Sexual assault on college campuses is a serious issue in our society, one that often goes ignored, under reported, and trivialized. According to a September 21st, 2015 study conducted by The Association of American Universities, 27.2 percent of female college seniors report being sexually assaulted since they started college. The classic Men’s Rights “Activist” will often dismiss these studies, citing flaws in sample size and under reporting. What they will not talk about is why those flaws arise.
For example, in the latter mentioned study, only 19 percent of students responded to the survey. Understandably, this would skew the data, but instead of the numbers being smaller, they are actually much larger. The Jeanne Clery Act (1990) solidified reporting by collegiate officials, but did more harm than good, as those numbers only count when committed on campus or on adjacent property. It also removes the number of “confidential” reports to counselors. By going through a counselor, a student is more likely to avoid a police investigation and subsequent, further emotional turmoil, but may not be counted by the Clery Act. An investigative Mother Jones article about the statistics reported under the Clery Act clarified this problem: colleges are severely undermining the amount of reports that they receive. They compared the data from the AAU survey (people who said they filed rape reports) to the Clery numbers (official rape reports). The University of Virginia was one of the 25 colleges surveyed, seeing its self-reported numbers at 98 versus the official 44. That’s 54 crimes swept under the rug. The AAU survey also found that three fourths of victims did not report the incident to anyone at all. What should be gained from this additional information is that not only are the numbers incorrect, they are much higher than previously thought.
A second fundamental flaw in these types of studies is the definition of sexual assault. The AAU survey defines the act as, “non-consensual sexual contact involving [either] sexual penetration [or] sexual touching.” Sexual touching can include any unwanted kissing or groping. While some take issue with this, I, personally, do not. Sexual assault is an abuse of power, and even small instances of non-consensual touching need to hold a decent amount of significance. After all, the acts described do require use of force. Brian D. Earp from Huffington Post states in a critique over a New York Time’s report, “If the person who kisses you against your will—or after one too many drinks—is your professor, or someone who’s been harassing you all semester long, or a friend who’s now violating your trust, the emotional consequences could be pretty severe. It also depends a lot on who you are. Some people experience even ‘extreme’ forms of assault and yet somehow manage to recover and move on with their lives. Others may be emotionally handicapped for decades.” Simultaneously, as a sexual assault survivor, I understand the concern with loose wording. By no means would I want to undermine the seriousness of rape and equate it to unwanted kissing, but that’s not what these surveys, or other surveys are saying. It is yet another misconception used to derail and dismiss survivors as whole.
We need to begin to think of statistics for what they are: imperfect. Until being a sexual assault survivor is no longer a stigma that comes with shame and humiliation, it is virtually impossible to measure the exact number of victims. What we do possess right now is a general idea. It comes down to the responsibility of the reader to look into statistics, the studies they come from, and to take the study for what it is in order to form their own opinion.
Of course, it is unreasonable to ask every victim to come forward. This is where my least favorite argument, validity of claims, comes into play. “How do we know they’re telling the truth?” is a toxic, victim-blaming concept to live by. The conviction rates are extremely low, with the Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network reporting 98 percent of reported rapists never seeing a day behind bars (based on the Department of Justice’s crime data from 2008-2012). What kind of chance would even a lying victim have then, if those of us who told the truth never saw justice in the first place? Why would anyone lie about being raped, given the backlash and judgement that comes with being a victim? At the end of the day, people who ask the question of validity are siding with the rapist, intentionally or not. We owe victims the benefit of the doubt. The National Sexual Violence Resource Center, also backed by 2012, 2013, and 2015 DOJ data, found that just 2-10 percent of reported rapes are falsely reported: “For example, a study of eight U.S. communities, which included 2,059 cases of sexual assault, found a 7.1% rate of false reports.” That would mean about 146 of those 2,000+ cases were false reports, and that 1,913 were not. Applying the RAINN data, 1,874 of those who committed the accurately reported rapes are free. How can we hold all other victims accountable to the poor deeds of the (very) few?
The answer is that we cannot. Prevention of college sexual assault needs to be one of American universities’ biggest priorities, and this includes a number of initiatives. Like any deep-seated issue, though, we must pull this from its very roots: from the immense doubt victims encounter to the neglect at the hands of the justice system. Survivors, if able and safe to do so, should speak out in order to end the stigma, even if it makes people uncomfortable. It is only when we all come out of the woodwork, shamelessly sharing our stories, that people can no longer ignore us. We are here, surviving and even thriving, despite our lives being forever changed during one of the most arguably important times of our lives.
