Tarred and feathered: Sexual assault in our politics, media, and schools

cw: sexual assault, rape, Title IX

As I was scrolling mindlessly through Twitter at 11:45 PM on Saturday night, I came across this tweet:

“Women who report seuxal misconduct get vetted more than men who run for President.”

Tara Reade’s story is being co-opted by media to denigrate Democrats and Joe Biden on the right, though those same media never vetted Trump and Kavanaugh as much as they vetted the women who were accusing them of sexual misconduct.

And on the left, her story is being either suppressed or torn to shreds by media to ensure Joe Biden’s reputation remains untarnished. Every single colleague, friend of a colleague, encounter of Reade’s is being pored over as these media outlets vet Reade – not Biden. Former staffers of Biden denying any knowledge is not surprising, given the way Tara Reade is being thrown around mass media and social media right now. I wouldn’t want to be Tara Reade right now; would you?

That tweet also made me think of Christine Blasey Ford and Anita Hill and Chanel Miller and the six accusers of Harvey Weinstein; these are the ones at the forefront of my mind, though the list in reality is endless. These women were treated much differently than the men they accused, and much differently than Trump or Biden ever have been.

But that tweet also made me think of how sexual assault is treated on college campuses. 

I think back to my alma mater, Princeton, where a group of student organizers on campus - supported by a large network of alumni spanning generations - protested the Title IX system, shared survivors’ stories, and brought to light the ways through which it protects perpetrators, yet does nothing but discredit, traumatize, and thoroughly vet the experiences of survivors.

I think back to my junior year, working with the campus newspaper, when one of our writers worked endlessly on an investigation into what it took for the university to start a Title IX investigation into the conduct of a conduct of a professor towards female graduate students. 

I think back to my senior year, when a female graduate student filed a Title IX complaint against her adviser, claiming sexual harassment, coming forward, speaking to the Huffington Post and saying, “Although it is not easy to share how I was taken advantage of, I am speaking out.” That professor’s “punishment”? A perfunctory training session, maybe some counseling. We covered this in the newspaper too; it’d take months of outcry, pushback, unnecessary committees and superfluous recommendations to get the professor finally dismissed. 

But above all, I think back to students too often afraid to speak up, too inclined to first question themselves and the legitimacy of their own gut feelings and reactions, too hesitant to report, to have to relive their trauma, to have to face so much scrutiny, all at the risk of losing more than they could gain.

Now, I think to Columbia University, and the long and infamous recent history of sexual assault and rape on this very campus. Emma Sulkowicz, otherwise known as “mattress girl” especially among far-right media outlets, made international headlines by carrying the 50-pound mattress upon which she was assaulted (raped) everywhere around campus. It served as her senior thesis project “Carry That Weight,” as well as a physical reminder of how Columbia failed to respond accordingly to her story and of the weight she has to carry, as a survivor and as someone who chose to come forward publicly, every day. I encourage you to read more about her and all that transpired.

I was entering college - a naive, doe-eyed freshman, finally out of Arizona, raised in a relatively conservative household - when I saw pictures of Emma carrying that mattress everywhere. And now, six years later, I continue to learn about Columbia’s history fraught with sexual harassment and assault claims, brought forth by students and professors we may know, across departments. A lot of it is public - stories and trials available to read on the Internet - while a lot of it remains unseen to most of us. Though given how people who come forward are often treated, that shouldn’t surprise anyone.

I encourage you to do a bit of digging into your own schools, and how they have handled sexual assault cases.

I am cognizant of just how difficult it is to prosecute or rule on a case of assault; most often, it is a he-said versus she-said (not to perpetuate heteronormativity), without much hard evidence. Alcohol and other substances blur lines, undoubtedly. But haven’t we had enough discourse, enough trainings and presentations and protests, enough guidelines, to be better and to do better as a society?

Across all of these stories, one question gnaws at me: Why would anyone, at least in these cases, choose to risk everything, to knowingly accept a future of derision, alienation, and heightened scrutiny, if what they are choosing to speak up about does not carry at least an ounce of truth? These women - all of these women - put everything on the line. They have more to lose, than to gain. So why has our response been to lower the bar for those accused, and raise the standard of proof for the accuser?

Why do we continually politicize sexual assault and rape? 

Why can’t we, almost halfway through 2020, in one of the most purportedly progressive, advanced, democratic countries in the world, choose to for once, listen, really listen, and support people who come forward? To be clear, I’m not advocating to prosecute on the basis of every allegation, but we should be disappointed with the way our politicians, our media, and our schools often handle sexual assault.

Women who report sexual misconduct get vetted more than men who run for President. Here’s to hoping that can change – by changes in policy or drastic shifts in our culture – some time soon. 

And cheers, to being a woman.

Sarah Sakha is a first-year MIA student studying Human Rights and Humanitarian Policy. She has a lot of opinions, and likes to offer them frequently, but that’s not surprising.