Paper vs. Made: Rethinking Membership, Standards, and the True Measure of Belonging
- Marcus D. Taylor, MBA
- Jul 27, 2025
- 6 min read
In a culture increasingly centered on belonging and identity, the desire to find “our circle of friends” or a group that aligns with our values is natural—and deeply human. But how far are we willing to go to secure that connection? And once we’re inside that circle, how do we maintain its integrity?
Most groups, whether social, professional, or fraternal, don’t immediately accept outsiders without observation, assessment, or—whether formally or informally—some form of testing. Some test intellectually. Others, psychologically. Still more test emotionally, socially, culturally, or even spiritually. They may observe how you respond to silence, how you handle conflict, or how quickly you adapt to unspoken norms. All of these forms of testing serve one common purpose: to determine who fits.
The Shift in Standards
But what happens when the group starts letting people in without those tests? Or when the standards are lowered—not because they were harmful or outdated, but because they were inconvenient?
That’s when the core of a group begins to shift. And this shift, often subtle at first, can become seismic if left unchecked.
Every organization must pause and ask:
Are we drifting away from our values to accommodate ease?
Is our culture outdated, or have we simply grown lazy in how we enforce it?
Are our processes protecting the essence of the organization—or just mimicking rituals without meaning?
Are we reshaping the culture in our likeness instead of being transformed by the values of the organization?
When we let people in for numbers, image, or external validation—without aligning them to the internal core—we invite erosion disguised as evolution. And when that erosion spreads, individuals begin to create their own norms, sidestepping the expectations and values meant to unite us.
Fraternities, Sororities, and the Misconceptions of Membership
In member-based organizations like fraternities and sororities—especially historically Black ones—these tensions hit home in very specific ways.
Many outsiders (and some uninformed insiders) believe paying a fee for membership means you’re paying for friends. But that couldn't be further from the truth. What you’re really paying for is access to a legacy—a banner of shared values, cultural heritage, communal responsibility, and social impact.
It is not a transaction. It is a transition.
You are joining a community of like-minded people for a greater cause, one built on legacy and purpose. It's about strength in numbers, the merging of vision and values, and the impact that comes when collective effort is aligned with collective responsibility.
But even within, distinctions persist. The terms “made” and “paper” often emerge—labels that suggest a hierarchy based on how someone gained entry.
“Made” is often used to describe those who came through a traditional, more rigorous process—sometimes laced with problematic elements like physical or psychological hazing (which is illegal and banned).
“Paper” is used to describe those who entered through a more administrative or policy-aligned process—implying they didn’t “earn” it in the same way.
Yet both categories, when done properly (without harm), involve learning and spouting the same information, paying the same fees, and pledging the same commitment. And they should be respected when aligned with national policies that protect the integrity and safety of the organization.
The Danger of False Rigor
Some defend more rigorous or even harmful processes; however, if you were to compare careers that require rigour a lot longer and are tested constantly, like law, medicine, or engineering fields, where rigor is a requirement do not require the same as the short-term and unnecessary harmfulness that some think adds to a test of will and endurance. But here’s the truth:
Doctors don’t become better surgeons because someone yelled at them.
Engineers don’t become better designers by being blindfolded and forced to memorize blueprints under pressure.
No one becomes more loyal through trauma.
So why do some still believe harm creates honor?
The answer lies in groupthink, trauma bonding, and anecdotal justifications that try to mask abuse as tradition. But tradition without purpose is just repetition. And harm, no matter how eloquently defended, doesn’t create better members—it creates broken ones.
The only professions that should involve intense testing of endurance—both mentally and physically—are those that demand life-or-death decision-making: the military and first responders. These roles are built on sacrifice, service, and a rigorous standard of training designed to protect lives, not prove loyalty.
Joining a fraternity or sorority, while meaningful, does not equate to those life-critical responsibilities. Furthermore, most individuals within these organizations do not possess the professional training, certification, or ethical authority to conduct such tests—even if they were permitted. To treat membership intake like combat training is not only misguided, but dangerous and irresponsible.
Misreading Rigor: What Invictus Really Teaches Us
Many who advocate for physically or psychologically abusive "processes" in member-based organizations often cloak their defense in the language of resilience, grit, or toughness. They may even quote powerful literary works like Invictus by William Ernest Henley to symbolize the kind of endurance they believe membership requires.
But let’s examine that more closely.
Out of the night that covers me, Black as the Pit from pole to pole, I thank whatever gods may be, For my unconquerable soul.
Invictus is not a celebration of brutality at the hands of others—it is a poem about mental fortitude and personal sovereignty in the face of life’s natural hardships. Nowhere in that timeless piece does Henley promote inflicted suffering as a path to worthiness. The struggle he references is existential, not organizational. It’s about surviving life’s storms—not enduring someone else's storm on your behalf.
Under the bludgeonings of chance. My head is bloody, but unbowed.
That line is not a call to glorify abuse. It is a metaphor. It’s about fate, loss, illness, and the mental resolve needed to overcome. Not about being beaten by someone in the name of “tradition.”
It matters not how strait the gate, How charged with punishments the scroll,I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.
Invictus teaches us that resilience is rooted in inner power—not in external punishment. And if the greatest measure of strength is what you endure for purpose, then purpose—not pain—must be the compass.
So we must ask ourselves: Are we invoking poetry and legacy to uphold values—or to excuse practices that go against the very spirit of those words?
The truth is: resilience doesn’t require abuse, and loyalty doesn’t require wounds. Discipline, consistency, and conviction can be taught without trauma. Our processes should reflect that.
The True Measure of Membership
Being a member shouldn’t require you to be harmed. But it also shouldn’t allow you to coast.
Just as there is danger in hazing, there is danger in handing out access without expectations. Entrance should never be easier than engagement. It’s not about how you got in—it’s about what you do once you’re in.
The true measure of a member is not:
How many bruises you endured,
How long your process was, or
How tough your line brother or sister claims to be.
The measure is:
How well you know the mission and values,
How consistently you live them,
What you sacrifice to sustain them, and
Whether or not your presence moves the organization forward.
The worst kind of member isn’t “paper” or “made.” The worst kind of member is the one who does nothing. Who attends nothing. Who uplifts no one. Who thinks showing up once and wearing letters qualifies them as equal to someone putting in hours, dollars, and sweat equity to serve their community and chapter.
What Kind of Member Are We Guiding, Inspiring, and Building?
In a world that celebrates convenience, we must hold tightly to our convictions.
Belonging is not about bending to be liked—it’s about standing firm to be respected. And membership is not about gaining status—it’s about accepting responsibility.
As members of fraternities, sororities, and mission-driven organizations, we must remember: We are not just choosing members. We are shaping messengers—people who will either carry the torch with integrity or extinguish it with neglect.
So the question isn’t whether someone is “made” or “paper.”
The real questions are:
What kind of member are we guiding, inspiring, and building?
And what kind of legacy are we leaving behind?
#MembershipMatters, #FraternalCulture, #LegacyLeadership, #TrueBelonging, #CommunityImpact, #BrotherhoodByAction, #WhatWeBuild
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