I’m a Sorority House Mother. Their Views on the 2024 Election Surprised Me

As a sorority house mother, I’m a daily eyewitness to the lives of young women in America. Knowing their generation can sway the results of this upcoming presidential election is a point of great fear.
I’m not ready for a younger group to have this much power. What do they know about the economy? About international relations?
Last spring a storm briefly took out our electricity and my girls were overcome with the sudden darkness.
“Can we still flush the toilet without power?” they asked. “Do I have to get out of the shower?”
This 18 to 24-year-old voting bloc has barely even been around the block. Yet America’s youngest voters are poised to shape the nation’s politics. This House Mom was skeptical they are up to the task. I wondered if they were even interested in playing that role.
So I asked them.
Unexpectedly, every one of the 18 and 19-year-olds I interviewed is planning to vote; most of them have already registered. They watched the presidential debate in June. Half watched at least one of the national conventions.
Their assessment of those conventions surprised me. They described them as negative and too polarized. One woman even said the DNC was “off the rails.” When pressed she said: “All they did was criticize Trump.”
To be clear, it wasn’t former president Donald Trump she was defending; it was Trump’s right to be who he chooses to be. Earning respect from this generation comes at a cost of standing up for the individual, every individual.
Last year we had a spate of theft in the sorority, and the culprit was identified. Was she ostracized? Asked to leave? No. She was asked to return the items. Calling out other people is not a thing in these young women’s world, and they cringe when it happens.
Another surprise: While some older voters are asking for more talk of policy, the young women in my world are asking for character. But they won’t admit it.
When I asked them directly if a candidate’s character was important, they fell quiet. They wouldn’t say yes, yet our entire conversation had just been about their wistful and frustrating search for a president who represented people of fairness, justice, honesty, trustfulness, and moderation.
I suspect that “character” is a word that sounds too much like “convention.” Convention is society’s rules, and these women have been rebelling against social rules since they were old enough to choose a pronoun.
One look at their Halloween costumes will tell you how they generally feel about conventional behavior, including modesty or frostbite guidelines.
I’ve found that if Gen Z has a theme it is tolerance for others. As a result, Harris and Trump are making no points with this voting bloc by publicly judging each other and making mean and condemning accusations.
It may be helpful to remember that women in this age group are lied to by men every single weekend. The men in these women’s lives court them by trying to slip drugs in their drinks.
No wonder I heard woman after woman voice deep suspicion about both candidates.
“How do we know they are telling the truth or just telling us what they think we want to hear?” one woman said.
This is the political version of the sobbing protest, “but he told me he loved me.” Once you have air-kicked that football, everyone in your world is slightly suspect.
They all scorned celebrity endorsements, and even voiced resentment that anyone would think they were so shallow as to fall in line behind an entertainer.
“Who Taylor Swift votes for means nothing,” said one woman dismissively. “What does she know about politics? She is a singer.”
Her sorority sisters nodded, except for one who put in a word for RFK, Jr. “He is the only one who has any right to recommend a vote because he knows the system and he knows the candidates.” No mention of his brain worm or a dead bear.
Yet if my 18 and 19-year-old housemates are more tolerant of bizarre remarks and bad behavior than their grandmothers would be, I’m relieved they’re paying such close attention.
Eight years ago, my young charges woke up on the day after the election in real tears.
“How did this happen?” they wailed.
I had to restrain myself.
The day before, I had recruited those same girls all day, channeling my best Susan B. Anthony. The responses to my get-out-to-vote campaign were varied but negative: Too busy, not sure how to vote, not interested, not my thing.
And the result? In November 2016 we elected a man as our president who represented almost nothing about those young women.
This time around, the outcome may very well be different. It’s possible America will put a president in the White House who looks and sounds a lot more like the population I share the salad bar with.
But I hope Harris isn’t counting on young women to turn out for her just because of her gender, let alone race.
An African American woman who labeled herself a “double minority” said: “Of course I’m glad that a Black woman is running for president, but that doesn’t automatically get her my vote.”
She was drilling deeper, looking for policies and points of view that aligned with hers.
Abortion may do it. Without question, the sorority sisters I spoke to agreed that abortion should be legal in every state. Their feelings were strong and that may carry this group to the polls for Harris. But there will be no marching band.
They may be more engaged than I expected, but I wouldn’t call the voting bloc I live with energized. They’re neither particularly impressed with the 2024 presidential candidates nor especially outraged.
When I brought up Trump’s treatment of women, a point I thought would be a hot button, I didn’t hear the indignation I was expecting. Perhaps I’m the one who’s naïve.
I look at these young women and I’m astonished by how many opportunities their generation has—to play sports, to get a top-notch education, to pursue any career they want, and to expect the public to take them as seriously as pundits now take Harris after her impressive debate performance.
I thought they would be furious that voters were even considering a person convicted of abuse and battery.
Instead, I heard this, spoken with a shrug: “Everyone knows Trump is a total douche bag.” A man assaulting a woman? Tell these gals something they haven’t heard before.
Joan Nuxoll is a freelance writer who lives at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor, Michigan where she works her day job as a House Mother for Alpha Delta Pi Sorority.
All views expressed are the author’s own.
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