When I was in middle school, people used to point out and make fun of the fact that whenever one girl had to use the bathroom, she'd end up dragging along two or three of her friends to go with her. I was no exception -- I didn't want to go alone either.

"Look at Hermione Granger," I'd jokingly say. "She went to the bathroom by herself and got attacked by a troll. Safety in numbers."

Safety in numbers. Even at ages twelve, thirteen, we were aware that there was something about the world that made us feel unsafe.

I'm in college now. Of course I don't require an entire entourage to accompany me to the bathroom anymore, or anywhere else for that matter. This isn't like high school, where people band together to walk down the halls in clumps of backpacks because everyone's so scared to be alone.

I walk alone, a lot of the time. In the early morning, late at night. Which is sort of the opposite of what a young college-aged woman is supposed to do, right? I've been called stupid, told I have no sense of self-preservation, that I'm basically asking for someone to jump me.

If I was really smart, I'd call Public Safety to walk with me, right? Because walking by myself is just a newspaper article waiting to happen. We've all heard about it, that one college campus, that one dumb girl.

Then again, maybe I'm safer walking by myself across campus in the middle of the night than I would be in my own dorm room.

I've never been a man, so I don't know what goes through their minds when they walk across campus, or get on a bus, or even just wait in line at the grocery store. Do they check for shadows trailing after them, turning around to make sure that there's no one behind them? Do they hold their breath when a stranger makes eye contact, praying not to be called out, hit on, or harassed?

Do guys fear getting too drunk at parties and waking up in a bed that's not theirs? I mean, it does happen. Males can be victims of assault just as much as women can be. But are they systematically conditioned to always be wary of it, as much as women are?

I'm going to be bitterly honest here.

I'm scared of men.

I'm scared of their anger. I'm scared of their violence. I don't let this stop me from doing what I want, like riding buses or getting to my classes, but I'm scared of the day that someday my fear will be proved right.

We've all read the newspaper articles. That one campus. That one girl.

This campus. This girl in my class.

I'm not going to say whether she was right or he was right because the truth is I don't know the truth. And I have no right to pass judgement at all.

But the truth is, it doesn't matter what we do.

Whether we walk across campus by ourselves, or go to the bathroom, or stay in our dorms. Whether we're drunk or sober or "not drunk enough" or "asking for it," whether we're "prudes" or "easy," it doesn't matter.

And whether he was right or he was wrong, or she was right or she was wrong, the truth is that it's another story in a long anthology of "reasons why women shouldn't drink/walk by themselves/wear short skirts/talk to boys/exist."

I don't want my fear to stop me from getting to my classes in the early morning, late at night, and I don't. I don't want my fear of what might be in my drink stop me from enjoying a night out with my friends, and I don't.

But also (surprise, surprise) I don't want to get assaulted.

I don't want this culture of constantly having to be afraid to breathe. Of being afraid to take up space for fear of unwanted attention. Because even when we shrink ourselves to fit into the spaces carved out for us as "safe," it still isn't enough.

I'm just going to say this -- this isn't the first time this has happened at UP, and it's not going to be the last. And it shouldn't have to happen at UP to be a problem. It shouldn't have to happen to your friend, your daughter, your sister, your niece.

And let's be clear -- the issue isn't sex. It's never been about sex. It's about violence. It's about a culture where some of us are encouraged to take, and take, and take, and are praised for it, while others are told to lie back and take it.

If someone shoots you and you're not wearing a bulletproof vest, are they really at fault?

If you get assaulted, but you're slightly tipsy and unable to make good decisions at the time, are they really at fault?

And again, no one knows what really happened, other than those who were there. But what happened is now they have to live with what happened, that it's part of their story now.

And that's really sad.

It's sad because literally every freshman was put through the Green Dot presentation, sat and listened to upperclassmen explain what consent is and is not. It's sad because we're supposed to be safe in our dorms -- we're encouraged to come back if we're drunk, even if we're underage, because our safety in the moment is supposed to be the most important thing.

It's sad that people expected the University to handle it better, but they didn't. It's sad that people expected the University to protect it's students, but they didn't. It's sad that campus feels a little less safe now. But then again, according to statistics, are college campuses ever really safe?

It's sad that this is such a familiar story now. It's sad that it's not surprising at this point.

It's sad that really, I've been scared of men all my life, and this is just another one in a long list of reasons why.

The boy who sexually harassed my best friend in eighth grade.

The man who tried to get me to send pictures to him when I was sixteen.

A girl at my high school who was raped and only admitted it junior year, in a heartbreaking poem that made people cry.

All these people, other woman you hear about, other women you know.

And you wonder, and you fear, "Will I be next? Will someone I know be next?"

Here's a fun fact: according to the World Health Organization, one in every three women will experience some form of physical or sexual violence in their lifetime.

I have two younger sisters.

I am terrified.