My Story
CW: Sexual Assault, Drugging, Institutional Betrayal
In the first semester of my sophomore year, I began volunteering with the Conduct & Integrity office with different programs and events they sponsored. One that is very near and dear to my heart is The Red Flag Campaign. Through my involvement with this campaign, I began to understand and grasp just how prominent and widespread these issues were. I learned as much as I could about sexual violence. I read reports. I listened to people tell their stories. I went to our State Capitol and lobbied for bills surrounding campus sexual assault. I was riding high knowing that I had finally found that one thing that set my soul on fire.I knew the statistics; I knew the warning signs. I knew what to do and what not to do.
Because I was so knowledgeable about all of this, I knew I could stop something from happening if I was ever in that position, until I couldn’t.
I never thought something terrible would happen to me, until it did.
When I was speaking at this event, I was just someone who had a passion for bringing awareness to an issue too often shut down and silenced.
One year later, I never expected to be a part of one of those statistics.
On one of the biggest party weeks in my college town, I decided to let loose a little and go out. We arrived on the campus of the neighboring all-male college and began making rounds at different parties in the circle. I was not familiar with the different fraternities or houses so I just tagged along behind my friends. We moved from house to house and eventually ended up talking on the grass outside of a fraternity I’d never been to before.
I was offered an unopened beer and saw nothing wrong with accepting it. It wasn’t a twist-off bottle and I didn’t have a bottle opener on me at the time. The guy who offered me the beer saw I was having trouble getting it open so he called over one of his friends who had one. I handed over the beer, he went behind me, opened the beer, came around the other side of me, and handed it back.
I took a sip and that’s the last thing I remember. I don’t even remember leaving the yard where we had all been standing.
Although I do not remember details or much of what happened that night, I am certain that terrible, awful things occurred. Things that have flipped my life upside down. Things that I would never wish on anyone, not even my worst enemy.
I was raped. I was drugged and raped.
This was after all of my involvement. This was after I knew the prevalence of sexual assault on college campuses. This was after I knew that it was never the survivors fault — but why did I still think it was?
At some point in the night, in one of my very brief moments of consciousness, I very clearly remember thinking to myself, “This is it. You’re going to die tonight.”
It is very possible that I would not be here if it weren’t for the people that helped me that night. I was left on the corner of a porch behind a grill. Someone spotted me and came over the see if I was alright. When it became very obvious that I was not, this guy called over two of this other buddies and began to help me. They used my thumb print to get into my phone and call the last person I had texted.
They somehow managed to get me up and carry me about three football fields away so I could get to my friend’s car. I was not able to walk, talk, lift my arms… anything. We also passed two police officers, who did nothing. I was being carried, unconscious, and they did nothing.
By the skin of my teeth, I made it through that night, but so many often do not.
I was a lucky one.
What happened to me was not lucky, but the fact that I am here able to share, is indeed. A few years later, the hashtag #WhyIDidn'tReport took off. I had reported, but honestly, sometimes I wish I hadn't.
For an overwhelming portion of survivors who do report, this is not an unpopular opinion. I have lost track of the number of women I know who deeply wish that if they could turn back time, they would not have reported their harasser or assault. That says a lot.
It's important to understand the rampant toxic masculinity culture that is bred at the college where I was assaulted. I believe the way I was treated during my Title IX investigation was a direct result of this.
It was rather confusing to me at the time because on the outside, it looked and felt like I was being supported by the Title IX administrator but come to find out, it was the exact opposite. There were little things said here and there that made me think this, but I did not want to believe that was the case. Long story short, I was told there was no real way for me to prove that anything happened that night. They also told me that they were not pursuing my case anymore because there were 6 other open cases against the same fraternity and adding mine would "not make a difference."
There were many other comments and actions (or lack thereof) made but for my own mental preservation, I'd rather not revisit those. When I started speaking publicly about my dissatisfaction with the process, I was accused of being a threat to my own campus community for spreading false information and creating hysteria when all I was doing was speaking my truth. This escalated to the point of my university police force and President becoming involved. To me, now, this all still feels like a dream. I lost complete faith in all the institutions I came in contact with... those institutions that were supposed to protect me and the same institutions that preach student advocacy and leadership.
