Editor’s Note: As an Op-Ed, this piece does not reflect any opinions of the Quad as a whole. We accept Op-Ed pieces at email@example.com.
Intro by Meghan Ross.
A certain exaggerated #BU-based Twitter account has been creating a lot of buzz beyond just this side of the Charles River, and it’s not the recently-retired @BUSnowAlert or the many exhausted versions of #BU (insert easily-stereotyped part of student population here) problems. There’s actually not many references to the fact that they’re a #BU-based account on their Twitter page, aside from the Twitter bio which deems them “BU bitties, hooching and husband hunting at Harvard Final Clubs.” But don’t mistake them for the many other BU bitties that plague our campus with their matching jeggings and Longchamp bags, who think that a 12-person bitty reunion in the middle of Comm. Ave.’s sidewalk (conveniently blocking non-bitties from rushing to their classes) is “totes appropes” (bitty talk defines this as “totally appropriate”). Contrary to bitty definition, the @HarvardHoochies are actually (dare I say), pretty damn smart, and funny to top it off.
I came across their Twitter account after @BUSnowAlert was introduced to BU bitties and non-bitties everywhere and while I was looking up what other anonymous, BU student culture-inspired accounts have been coming out of the woodworks. I found their tweets amusing and thought nothing more than it being a source of entertainment and a peek into what it’s like to party at the infamous Harvard final clubs. Little did I know that in the following couple months, @HarvardHoochies would influence countless Harvard men (from final club members to athletes) to join Twitter and engage in 140 character-conversations predominantly with @HarvardHoochies. Aside from being able to boast about that, they’ve been mentioned in a Newsweek article, interviewed by The Harvard Voice’s blog Noice (with a follow-up rebuttal by some of the very Harvard final men they hunt and hooch), mocked by comedy news show “On Harvard Time,” and could be held responsible for the creation of @fuckimaRUHG and @HarvardDouches. They may choose to remain anonymous to the Twitterverse, but their Op-Ed for this issue of the Quad is as revealing as their outfits they don on nights spent at Harvard final clubs, best described by themselves of course:
I think it’s safe to say that the tendency for Boston University women to cross the river comes from sheer sexual frustration. For those of you who don’t know, the BU student population consists of around 60% women and just 40% men. Making a highly educated guess, I’d say that out of the 40% of BU students that are male, half are gay. We love gays, but you can only make out with a gay man so many times before restlessness sets in. That leaves the other half of the male population at BU. Out of this straight half, about 75% are either heinously unattractive, in exclusive hook-up arrangements or even worse, in long-distance relationships. This leaves the Boston University female community with just a fraction of attractive man-meat to lust after. Needless to say, this not enough to satisfy our appetites and keep us occupied for 4 years of blacking out. I thank this uneven male to female ratio for birthing the Harvard Hoochies.
The Harvard Hoochies (HH) was founded in 2010 by seven Boston University women. Similar to a secret final club, the HH has personalized rituals and terminology that only members know. The HH frequent the following final clubs at Harvard in order to husband hunt and successfully hook up: The Delphic, The Fox, The Fly, The Phoenix, The Owl, The AD (uhh…RIP?) and The Spee. In terms of final club “tours,” we go along with them because we clearly know where it’s headed. You don’t need to show us Matt Damon on the Delphic tour yet again, thanks.
In 2010 a blog and Twitter account were created then quickly shut down due to the large amount of attention they generated. Now, the HH has a Twitter account (@harvardhoochies). Our bio reads: “We are BU Bitties, hooching and husband hunting at Harvard final clubs. We ward off RUHGS (random ugly Harvard girls)…frequently.”
The constant presence of @harvardhoochies on Twitter has provoked many of the Harvard final club scene’s biggest players, sexiest manimals and of course, RUHGs and women who claim we’ve taken a step backwards for the feminist movement to create their own accounts. Just to tickle the readers, I’ll have you know that I once wrote a paper on how the trimming trends of pubic hair have oppressed women. Anti-feminist we are not. Sarcastic individuals who enjoy a good joke, we are. We will cop to the fact that every weekend after a night of drinking some of our dignity has dissolved, but if our dignity is going to take a hit, then why not spend $12 on a cab and wake up to the beautiful microcosm that is Cambridge and the egotistical students it houses.
The Harvard Hoochies have benefited from the ability to put on heels and a tight hooker-esque dress (not-so-subtly hidden by a blazer) with one goal in mind: to have our Taylor Swift “Love Story” and live happily ever after … on Mt. Auburn St. To put it simply, it is just as easy to fall in love with the beauty of Cambridge as it is with a semi-charismatic, beautiful-if-you’re-lucky Harvard final club member who oozes East Coast sex appeal in his pastel polo, khaki slacks and pair of Sperrys. Don’t forget those keepers who don baseball caps coupled with formal attire (Social Network much?).
Meeting by chance during during our first years at Boston University, the seven HH bonded over our Harvard escapades, frequently swapping stories of final club parties, trysts in Harvard Square and of course, those juicy tales of hook-ups gone awry. Beginning as a BBM group, the Harvard Hoochies have been somewhat controversial within the final club scene that is the essence of old Harvard. All seven of us pride ourselves on being intelligent, personable, self-deprecating, semi-psychotic women comfortable with our sexuality and our intentions – comfortable enough to embody BU bitties via @harvardhoochies who travel in packs to invade Harvard final club parties oh so very often. All of us can safely admit that we know Cambridge better than we know our own apartments. Final club hopping during the darkest of nights? No problem. But during daytime? Sorry, wrong number.
The seven of us are severely aware of just how comedic it is that we come to the Square in search of academic, elite, wealthy, and at times, athletic men in hopes of finding an honorable strapping gentleman to bring home to mom. In fact, what we get the majority of the time is equivalent to the average college student: make out sluts interested in a one-night story of dancing, drinking and hooking up. Sometimes we sprinkle in a brunch at Market in the Square the next morning that average bitties toddle to in their heels, eyeliner smeared up to their forehead. The difference between us and those girls? If you’re an HH, you were prepared with flats and tights in your clutch to soften the prostitute look you were going for just hours earlier.
Admittedly, we are infatuated with the secrecy and exclusivity that Harvard final clubs embody. To be in a final club is synonymous with being the best of the best, and to hook up with the best of the best has become a personal honor that several BU girls pride themselves on. After countless nights of club hopping, it becomes clear that the men within these houses are well aware of the final club title appeal and the ease of hooking up that comes with it.
The HH can be seen on weekends in the Square.