“I am Jane Doe.”
When I was fourteen years old, I was sexually assaulted. I do not share this to center my experience, but rather to speak on the Cornell 7 case from a lens that is specific and personal. At Women4Change, our work is focused on the state of Indiana. We do not often comment on national news, not out of a lack of care, but because we want to employ our voices where they have the most impact—here at home.
However, over the past two weeks, we have once again come to a national reckoning about the pervasiveness of sexual violence in our communities. Although this case is unfolding in another state, we know that sex crimes do not recognize state borders. The Jane Doe of the Cornell case might not live in Indiana, but there are more than a million Jane Doe’s in Indiana whose stories we may never know. They matter too. While some have rushed to explain the extremity of the Cornell 7 by saying the source of their actions lies in their fraternity, in their elite Ivy League institution, or in their group chat, women around the world know that many cultural and systemic factors contribute to sexual violence in the United States.
When the media reports on sexual violence, we are generally led to follow a narrative where women immediately recognize that they have been raped. But what about those for whom it is not as clear? Despite what is often shown, there are many women who struggle to admit they were raped, even inside their own minds. Because I was so young when I was assaulted, I did not understand what had happened and struggled to accept that the assault had truly occurred against my will. For years after, I agonized over how to frame the experience in my mind to create a version of events that preserved my reality. Due to a variety of factors, many people I went to school with were aware of what happened, though most only knew his side of the story, which rewrote the truth to his advantage and erased any trace of wrongdoing.
One moment stands out that captures why I have chosen to share such a vulnerable piece of my story with you. In Spanish class one day, my teacher introduced an activity where we would shoot paper balls into a small basketball hoop. When I lined up to shoot, a boy in my class yelled out the name of the boy who had assaulted me, which triggered a ripple of muffled giggles throughout the room—from boys and girls.Their laughs still echo in my ears. More than that laughter, though, I remember how alone I felt at that moment. If someone had decided to speak out, it may not have seriously changed anything or have undone what had happened. It may not have even slowed the other comments and taunts. But it would have meant everything to me.
Often when we think about speaking out, we focus on images of women leading marches, speaking in front of massive crowds at protests, or standing firm while testifying in front of Congress. We focus on these images for a reason. They are profoundly inspirational to women around the world who may feel as though their voices do not matter. But what about the power of a voice in smaller rooms, in group chats, over the dinner table, in the office? Interrupting the status quo with your voice can be just as impactful as speaking in front of a crowd of thousands.
Sexual violence is a systemic issue, but it is also reproduced and normalized interpersonally. When someone cracks a joke at the expense of a woman who was victim to a sexual assault, and you say “That’s not funny,” you have interrupted the status quo. Sex crimes are reliant upon shame and silence, and the more that violence against women is normalized, the more cowed and isolated victims feel—lost in an ocean of “jokes” and casual dismissal.
As more information from the Cornell case has come out, I have seen one question raised over and over again on social media, as well as when speaking with my loved ones: What would you do if you were in that group chat? What would you have said? I want to be clear: I think these are important questions to ask, especially of the men in our lives.
But as I have read through each new article and case update, a different question has arisen in my mind—when in our lives have we already been in that group chat? That is to say, when in our lives have we each chosen silence, rather than addressing an inappropriate joke, a comment, or even a behavior we disagreed with? There can be value in considering how you might respond if confronted with something as sickening as the messages shared in that Chi Phi chat. However, I wonder what we could accomplish if we looked at our lived experiences and confronted moments where we made the wrong choice. Take a moment to do that now. Sit with that discomfort. Acknowledge it. And allow it to drive you forward into a future filled with action, instead of silence.
As Sara and I spoke in the office about the horrific details of the Cornell 7 case, she raised the idea of centering our conversations around women’s safety on the concept of care. Using your voice is care. Imagine you were at that party, in my classroom, at a bar with friends, in a business meeting. What would you say? How would you intervene? When you speak out, you directly challenge the presence of the patriarchy in your personal lives and relationships. That act is caring towards the women in your lives, and it is caring for women you may never know, but advocating for them regardless.
Rape culture is often unrelenting. Once you break from that social norm, it is possible you become the person who can’t take a joke, that’s too serious, or that doesn’t laugh. Is that not even more of a reason to say something? What kind of world do we live in, where normalizing rape is more comfortable than speaking out against it? Often, making yourself unfunny to the wrong people brings you closer to the right ones. And even more importantly, it can shift the culture. Condemning jokes made at rape victims’ expense can be normal, and it should be. We can make that our reality.
There is a proverb that comes to mind: “The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now.” Let’s start using our voice now.
Midge Hayward | Contributor, Membership Coordinator, Women4Change Indiana
Midge Hayward is a passionate advocate for women's rights, safety, and equity. Through her writing, she brings a thoughtful, personal perspective to conversations about the issues affecting women and girls, challenging readers to examine the cultural attitudes and systemic barriers that shape women's experiences.