautiful place for thousands of her AKA sisters to come up with answers.

Lonnae O'Neal Parker is a nonactive member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority Inc.