Last week, I set out to write an article that would generate a different kind of discussion surrounding the highly publicized decision in a sexual assault case at Kenyon College. I think it’s safe to say it generated discussion, and I want that to continue. This week, I also want to narrow my scope a bit more and focus on two things: addressing the issues raised by people who were unhappy with my first article and offering a more concrete picture of what I believe change at Kenyon should look like. I think it’s important to work the dissenting voices into this piece because they showed me that I need to make myself clearer on some points.

One of the issues I was challenged on following my first article was with regard to sexual assault being a national issue. The individual did not feel that I adequately addressed sexual assault on the grand scale, saying that I focused too narrowly on Kenyon. To that I say: that was intentional. I firmly believe that change is most effective when it is implemented on a small scale and gradually expanded upon. At Kenyon, the student body has an incredibly unique opportunity to discuss and experiment with changes we would like to see in society, but currently, we are letting that opportunity pass us by.

Another, more sensitive issue that was brought to my attention, was that people read my article as a defense of rape culture and victim-blaming. I want to make myself crystal clear: I do not, in any capacity, defend or excuse rape culture, and I do not believe that a person ever deserves to be assaulted, under any circumstances. Most, if not all, women by this point in our lives have experienced some form of assault, be it verbal, physical, or sexual. I am not an exception, which is information I deliberately withheld in my first article. However, one could have assumed, based on both the topic of sexual assault and the fact that I am a 21-year old woman in college, that I had experienced assault in some form or another by now. But no one who expressed anger over my article thought to consider that likelihood. This made the negative messages I received all the more concerning to me, because the individuals wrote as though I couldn’t possibly understand what it means to be a victim of assault. Because of this, I ask that people check themselves before they presume to speak with total authority on a subject that affects every woman. We all, collectively, share the power to speak on the subject as we so choose, and to compartmentalize the “right” way to discuss sexual assault within one’s own personal experience is wrong and weakens our unity as women.

While presumption that I lacked both understanding and empathy for victims of sexual assault concerned (and angered) me, it was also an enlightening moment because I realized something: If we want to have productive conversations about sexual assault on campus, individual stories cannot be at the forefront of the discussion. Survivors must be willing to put the emotion of their personal experiences on the backburner, to let the rage they feel at the memory of their experience cool until a steady, rational flame remains. Only then can an open discussion about sexual assault prevention happen. Why? Because a progressive campus agenda on sexual assault needs to take into account as many people as possible. I’m not saying that individual stories shouldn’t be shared, but there is a time and a place for them (support meetings, between close friends, counseling sessions, etc.) and in looking ahead to discuss what needs to change on campus, individual pasts and considering the present campus climate need to be separated. I am drawing this conclusion based off of my own experiences with the women who came forward objecting to my first article, because in being so determined that I should hear their stories, they neglected to consider that my views could be based on my own experiences—experiences that are just as valid as theirs.

I believe that change must start with the students if true progress is to be made in preventing sexual assault. Based on what I’ve heard and read, it seems that what we really want from the administration is more transparency and discussion on what constitutes sufficient evidence. I would add that we should seek more of this on both sides, that learning about what happens to the accused throughout the process is just as important as learning about the process the accuser goes through. An unwillingness to learn about both sides implies that we want any accusation of sexual assault to be taken as confirmation of guilt, an implication with which I wholeheartedly disagree. We cannot understand what renders an accusor’s evidence insufficient without also examining the standard for sufficient evidence on the side of the defendant, and vice versa.

I would also like to suggest that there is a difference between victim blaming and discussing the responsibilities held by those at risk of being sexually assaulted. From the time we’re children, we’re taught that our actions could have consequences and that the element of risk depends on what course of action we take. When we’re kids, we can avoid most consequences and lower that risk by “doing the right thing.” But we all know by now that adulthood is rarely that clear-cut, particularly because we know that the threat of sexual assault exists regardless whether we are drunk or sober. In an ideal world, yes, women would be able to go out and party without fear of being taken advantage of, but that simply isn’t the present reality. Study after study has found an existing correlation between alcohol and incidents of sexual assault, and to dismiss that information as support for victim blaming is foolish. Reminding someone to be conscious of their drinking limits at a pregame or party isn’t a precursor to blame; it’s utilizing the fact that responsible alcohol consumption might lower the likelihood of an ever-present threat. That being said, I also think it’s high time that drinking limits with regard to male tolerance enter the discussion; just because men don’t carry the burden of risk nearly as much as women do, the majority of sexual assault perpetrators are male. Therefore, it’s clear that the correlation between alcohol and sexual assault is just as, if not more, relevant for men as it is for women.

What wasn’t explicitly taught to us as kids was implicitly acquired. As our generation continues the push toward gender equality, it’s clear that we’re not really up against the explicit rules laid down to us like the ones feminists from older generations were (i.e. women belong in the house). Rather, progressive sexual assault prevention grapples with the implicit lessons that circulate children from birth, telling us what we should or shouldn’t do according to normative social constructs, and entrenching a deep sense of “us” and “them” across the gender gap. Occasionally, these rules are made explicit through sexist or misogynistic comments, but as we inevitably draw closer to equality, we are drawing closer to the very stitching of society that has sought to subordinate women for so long, and, like any enormous knot that needs to be unraveled, it will take time, patience, and a willingness to understand, to do so.

It is impossible to discuss a plan for action without a candid, straightforward discussion about how the current situation at Kenyon stands. That is this: Women are viewed differently at night than they are during the day. While Kenyon has progressed such that a woman may be renowned on campus for her intellect, athletic prowess, artistic abilities or anything more substantial than her body during the day, at night those attributes fade and we become the focus of objectification—and targets for worse. The key to effective sexual assault prevention lies in acknowledging that despite how much we as women may want things to be different, that’s simply not how things are at present. Saying that does not make me weak, does not make me a supporter of a patriarchal system, but it does make me honest. As women, that stark truth is necessary to bare without outraged fanfare, but confidently, because we recognize how things are, but we do not accept it as how it will be.

We are not equal right now, but we deserve to be, and working toward that goal should be a collective effort shared by the entire Kenyon community, both women and men. The goal of gender equality is not something that we can afford to put on hold during the evenings; it must be an ongoing discussion on campus during the day about how we can change the way we perceive and treat one another, and how we can continue to implement these changes at night. Heightened risk for sexual assault must be linked to the skewed power dynamic that exists on campus, and the only way for women to claim our half of that power is to engage men in a way that bridges the gender gap, not alienates them from the discussion. In order for this to happen, male and female employees of Kenyon need to lead the way, and if we want to initiate a real, tangible change, all students need to be receptive to learning about why things are the way they are at present. This will almost definitely include moments of discomfort, anger, frustration, and exasperation, particularly when discussions include members of different generations, but something as huge as a cultural change isn’t going to happen overnight; it will happen in shifts. I want to emphasize this point by saying that in particular, male administrators, professors, and coaches should all be willing to candidly discuss male culture with women, and encourage their male students and student-athletes to do the same.

Kenyon women seek full autonomy and power in our identities, and the College supports this through classes and a concentration in Women’s and Gender Studies, Crozier, Take Back the Night, Women in Sports Day, and a myriad of other ways. We’ve all heard the joke that women are hard to understand, but when it comes to what we want within society, it’s pretty straightforward: we want universal respect to exist between men and women, pay equality, and to be valued. Originally, men’s voices needed to be silenced because all they wanted to say was dissenting. However, particularly within our generation, and especially at Kenyon, there are far fewer dissenting voices than the foremothers of feminism had to engage with. It’s time to open up a new avenue of communication at Kenyon, and invite men to discuss their views, how and why they acquired them, and above all, abstain from judgment and taking personal offense.

The Kenyon community needs to consider: What does it mean to be a man? Male students should feel able to grapple with that question in front of women, and for that to happen there must be an expectation of highest tolerance from Kenyon women as we listen and respond. The kind of cultural change that needs to happen is wholly unprecedented, so difficulty of expression on both sides is natural and allowed. The challenges women face in society are many and well-publicized, but what about the very different struggles men face? They are attributed with having power because they are men, but “power” is not an identity. Perhaps we need to consider that with all of the societal changes that have occurred since the first wave of feminism, none of them have offered a concrete new identity for men to embrace. Instead, they’re left with the shards of traditions — chiefly, the expectations of power and masculinity, qualities that we know can manifest themselves in abhorrent ways such as sexism, misogyny, and sexual assault. Given this, cultural reforms need to address what an equal society would want its men to be like, and men deserve to have a voice in the types of qualities they want to embody.

Change is slow if the goal is true progress. As students begin to engage one another in discussions, Kenyon women need to refrain from anger and bitterness when unequal views are inevitably expressed; we shouldn’t want to hear supportive lies when we know sexist thoughts and beliefs about women exist on campus. That being said, Kenyon men need to be willing to recognize and brainstorm ways in which they can change their thoughts and actions to better reflect a progressive, equal community, with particular attention to how these ideas can be incorporated into creating a safer campus party culture. The men at Kenyon are the ones the women of Kenyon will be out in the world working with, living with, and raising the next generation with. If we really want to change the way men and women interact with, perceive, talk, and think about one another, that change starts with open, tolerant discussions where it is imperative that everyone—male first years, female professors, male coaches, female first-generation students, male administrators, fraternities, student-athletes — everyone participate.

Following that acknowledgment, we can get to work.