It was just a few weeks into my freshman year of college, and I invited him over out of spite. I thought it would be fun, getting into the real college experience y’know? Hookup culture is ingrained in our communal psyche, it’s just something everyone does, right? Because I wanted it at first, and I never said no, created a killing blow to my case. 

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“You invited him over though.”

“How could he know you didn’t want it if you didn’t say no?”

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My Resident Adviser (RA) did the best she could, she called the Area Coordinator who was let into my room (where they left me alone) and I was just sobbing on the floor. This was the third time so far I’d had the Area Coordinator or Campus Public Safety called ‘for me’ in the short time I’d been at college. Campus Public Safety took me to the hospital; they were lovely and nice to me. I had my friend with me, and they were trying to be supportive but were probably more stressed than I was. I wasn’t reacting at all. I ate some goldfish while we waited in the emergency department, and my lack of emotional upset indicated to the doctors that nothing really happened. They didn’t even touch me aside from taking blood pressure and asking if I wanted Tylenol. I couldn’t make eye contact or answer their questions without the doctor repeating themselves a half dozen times, which was apparently a sign I was perfectly fine, so they asked me to leave. 

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I got back to Champlain around 12:30 AM, and laid on my bedroom floor until my roommate got home. I didn’t want to get back into that bed. I went to sleep, and woke up at 8:15 the next day to attend class as usual. Why wouldn’t I? I heard a cell phone buzzing even after I shut my alarm off, and I worried that he had left his phone. What was I supposed to do with it? I’m not someone who has ever been late to class, so I just got up and went, hoping he wouldn’t worry about his phone. Hopefully it wasn't his phone; why would it be his phone?

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I don’t know if it was the same day or the next day, but I went to meet with the Title IX coordinator. She was nice, but not really. She was really matter-of-fact, and made me feel like she didn’t believe me. I understand ‘innocent until proven guilty,’ but she felt the need to treat me the same way as she would the perpetrator. She used a lot of ‘if’ statements: like “if that happened…” and it really made me feel hurt. So mentally I left, and I barely remember the conversation about a no-contact order. Again, I had shut down and couldn’t answer her questions. I guess I agreed to not put in a no-contact order, because I was scared he would hurt me again. 

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There was no support for me going forward. They closed the case and that was it.

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It wasn’t until some mystery sickness (mono? the flu? we really have no idea) a full five months later prompted a confused nurse to tell me for the first time that Champlain offers crisis counseling, and we even have a woman who works for a sexual assault prevention group. I would never have found out about that if it weren’t for her. I saw the counselor for months, and she really did help me. I miss her a lot.

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Over a year later, I became a mid-way-through-the-year RA, and was moved into a hall with mostly students in my year. I had a pit of panic in my stomach the night before the students moved back in. Is he in my hall? Not only was he in my hall, he was two doors down from me and I was lucky enough to also have him in my history class. Because I was encouraged to not file a no-contact order, this is what happened. I firmly believe that no-contact order or not, you should be notified when someone you have filed a Title IX report against is in your class or building.

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For a few weeks, I had panic attacks every time I saw him in class, and having him in my hall made being an RA awkward; one of my co-RAs had to talk to him whenever it was necessary. To be honest, though, even if it was an oversight that I was placed near him, the constant exposure to him led me closer to forgiveness than anger. It was a shitty thing that happened, and it wasn’t okay by any means, but it gave me peace to no longer be angry, and no longer be in fear every time I saw him. But that isn’t the case for everyone. They put me with someone, no-contact order or not, that they knew I was terrified of. Someone I thought would hurt me. After they’d realized the issue, they offered to just move me somewhere else. Like moving dorms is that simple, just a one and done sorta deal. “Oh someone will switch if you want” was an unproven sentiment that they kept telling me, knowing full well how attached college students get to their homes.

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All in all, the handling of the situation was bad, but I’ve heard worse. I resent the lack of check in, I resent what felt like a lack of caring. The most I resent was the hospital’s treatment of me, and their confusion and actual frustration with my behavior. 

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It was my friends' jokes that hurt the worst, though, including: “it’s not rape if he was wearing a condom.”