What is the difference between bullying and hazing? I don't think there is much difference, especially to the person that is being hazed. That was what my first semester was like at Anderson College. My roommate was a good guy, but his friends were mostly all rednecks. I didn't get along with them very well. I associated more with the hippies and the creative folks. They just liked to drive souped-up cars and drink beer.
One night, I was asleep, and I heard my name yelled out real loud. I woke up fast to see a large knife headed toward my chest. Just before the blade went into my body, the guy turned the knife around and the handle hit by chest. They all thought it was funny. I about had a heart attack. Another time, they dragged me out of the room and tried to stuff me down the trash chute. I screamed, and they stopped. Another time, they grabbed me by my wrists and hung me over the 2nd floor balcony. Had they dropped me, I would have broken both legs, but they pulled me up. Another time, they moved all of my furniture and bed into the hallway of our suite and locked the dorm door so I would have to sleep in the hall. That one at least had some creativity because the furniture was pretty big. They seemed to enjoy thinking up new ways to make my life miserable. A meeting was held between them and the Dean of Men, and the hazing stopped.
One Sunday night, I was riding back from home with my roommate in his car. He was driving very fast up I-26, when we came upon an elderly woman driving slower than us. I remember asking my roommate what would happen to us if she looked in her mirror and saw us on her bumper, and she panicked. He said that we would just fly right over her car. That was comforting.
I got involved in a couple of clubs around campus. One was the Church Vocations group. I was thinking about going into church work. Another was the Baptist Student Union. The third, and the one I enjoyed the most, was Ivy Leaves. That was the name of the literary magazine for our school. It came out once a year. I was majoring in English, and I wrote a lot, so it was a natural fit. I kept busy after class, because I just didn't want to have to go back to my dorm room. I also went to a church, Boulevard Baptist, every time it was open. And, I read books for a blind student named James. He was black, and still is. He was also very smart and made straight A's.
He wanted to go to my church, so I led him the three blocks from school to the church one Sunday morning. When we got there, the ushers told us that James could not come into the church. I was insulted that this was because James was black. We argued with the ushers, and they said we could come in if we sat in the balcony. The next Sunday, James invited me to his church, which was all black. They welcomed me with open arms.