I've kept myself quiet since the day I found out that the first doctor I've ever seen in the US, Dr. George Tyndall, was involved in a huge sexual harassment scandal.

Quiet, meaning not even filing a complaint anonymously.

Not because I'm afraid. After all, hundreds of people have stepped up. Articles after articles were people telling their horrible experiences with Dr. Tyndall, like this onewritten by a USC alumnus. But, I am more confused than anything else.

I don't know if anything was wrong because I don't know how things are supposed to be during a gynecology visit.

I still remember freshman year walking into the student health center for the first time to see a gynecologist. I didn't know what to expect from a gynecologist other than awkwardness. I've always been a bit reckless to try things I've never done before.

Sometimes, I'm so afraid that I'd intentionally act impulsively and bluntly or I'd joke around so no one feels awkward. I'd like to think I'm quite progressive as someone who grew up in a more conservative culture.

I am as fascinated as I am embarrassed by sex and sexual health.

That day, as I walked into the student health center, I decided to swallow the fear that made my stomach drop and act bravely like a strong progressive female with a great sense of humor.

It's been almost four years now since that first encounter with Dr. Tyndall. Did I mention I didn't just see him once or twice, but three times?

But my memory of the three encounters has become quite fuzzy. I remember that he asked how many sexual partners I'd had, but I don't know how medically relevant that was. I remember that he did some sort of exam on me, but I don't remember the details.

I remember that he threw a lot of jokes at me and I felt like had to laugh to show bravery and understanding, but I don't remember if the jokes involved suspicious comments. I remember that he gave me quite a few compliments, but I don't remember if they were just about my English-speaking ability. I remember he prescribed me with birth control and flew through the instruction.

When I timidly nodded to express understanding, he laughed and said, “Of course, you Chinese students are all so smart." I remember thinking “Well, that's just stereotyping," but didn't say anything. I remember walking away thinking the visits were quite “interesting" and wondering if all doctors are so humorous in the U.S.

I wouldn't get my next exam until more than three years later with a different doctor.

This time, I remember the doctor was extremely nice but never joked like Dr. Tyndall.

This doctor never questioned me about my sexual experience.

He never commented on my ethnicity or my ability to speak English. He carefully explained everything I had questions for. He finished the exam in what felt like just seconds, including getting a sample for pap smear. But, by now, I don't remember enough about the visits with Dr. Tyndall to make a definitive comparison. I didn't want to wrongly accuse anyone.

I don't trust my memory about what happened four years ago. I don't know enough about pelvic exams or any other exam involving the genitals to confidently say that something was wrong.

I just don't know. So I kept my mouth shut.

I know people are furious about what happened. Many people have spoken up about their creepy experience with Dr. Tyndall. I fully agree that if you felt violated, speak up.

But, should I say something?

What about those of us who didn't and maybe still don't know the difference between valid procedures and malpractice?

Maybe, while accusing someone after the fact, we should also consider empowering people by educating them on proper medical procedures.

Don't you see how ridiculous it is that a college graduate like me – who has studied and written about human sexuality and is a self-proclaimed sexually progressive woman – still doesn't know what a proper pelvic exam is supposed to be like? Maybe it's just as important, if not more important, to provide comprehensive education on sexuality for everyone as to plow out the bad seeds in the field of medicine.