As an abroad student studying in a country at the bottom of the world, it feels as though there is little I can do but watch as my home school, Kenyon College, writhes with internal turmoil. Students are outraged at the school’s final decision in a highly sensitive sexual assault case, the administration appears to be frantic in its effort to open an avenue of communication with students to mend the relationship, and everyone on social media is sharing, liking, or commenting. I’m not writing to pass judgment on the case — there is plenty that has been said and more that will be said — but none of us will ever be privy to the full details of the case. I am writing because that fact needs to be accepted so that the attention and energy of the student body can be focused productively, and while I see a lot of exertion happening, I wonder if the people behind this momentum have a plan for what to do with it.

It’s not enough to simply raise awareness of an issue, or draw the public’s attention to something, without a coherent goal in mind. In fact, it’s irresponsible. Without a plan, a sort of “mob mentality” sets in, and more and more people add their voices to the ever-simplified facts of the issue until they’re not facts anymore, they’re one-liners to grab people’s attention and incite them to join the crowd clamoring for — what, exactly? Specifically, with regard to sexual assault cases, the current trend is to cry foul at the slightest provocation. This is troubling for two main reasons: First, because an overload of alarms makes it much more difficult to discern where any true case mishandlings occur and, second, because it alienates the administration as a resource for students to use to understand the federal guidelines that they’re bound by, as well as their own way of explaining the independent procedures they use. No one at Kenyon has said anything about how fortunate we are to have an administration that is as willing to work to improve communication with the students, as well as patient enough to do so despite ridiculous displays like a sit-in and anonymous fliers on campus demanding that the administration “take responsibility.” It saddens me that without even knowing all the facts of the case, my fellow students were willing to smear Kenyon’s name. If each student who has expressed an opinion on the case thus far were individually interviewed, who would be able to defend their single actions and words, both the typed and spoken, as what the situation merited? That situation being, as it stands right now, the decision to drop a case against an individual whose side has been utterly disregarded by those who have been made privy to the accuser’s via a conglomerate of secondhand information.

As I said earlier, I am not writing to pass my own judgment on the verdict of the case. Some may interpret my unwillingness to align myself with the accuser as aligning with the administration’s decision, and by default, the defendant, but what I mean to do is draw on the case as a framework for a discussion on how we as students approach sexual assault at Kenyon. I think that a mutually agreed upon and understood policy between the administration and the student body is important and necessary, but I don’t think that reaches the heart of the issue: a young woman found herself in a situation that she was unable to extricate herself from because she was incapacitated by alcohol. If that last sentence raised hackles because you read it as victim blaming, then good, because that was not my intent and that’s important to talk about.

In his post “Work to Do,” President Decatur acknowledged that the students’ voices are heard while also challenging those voices to push past sweeping generalities of how we’ve been wronged, and instead take a hard look at how we ourselves go about implementing the community values we hold so dear. Most strikingly for me was this: “We cannot address the community issues surrounding sexual misconduct on campus without having open, honest and candid discussions about the party and alcohol culture on campus.”

The administration is not present at student functions. The individuals that come to them to report an incident are not the same individuals who were out the night of the incident—the reporters are sober, dressed in daytime wear, and able to articulate themselves. All of these things were likely not the case on the night of the incident. President Decatur also says that “we must respect the privacy of all involved in any case or incident, but at the same time we must find ways to talk openly about how these issues affect so many of us.” The message is clear: The decision in cases tried by the administration will not be changed, so the discussion cannot be centered around one instance of perceived injustice. Instead, students should look to themselves for change. We are the core of the Kenyon community that the administration is so proud of. We are the passionate, empathetic and strong women and men that they invited to Gambier one, two, three years ago. When an incident of sexual assault is brought to the forefront of our attention, our immediate response should not be to shout at the administration “How could you let this happen!” but instead to look amongst ourselves and ask: “What can we do to prevent an incident from happening in the first place?”

Victim and assailant are words that are necessary in a case, but they are also words that dehumanize the individuals they’re attached to. In a community as small as Kenyon’s, it’s very easy to forget that a case involves two people, and that both claim places in the Kenyon community as our fellow students and friends. I am not acquainted with either of the individuals in the most recently publicized case, which gives me the objectivity to say that both have been failed by their fellow students, as well as failed the community themselves.

The nightlife culture at Kenyon is an aspect of life in Gambier that only the students truly know. Infused with bass-pumping music, alcohol, and rowdy singing and dancing, the Kenyon world at night is an entirely different one than that which students occupy during the day, and one where the importance of community does not occupy much of the student mind; this seems wholly out of place amongst the social dramas unfolding throughout the evening. But it shouldn’t. I refuse to place the blame of mishandled sexual assault cases solely at the feet of the administration when, in fact, the problem starts with us. We are the ones who perpetuate the stereotypes of over-intoxicated, irresponsible decision making, who cheer the longest pull in a round of Slapbag, the most shots of cheap vodka, and successful underage entry into the Cove (when it still existed). It is a catch-22 that while these nighttime shenanigans strengthen the bonds of the student body through the shared thrill of a (typically) alcohol-glazed evening, these thrills draw us precariously close to breaking a core community value: Trust.

Unlike alcohol consumption, clothes, or actions, trust cannot be modified to fit the campus setting. One either feels connected, engaged, and protected within the community, or doesn’t. Sexual assault threatens the core foundation of trust that is essential to the Kenyon community, and the responsibility to our community begins with us. While I encourage students to educate themselves on Title IX legislation, the administration’s legal responsibilities and independent policies and procedures, I also challenge them to recognize we need to change the way we approach nightlife at Kenyon. We need to look out for one another, recognizing when a good time is veering off track and take care of one another, friends and strangers both — getting water for and walking someone home as necessary, checking in on heavily intoxicated couplings on the dance floor, and asking unfamiliar couples leaving together if they are both aware of what’s happening and are on the same page with what will happen when they’re alone. Individuals should establish personal boundaries for themselves before the night begins, and always, people should be cognizant enough to ask themselves: “Is this what I want?” coherent enough to articulate themselves if the answer is no, and receptive enough to respectfully adhere to the articulation of another party. If these ideas sound preachy and idealistic and stupid, consider this: Is it anymore idealistic and stupid than expecting true justice, where a party is identified as clearly and inexcusably in the wrong and the other party is fully vindicated, to come from two separate retellings of an evening where likely neither party was fully in control of their faculties? Maybe the reason we find ourselves frustrated and engaged in blaming the administration time and time again is because we won’t acknowledge that we are the root of the problem, making the same mistakes in different ways, time and time again.