If you walk into a university—especially a historically Black one—this fall, you might see the steps and strolls of the Divine Nine.
From thepretty-in-pink Alpha Kappa Alpha to the purple-and-gold Omega Psi Phi, the nine Black fraternities and sororities can be found stomping, clapping, chanting, dancing, and singing to signify their unity. On the outskirts of many campuses, members volunteer at food pantries or participate in other types of community service.
Black Greek life has never been merely about parties, alcohol, and red plastic cups. Although it developed to include those things, its roots and ethos date to students who sought to foster deeper bonds as they navigated the harsh realities of systemic racism, including exclusion from Greek life and professional networks at predominantly white institutions.
Christians founded some Black Greek-letter organizations, and over time all of them became beacons of progress and a fixture of African American culture. Many students who pledged made their mark as prominent civil rights activists, authors, actors, and contemporary figures, such as comedian Steve Harvey, Baptist leader Boise Kimber, and former vice president Kamala Harris. Despite more recent criticisms of mission drift and elitism depicted in movies like Spike Lee’s School Daze, Greek life enjoyed widespread acceptance among those who loved Jesus and those who don’t care for him—that is, until now.
Over the past few years, the Divine Nine have become the subject of a robust debate among Black Christians about what it means to have loyalty to Christ today.
On TikTok, Instagram, or YouTube, members have been posting testimonies in which they denounce—and renounce—their partnership in what they claim to be “idolatry” and “ungodly covenants” with Greek life. The Washington Post previously reported that hundreds of videos have been posted, all drawing the ire of other members who view the exodus as misinformed and distracting from the good work these organizations do.
Critics and denouncers—including charismatic social media influencer Tiphani Montgomery—say that the vows (which the organizations don’t publicize but which are known by initiates) are idolatrous and demand a level of devotion that should only be reserved for God.
Some critics mention legitimate concerns about sin, like hazing or debauchery found across all Greek houses, including predominately white ones. They also highlight what they see as problematic symbols (the sphinx for Alpha Phi Alpha, the Roman goddess Minerva for Delta Sigma Theta) and what appear to be self-glorifying hymn lyrics (“Delta! With glowing heart we praise thee”).
If I had my wish, people would be talking about reforming concrete problems, like hazing, in these organizations or giving Christians a blueprint on how they can faithfully participate in historic and pluralistic institutions that have shaped our communities. But the back-and-forth can often become silly, panic-filled, and theologically loose, with some critics wrongly accusing members of jeopardizing their salvation or being morally compromised in some way because of their involvement.
The debate ratcheted up in recent weeks after gospel singer Travis Greene preached a sermon in which he mentioned that his involvement with a fraternity in college led to idolatry as well as “pride and perversion.”
Days later, rapper Lecrae posted a video discussing his own story of leaving a Black fraternity because the lifestyle did not mesh with following Jesus. At the same time, he counseled listeners to avoid throwing out the baby with the bathwater and instead to treat the issue as a matter of conscience and liberty (Rom. 14). Prominent pastor Eric Mason offered a similar take and told people to stop demonizing other Christians who disagree on the issue. Some Black church leaders have also done the same, though others have told people to get out of Greek life.
Though the drama can feel like just another online kerfuffle, it presents a legitimate challenge to a long-standing institution in the Black community and the role of us Christians within it. Throughout American history, the Black church and Black culture have often overlapped, creating deep bonds with cultural institutions that have fought for our communities more so than the broader American church.
I grew up with Black Greek parents, listening to their stories about pledging Alpha Kappa Alpha or Omega Psi Phi in college. My mother pledged at the now-defunct Bishop College with classmates who went on to become well-known pastors and ministry leaders. As a child, my earliest memories included her teaching me the Greek alphabet with the fun tune she had memorized. My father, meanwhile, often endured late nights of spontaneous meetings to support his fraternity.
My parents loved their organizations and faithfully served in our home church for over 30 years. I also wanted to join a sorority but never got the chance to pledge. During my freshman year in college, the president of the historically Black university I attended barred every Greek organization from recruiting new members after a student tragically died during a hazing ritual.
When I saw people fighting about Greek life years later, I was a bit torn. I agreed with arguments about excessive party lifestyles. Even if their claims were overblown, I could also see why many people didn’t like the shroud of secrecy that surrounded the oaths or felt uncomfortable with certain song lyrics or symbols.
But I was annoyed by strange and hyperbolic claims about covenants, rituals, and even Satan himself being the “father” of these organizations. One influencer went even further, saying many Christians involved in Greek life would die because of their association.
The entire ordeal sparked discussions about why, culturally, it seems everything inherently Black seems to get demonized. Members called on people to refrain from judging entire organizations and to show nuance by disentangling the good from the bad. But overnight, leaving a Black Greek letter organization had suddenly emerged as a mark of faithfulness.
On college campuses, Christian ministries are navigating how to provide counsel the right way.
At Howard University, campus pastor Cyril Chavis said students have approached him this fall to ask whether they should join Greek life. “There are more and more Christians that believe categorically it is a sin to join Black Greek letter organizations and there are no gray areas—it’s a black-and-white issue,” he said during an interview.
The subject has also been a hot topic within InterVarsity Christian Fellowship. Chelir Mule-Kivindyo, an associate national director for the organization’s Black Campus Ministries division, said leaders and staff members are working to put together materials that help students think through the issue, mainly because of all the bad theology they’re receiving—and regurgitating—from social media.
“For some people, they don’t need to go Greek. They are going to idolize it,” said Mule-Kivindyo, who is a member of Delta Sigma Theta. “But when it comes to losing your salvation, that’s not biblical. I don’t drink alcohol, because the Lord told me to stop, but that doesn’t mean every Christian should stop drinking alcohol.”
It’s true that maturity is knowing that God convicts us all of things differently and the application, including for Greek life, shouldn’t be pushed on everyone. But it’s also incumbent upon Christians to avoid being complacent about, or worse, complicit in pervasive problems.
Just this year, a student at Southern University died from an alleged off-campus hazing incident while pledging to join Omega Psi Phi. Wendy Johnson, a graduate of Spelman College who left Alpha Kappa Alpha in the early 2000s, told me there are also other issues that need to be confronted.
Johnson had high hopes when she initially went into sorority life. But she soon became concerned with the culture of exclusivity, favoritism, and status-seeking behavior that she said emanated from other members.
She continued to feel uneasy about it after graduating and seeing some women who showed “obsession” with joining a graduate chapter. Eventually, she sent an email to other members saying she did not want to be involved in the sorority.
“I represent Christ,” Johnson, who works as a doctor in New York, told me.
“I don’t want anyone to see me being a card-carrying sorority member and for that to somehow speak more loudly than me being a Christian,” she said. Wherever one lands on this issue, we can at least agree to that.
Alyssa Rhodes is a writer and content editor for RightNow Media and a writing contributor for the R.H. Boyd Publishing Company. She is a graduate of Dallas Theological Seminary and lives in Dallas, Texas.
