Sandra Manthers’ new novella “Abandoned” throws readers into the middle of a night that twelve young women will never forget: naked, barefoot, and wearing only see-through nightgowns, they are abandoned in a remote forest—a “test” that will determine whether they are accepted into the prestigious sorority Gamma Xi Delta. The air is humid, the ground uneven, and with every step it becomes clear: this is not about community. This is about power.
The protagonists—including ambitious Madison, traumatized Noor, and vulnerable Layla—wander through the undergrowth, while the fear of the ranger who might catch them further crumbles their already fragile facade. When they finally hide behind a bush, pressed body to body, the humiliation becomes a collective experience: the wet fabric sticks to their skin, the men’s glances (later, in the shower) are already anticipated, and the question of whether they will survive this night is not only physical – but emotional.
Manther’s prose is relentless. She describes not only the coldness of the moss underfoot or the tingling of insects on bare skin, but above all the silent agreement that these women break with themselves in order to belong. “Exposed” is not a novel about sisterhood. It is a novel about the price of belonging.
Greek Life: Where tradition meets trauma
For German readers, the scenario may seem like a relic from a dark college movie – but the “Greek system,” the world of fraternities and sororities at US universities, is reality. Over 9 million students in the US are members of one of these organizations, which not only involve parties and networking, but also hierarchical rituals and, often enough, hazing—the systematic humiliation of newcomers.
The admission of new members, known as “pledges,” follows a strict selection process that often lasts for months: Applicants must present themselves at “rush events,” are invited to interviews, and finally – if they are lucky – are “bidded,” i.e., officially proposed for admission. But the real test begins after that: the “pledge period”, during which the newcomers must prove their loyalty. This can start off innocently enough – with small tasks such as fetching coffee or cleaning the dorm rooms of the older sisters. But in many sororities (and especially fraternities), it quickly escalates into hazing.
Hazing: The dark side of tradition
“Exposed” is not an isolated case. In fact, abandoning pledges in remote areas is a documented hazing ritual that occurs time and again – for example, in 2018 at the University of Alabama, where pledges to a sorority were left in a wooded area for hours, or in 2021 at Pennsylvania State University, where new members had to endure sub-zero temperatures outdoors.
But what is hazing anyway? The term encompasses any form of humiliation, physical or psychological abuse imposed on newcomers to prove their “worthiness” to the group. This includes:
- Physical exertion (standing for hours, sleep deprivation, forced extreme sports)
- Psychological humiliation (insults, forcing people to perform humiliating acts)
- Sexual assault (nudity, forced intimate acts – as in “Exposed”)
- Dangerous dares (excessive drinking, risky tasks)
Hazing is officially banned in 44 of the 50 US states. But the reality is different: the rituals take place in secret, and the victims remain silent – out of fear, shame, or because they believe it is simply part of the process.
Trauma instead of tradition: why hazing is more than just “a bit of fun”
For unsuspecting students, hazing can be a traumatic experience – with long-term consequences. Studies show that victims of hazing are more likely to suffer from anxiety disorders, depression, and PTSD later in life. Many break off the ritual – and with it, often their social ties to the university. Others, like the protagonists in “Exposed”, continue because the price of quitting seems even higher than that of submission.
What is particularly insidious is that hazing is often sold as a “character test.” “If you can endure it, you belong” is the logic. But in reality, it is rarely about strength. It is about control. About the power of the older over the younger. About the perverse pleasure of seeing others break.
Sandra Manthers’ novel ruthlessly exposes precisely these mechanisms.
When her protagonists tremble in the forest, when they later feel exposed to the gaze of the fraternity brothers in the shower, it is not about “initiation.” It is about violence. And about the question: How much of yourself are you willing to give up in order not to be alone?