RushTok fuels sorority influencer income but sparks backlash and mental health concerns

Kylan Darnell, a 21-year-old rising senior at the University of Alabama, once embodied the phenomenon of “RushTok,” the TikTok-driven trend that highlights the high-stakes, glitzy world of sorority recruitment. Over the past four years, she gained prominence by documenting the experience of being a Zeta Tau Alpha member during rush week—a ritual that has become a cultural touchstone among college students nationwide [1]. However, the intense online attention that initially brought her fame has now led to backlash and harassment, prompting Darnell to step away from sharing her sorority life online [1].

Rush week, a centuries-old tradition, has evolved into a high-pressure event where prospective members compete for spots in sororities through a series of rounds requiring specific outfits, etiquette, and social media presence. In the lead-up, girls submit “social resumes” and seek letters of recommendation from sorority alums. The financial burden is also significant, with some recruits spending tens of thousands of dollars on outfits, travel, and other expenses. At Alabama, each of the approximately 2,600 recruits paid a non-refundable $550 to participate. If accepted, they face semesterly dues ranging from $4,100 to $8,400 depending on housing choices [1].

The emotional and financial stakes have led to the rise of a new industry: consultants who help girls navigate the often-ambiguous criteria for sorority selection. Some charge up to $10,000 for months of guidance, starting as early as high school [1]. Throughout rush week, invite-only events create a tense atmosphere, and at any time, girls may receive the dreaded call informing them they’ve been dropped from consideration.

For some, the rewards of RushTok have been tangible. Morgan Cadenhead, a 20-year-old marketing major, covered most of her tuition through social media income despite being dropped from a sorority. However, the online fame came with significant social costs. She faced intense backlash after criticizing Greek life and has since shifted her focus to offline opportunities [1].

The renewed interest in rush was partly fueled by the resumption of in-person recruiting after the pandemic. TikTok, in particular, became a visual playground for the experience, with “get ready with me” videos and “outfit of the day” posts showcasing designer fashion and curated aesthetics. These posts often go viral, attracting millions of views and enabling participants to monetize their content through ad revenue and brand deals [1].

Despite the allure, the rush experience has become increasingly contentious. Many incoming freshmen at Alabama were explicitly prohibited from speaking with the media or posting about rush week. The most selective “Old Row” sororities reportedly drop prospects who ignore these rules [1]. Darnell said the influx of influencers has shifted the focus of sisterhood, with many girls attending the university solely to capitalize on the trend rather than build genuine connections.

Lorie Stefaneli, a New York City-based consultant who travels to Tuscaloosa annually for rush, said the TikTok portrayals of sisterhood have made Alabama a destination for girls seeking visibility and support. Yet the emotional toll is high. Stefaneli, who often answers calls at all hours during rush week, described her role as part coach, part therapist [1].

Darnell’s 19-year-old sister Izzy, who has her own large following, has continued to post despite the risks. While she credits her sister with teaching her how to handle scrutiny and business offers, she also worries about how other young women might respond to the pressures of fame and money [1].

As RushTok continues to shape perceptions of Greek life, the line between personal branding and community-building grows ever thinner. For now, Darnell is choosing to focus on her education, having used her online success to cover her tuition. But the broader implications—on recruitment, mental health, and the future of sorority culture—remain unresolved [1].

Source: [1]title: The twisted economics of ‘RushTok’: Some sorority pledge influencers can pay their tuition, but they’re fleeing online hate and backlash (https://fortune.com/2025/08/16/what-is-rushtok-sorority-pledge-social-media-backlash/)