Cris Wildman
Disclaimer: While the Voice strives to fact-check all of its content, it was impossible to confirm all of the details in this Viewpoint due to privacy laws that prevent College administrators from discussing individual judicial cases. We could confirm that this account aligns with general Judicial Board procedures, but the Family Educational Rights and Privacy Act forbid administrators from discussing details about this case. The aspects of this Viewpoint that could legally be confirmed by administrators were accurate.
TRIGGER WARNING: This content deals with the subject of sexual assault and may be triggering to some readers.
I was raped my freshman year. I went to a party alone, became blackout drunk, and was taken home by a guy I didn’t know. I woke up in the morning alone with a used condom on my floor. I don’t remember most of that night, and none of the “incident” itself. It’s a double-edged sword; I don’t remember, but not knowing will always plague me. It took me almost half a year to admit what had happened to me. I laughed it off at first. But I couldn’t get rid of the unease that haunted me in the weeks afterwards. After talking with friends, I finally accepted that what had happened to me was sexual assault. I struggled immensely with blaming myself, and I didn’t believe that it was not my fault until the end of the year.
I am a junior now, and my rapist is still here. I see him almost every day around campus: in Lowry, on the academic quad, sometimes at parties. There are days when seeing him sends me back to my room in panicked tears. There are days when I can’t bring myself to leave my room for fear of seeing him. There are days when I spend several hours in the shower, letting the water burn me and trying to scrub away every trace of what happened. My mental health suffers, my academic work suffers, my sex life suffers. So why do I let this continue?
I am sharing my story to continue the discussion of the pervasive rape culture that exists at Wooster. Rape culture is not just a problem among students; the College judicial system, the administration and the College’s policies all contribute to it.
I reported my rape the spring semester of my sophomore year. Like many victims, I was terrified to come forward. I was scared to relive it, scared to be judged, scared to be blamed. After making a report with security, I was told they did not have enough evidence to pursue a case. I was not willing to simply give up, so I pressed charges myself. I was given little over a week to prepare for a hearing. The board consisted of deans and faculty members who volunteered.
I was alone in that room. That is how I will always feel. I had to listen to a faculty member ask my rapist if he had asked for consent, after I had explained that I was blackout drunk and don’t remember most of that night. I had to listen to the security officer who had previously told me he believed me testify on behalf of my rapist. I had to listen to my rapist talk about how he was a legacy student at the College. I listened to him tell them that what he had learned from this experience was that he couldn’t trust people. Halfway through the hearing, I dissociated from anxiety. Afterwards, I broke down in tears and didn’t leave my room for two days.
The hearing board decided my rapist was not guilty. They effectively decided my rape had not happened. A dean told me about counseling services if I needed help, which to me was the greatest irony: if I had not actually been raped, why would I need counseling? Worst of all, how do they expect me to heal if I am reminded of what was done to me every day?
I wanted to appeal the board’s decision, but my trust was shattered. I felt helpless, and I felt humiliated. I gave up, because instead of receiving justice, I had been revictimized.
This is not just my story. There are many of us who have not received justice. There are many of us here at Wooster who do the best we can to keep surviving, knowing our assailants got away with it, and may well do it again. This is a pervasive problem, and it cannot be allowed to continue. No more broken people having the reminder of the trauma shoved in their face daily. No more feeling alone. This needs to end.
I am calling on The College of Wooster to fix its rape culture problem. I want victims to have an advocate to speak for them. I want policies that are harsh on perpetrators: rapists should not be allowed to continue their academic career here. I want hearing boards that are dedicated solely to sexual assault, so that those who sit on them fully understand what sexual assault is and how to avoid revictimizing survivors. I want the College to unequivocally stand behind survivors and protect them, no matter the cost.
I may decide to appeal my hearing. I do not want to give up, I do not want my rapist to get away with what he did to me, and I do not want him to be able to hurt someone else. But I am still scared. I know where the College currently stands, and that is on the side of a good bottom line and a clean image, and until that changes, I am not sure any of us will find justice