Sarah Kristeller
Over the next two weeks, I will be writing on the topic of sexual assault. The treatment of these crimes represent deep chasms in our culture as a whole, and these faults are crippling college and university campuses nationwide, which are the country’s supposed bastions of critical thinking and social progress. In writing, I hope to examine personal and political aspects of sexual assault, promote transparency of college sexual assault policies and explore potential solutions.
On Wednesday, Oct. 17, Amherst College’s independent student newspaper published an essay online by former Amherst student Angie Epifano, detailing her sexual assault committed by a fellow student in an Amherst dorm, and subsequent interactions with the administration. Reading her story was an experience that hit far too close to home, even on a laptop 600 miles away from western Massachusetts.
I am also a survivor of a sexual assault that took place at Amherst College, at the hands of an Amherst student. I was 18 and a first-year at nearby Smith College. It was my second weekend of school and I went with some other Smith women to check out an Amherst party. There was booze (provided by the college). There were speakers blaring “American Boy,” that stupid Estelle song from 2008. I distinctly remember a poster on the dorm room wall that read “Smart sex is like hockey. You need protection to reach the goal. Use a condom.” There was fuzzy recognition of the irony of these words as I was sexually assaulted.
There were the repeated placations of “You should just stay,” then the adrenaline-induced sobriety and the scramble to find my things. “I really have to go, now. You said you were a nice guy and I don’t think that you are.” Insulted, he denied any misconduct. Eager to leave, I opted for an apathetic surrender, a bizarre hug and a hurried exit. There was the nauseating uncertainty of whether or not I’d just lost my virginity as I ran barefoot to the bus stop, my sandals left behind as vestiges of my reckless stupidity.
My belief that I was to blame for this haunting ordeal is a common response among survivors of sexual assault. It’s called victim-blaming, and it’s an internalization of the same phenomenon that pervades our culture. The lack of support and advocacy for Epifano’s rights and well-being from the time that she sought help to her eventual withdrawal from Amherst signifies the failure of the entire system to address the needs of student survivors.
After silently coexisting on campus with her rapist for months, Epifano began seeing the school’s sexual assault counselor. She was discouraged from pressing charges and college officials questioned whether she was really raped. Her request to change dorms was declined. Upon admitting suicidal thoughts to one counselor, she was required to spend five days in a psychiatric ward, at the conclusion of which she was initially denied return to campus on a technicality. She was denied her study-abroad privileges, barred from taking classes at any other schools in Amherst’s consortium, and suffered further penalties.
Epifano withdrew and courageously asserted control over her own recovery. She eventually reported her rapist, who nonetheless graduated from Amherst with Honors. Her decision to share her story has inspired me to share my own. It also serves as an essential point of reference as student concerns over sexual misconduct at Amherst compel the administration to reassess their policies, recently publishing statements from both the president and the board of trustees on its website front page. Whether these statements will elicit real change remains to be seen.
Epifano’s case enrages me, as an institution designed to foster its students’ growth actually prolonged the suffering and victimization of one of its own. It also will hopefully embolden survivors, as she recognizes that these failures reverberate through entire institutions. Perhaps most significantly, Epifano’s story has inspired declarations of solidarity from students around the country who want to interrupt the silence that shrouds incidents of sexual assault.
It is not my intention, nor do I believe it is Epifano’s, to scapegoat Amherst for their failures. However, when institutional policy deters survivors from pursuing legal or disciplinary action or fails to provide sufficient support systems, it effectively promotes rape culture. Such policies are cowardly and mangle any good faith attempts by administrators to protect survivors from potentially worse harm.
In my next article, I will address how the roles of dialogue, sexual assault policy and survivor support play into the Wooster culture. In the meantime, Wooster should respond to the events unfolding at Amherst and offer its unyielding support for survivors, reiterating a zero-tolerance policy on sexual assault.