For the first time, people seem to be really listening to the horrible truth about rape and the American school system, so maybe it’s time for the world to hear a truth that’s been weighing on me for quite some time.
This is not an overreaction by students and faculty, but taking action, engaging in open dialogue to not only prevent future acts of hate, but to have a space to articulate feelings of fear and anger -- sentiments that are completely understandable considering the situation.
It was just one of those things that I knew I'd regret not doing on my deathbed. (Now, if I live to reach grandma status, my grandkids will know I used to explain to people the pros and cons of all the different types of dildos!)
I decided to major in English because I thoroughly enjoy discussing fine literature with gay men and old people, and because really, what could be better than explaining why "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" is about a brothel as a homework assignment? Nothing. Nothing is better.
Rape on college and university campuses across the US is a systemic problem, and so is the lack of action on the part of officials, many of whom want to suppress rape reporting as much as possible because it would make them look bad.
I got lucky, in a sense, that my struggle with agoraphobia and suicidal depression didn't hit its lowest point until my junior year at Emerson College in Boston, when I'd had time to cement friendships that would prove to be of invaluable assistance during that time.
The response to a string of sexual assaults this weekend at Cornell University has been underwhelming, with some students suggesting that rape is an inevitable expression of socialized masculinity. Unfortunately, I can't say I'm all that surprised.