Editor’s note: The identity of the author and sources have been kept confidential due to reputational and employment concerns. The University Times has verified the identity and credentials, in addition to the credibility of the sources used.
“It’s one big friend group of lads trying to live out their fantasy jock dream”, one attendee of last December’s frat ball gravely remarks. You can hear the distaste in her voice: she wants the whole night erased from her memory. Like the majority of the girls in attendance, her date had been equivocal as to what the ball was for. Instead, he had led her to believe that the event was for one of Trinity’s sports clubs or courses. The truth was, in fact, a more sinister third thing. “Most of the girls I was talking to were all lied to about what the event was.” It gets worse: there’s merch.
Trinity’s not-so-secret-no-girls-allowed frat, or “Theta Omicron” – if we’re getting up close and personal – was founded in Trinity in 2012 and has been running covertly (ish) ever since. On the official side of things, the frat is registered under the 178-year-old New York-based network Zeta Psi, alongside many of the fraternities in North America. On paper, Theta Omicron operates as a networking device for its members. For example, if a group of members went over to Vancouver, per se or even better, their trip to Oxford earlier this month, the brotherhood of the travelling frat could stay with their brethren there. And better yet, after committing many faithful years to this bizarre macho network, US companies might even open their doors to these lads (or so they dream). Returning to domestic matters, our lads are hard at work running exclusive world-class events and drinking heavily. “But how do they fund this?” You ask. Well, funnily enough, that’s actually where you come in. Introducing TKP nights, our fraternity’s alleged side hustle since the one grand a year from Zeta Psi wasn’t cutting it. And yes, it does stand for something in Greek. If you search it on Instagram under tkp_nights, you’ll find what comes across as your average account promoting club events and DJs that many Trinity students follow. They even generously include women in some of their posts – a jarring juxtaposition given the context, yet quite the adept PR move. Fair play, lads. Without the knowledge of ticket purchasers – or even some of the DJs (the ones that aren’t already in the frat, of course) – the profits of these events have been funding our beloved TO, according to the testimony of several formerly associated with the nightlife series. Those stripy bow ties weren’t cheap, after all. All this, and I haven’t even mentioned the sorority.
Cut to last year’s frat ball, where there was a small minority of American girls studying at Trinity in attendance who were astute as to what was taking place that night. Allegedly, they were in the process of establishing a sorority, which would have operated not as a separate society from the frat, but as a less autonomous branch of it. Sorry, ladies, but there can only be one. These girls didn’t bring any male dates of their own to the ball, so as not to compromise their male brethren, and word on the street is that the sorority never truly kicked off. One attendee remarked on how modelesque and beautiful all the dates were: “Unsurprisingly, the frat brothers all had gorgeous dates – the wonders the ego of an aspirational, ‘mid’ male can achieve.” Cue the speech before dinner, where last year’s frat president (aka finance bro final boss) got up to make a toast. What followed? Cavemen like shouting and roaring, the violent banging of fists on tables and some good old drinking from a shoe. “It was like they were all competing to see who could be the most macho.” The FOMO stings.
Now that you’ve versed yourself in the magical, mystical world of Theta Omicron, you must be thinking to yourself: “How can I make the cut?” If you’re a woman reading this, I hate to be the bearer of bad news. But if you’re the straight, finance-bro, self-serving, he-man type with high aspirations of preserving the patriarchy, a fondness for debauchery, and an older brother that was already in the frat, then you might just be in with a chance – granted you may need to climb to the top of the food chain in at least one big society on campus to secure the deal. A member of the frat who was interviewed by the Irish Times in 2017 painted a more positive picture of his brothers: “They were all quite driven and had their own views; they all held high-profile positions in college societies, and I knew it would be beneficial to have these guys as mentors.” Suit yourself. Once you’re a brother, you can invite up to two members a year, but each brother holds the right of veto and can prevent new prospective members from joining. The lads must prove their commitment by completing a sacred initiation ceremony. I’m sure they have many creative avenues for this, but the most common one I’ve heard involves binge drinking and running around St. Stephen’s Green in hot pants, a tank top and a party hat. After a sufficient amount of intemperance and degradation (and a hefty €140 joining fee), these boys are reborn as men of the brotherhood. And on the condition that they keep the frat a secret, practice their hymns and refrain from wearing any of the merch on campus, they get to live out their fantasy-frat-bro dream. As not to rouse suspicion when on their way to their weekly meetings, they tell their girlfriends they’re off to football training – just don’t ask about the tux in their duffle bag.
On the more disturbing side of things is the real purpose of the frat: infiltrating societies to gain political control. Things work more smoothly for these lads when they’re the ones running things, so you can imagine how incredibly frustrated the brotherhood was last year when both the head of DUBES and SMF last year were women. If they can’t have direct influence over a society themselves, the next best thing is to infiltrate the societies through those around them. Watch out, you may already unknowingly be a pawn in their agenda. Shoutout to all the girlfriends out there tying bow ties for events “you don’t need to worry about”. “It’s all people with notions of power…or popular older brothers,” claims one unfortunate witness. “Those who are passionately against the fraternity have no idea just how ingrained it is into the college community already”, affirms one elder (graduated – unc – member) of the frat, according to the Irish Times. How chilling it is to contemplate the extent to which these guys are shaping our college community with neither our knowledge nor consent.
At present, there are 30 current members in Theta Omicron and 120 alumni who still show up to lurk at these mandatory drink fests on random weekdays. I wonder how that job in America’s going… Theta Omicron’s existence leaves more questions than answers. Where are they getting all this money from? How did they only have €400 in their bank account in 2015, yet can afford to host all of these costly events and even pay members serious cash for odd jobs and to help at events? What other activities are we unknowingly funding, LinkedIn Premium for every brother? How many pairs of vodka-filled shoes have we sponsored? Why are members who graduated over a decade ago still showing up to events? Why does Trinity have a frat in the first place? To what extent are they influencing the college community, and why is it so crucial that they operate in secret? Brethren, come hither, disclose your transactions and unveil to us your true masters.
