A system of silence
The institutional problem with reporting sexual assault
By ANJALI IYER — amiyer@ucdavis.edu
Over the past few weeks, my social media feed has been inundated with commentary surrounding “The Cornell Seven” — a group of men who raped a woman in a Cornell fraternity house in 2024. Instagram and TikTok are abundant with posts condemning both the alleged rapists and the 57 men who read Snapchat messages advertising “free pussy” and did nothing to intervene.
As the case proliferates, countless women are coming forward with their own harrowing stories of sexual abuse they experienced on university campuses. While the circumstances surrounding each case differ, there seems to be a common thread of universities taking insufficient measures to support victims or punish rapists.
The majority of perpetrators face minor consequences given the severity of their actions — if they face consequences at all. Cases of sexual assault regularly go unreported, but even when victims come forward, abusers are rarely subjected to substantial punishment. In the case of the Cornell rapists, two were suspended and one was barred from campus after graduation, while the others were made to write essays — what I can only assume were half-hearted, loosely apologetic reflections on their crimes. The rest of the men in the group chat faced no consequences beyond a tirade of TikTok videos exposing their names and employers.
In response to accounts of sexual abuse on college campuses, academic institutions have a series of measures in place advertised as administrative and legal ways to support victims. Title IX is a federal law that aims to protect students and staff from all forms of sex-based discrimination. Since sexual violence impedes access to education, schools are required to respond to every report. It’s an expansive law that, in theory, helps prevent and rectify cases of discrimination.
Sexual assault is unique from other forms of sex-based discrimination. It’s a crime that robs victims of autonomy and dignity in a violent manifestation of a pre-existing social dynamic. The choice to report rape and assault is often convoluted by factors like a personal connection with the perpetrator and the negative social repercussions associated with pursuing justice. Consequently, it is highly understandable that most victims are terrified to come forward and begin the daunting reporting process.
Particularly in educational settings, if a victim chooses to report an assault to the Title IX office, the university and the perpetrator are notified — personal details relevant to the case are made available to the perpetrator, and the university must open an investigation into the case regardless of if the victim wishes to press charges or stay silent.
From there, both parties gather witnesses and evidence, with the option to employ the advice of a lawyer before appearing in a live hearing. If the university finds a clear violation, they issue a resolution. Though the process is relatively streamlined and prioritises a thorough examination of the case, the university still reserves the power to punish the perpetrator how it sees fit.
The process of facing your abuser and reliving what is likely the worst day of your life is retraumatising, which makes reporting assault an emotionally overwhelming venture. Considering that the extensive process could end with the perpetrator going unpunished, it makes sense that many victims decide against reporting their assaults.
The college campus is a distinct environment that claims to protect rapists, like The Cornell Seven, with a devotion that exceeds the quotidian patterns of victim blaming emblematic of most assault cases. The narrative that expulsion would ruin the prospects of the accused “promising young man” places an outsized emphasis on a purely hypothetical loss to society should the perpetrator face any meaningful justice. This antiquated concept, one that excuses rape and avoids confronting its uncomfortable origin in misogyny, prevails on an institutional level.
The troubling pattern of feeble punishment for rapists remains consistent across the country. Even in the face of a decision of guilt, universities are hesitant to take substantive action and expel the abuser. Any potential impact of the reporting process is fundamentally diluted by the structural prejudices embedded within our academic institutions. As long as we exist within a society that values a rapist’s potential over a victim’s justice, the consequences for sexual assault will remain as lenient as they are now.
The lack of anonymity and rigidity involved in reporting deprives victims of control — the process demands a dichotomous approach to a fundamentally illogical crime. Institutions encourage students to report their cases, but fail to accommodate for the nuances of sexual trauma. Silence is an unintended consequence of a system that places the responsibility of pursuing justice on victims of assault.
Though there may not be one perfect solution that eliminates rape across all campuses, it is evident that our existing measures are insufficient. The stagnant rates of sexual assault indicate that optional online courses and parroting slogans like “no means no” are useless in the face of systemic rape. Perhaps the outrage sparked by Jane Doe’s bravery will open the gates of change. We can no longer continue to accept a world where rapists walk free — we need to finally give victims the justice they deserve.
Written by: Anjali Iyer — amiyer@ucdavis.edu
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