Warning: This commentary discusses sexual assault and rape. Some of the subject matter may be triggering for survivors.
This story by Matt Alley, BlueCollarWriter Labor Media was originally published here.
“I cannot speak for survivors, and I cannot erase what someone else did. What I can do as a man is listen, believe women, support survivors and refuse to participate in the attitudes and behavior that make sexual violence easier to dismiss or excuse.”
The allegations involving a former Cornell University student and members of the Chi Phi fraternity are disturbing, regardless of where the investigation ultimately leads. The woman alleges that she was drugged and sexually assaulted by multiple men at a 2024 fraternity party. The men accused have denied the allegations. The criminal investigation was initially closed without charges but has since been reopened, with New York Attorney General Letitia James appointed special prosecutor after renewed scrutiny of the case. The allegations must be investigated fairly, the evidence must be followed and the accused are entitled to due process.
But this isn’t really about Cornell, a fraternity or even this particular case. It is about a much larger problem men need to be willing to discuss honestly: what we tolerate, what we teach our boys and what we do when another man crosses a line.
I am a man, and I’ve spent 52 years learning what that is supposed to mean. I’ve spent enough time around men to recognize that there are jokes, comments and attitudes that should never be normalized. Even when I was younger, the circles I ran in generally weren’t places where jokes about rape were considered acceptable humor. As I’ve gotten older, my tolerance for that kind of bullshit has only diminished.
I’m not saying that to pat myself on the back or suggest my experience is representative of all men. It isn’t. I’m saying it because men have choices about what we laugh at, what we tolerate and when we decide something has gone too far. Objectifying women, humiliating them or treating their boundaries as an inconvenience helps create a culture where their humanity can become secondary to what a man wants.
I also don’t have to look very far to understand why this is personal. Women have been part of every part of my life: my mother, my aunts, my grandmothers, friends, coworkers and countless other women I’ve known along the way. But women don’t deserve respect because they happen to be somebody’s mother, daughter, sister or friend. They deserve it because they are human beings. The women I’ve known throughout my life have simply made it impossible for me to pretend their safety, dignity and experiences are somebody else’s problem.
The latest CDC data put the scale of sexual violence into painful perspective. Nearly half of U.S. women, 45.1%, have experienced contact sexual violence during their lifetimes, while 21% have experienced completed or attempted rape. Sexual violence is also underreported.
Those statistics aren’t abstract to me. Throughout my life, I’ve known too many women with stories of harassment, coercion, assault or other forms of sexual violence. Sometimes I learned those stories years after they happened. Sometimes they were told almost casually, as though the woman telling me had already decided that what happened to her wasn’t important enough to make a fuss over.
I know my personal experience isn’t a statistic, but I’ve known enough women who have shared these experiences that, at times, it feels like three out of four. I know that isn’t the actual number. What I do know is that the sheer frequency with which I’ve heard these stories makes it impossible to dismiss sexual violence as some rare thing that happens to other people.
And somehow, we still spend far too much time teaching women how to avoid being assaulted instead of teaching men not to assault them.
Teach our boys that no means no. Silence isn’t consent. Intoxication isn’t consent. Flirting isn’t consent, a kiss isn’t consent to everything that follows, and going home with someone doesn’t give anyone permission to do whatever they want. Consent can be withdrawn at any point, and another person’s body is never an entitlement.
And teach them what to do when another man crosses that line. If a friend makes a joke about sexually assaulting a woman, tell him it isn’t funny. If someone shares an intimate photograph without permission, say something. If a man is trying to take advantage of someone too intoxicated to consent, intervene.
Being the man who says, “No, we’re not doing that,” isn’t weakness. It’s character.
I don’t believe every man who makes a disgusting joke is secretly capable of committing sexual violence. That’s not the argument. The argument is that the things we repeatedly laugh at, excuse and normalize help establish the standards of the groups we belong to. Men should be capable of recognizing when those standards have become unacceptable.
Believe women. Believe survivors.
That doesn’t mean abandoning due process or deciding the outcome of an investigation before the evidence has been examined. It means that when someone tells us they’ve experienced sexual violence, our first instinct shouldn’t be to search for reasons to blame, shame or discredit them. Investigate allegations fairly. Follow the evidence. Protect the rights of everyone involved. And when the evidence establishes that someone committed sexual violence, hold that person accountable.
I cannot speak for survivors, and I cannot erase what someone else did. What I can do as a man is listen, believe women, support survivors and refuse to participate in the attitudes and behavior that make sexual violence easier to dismiss or excuse.
Women should not have to organize their lives around the possibility that a man will decide his desires matter more than their autonomy. That shouldn’t be controversial. It should be the bare minimum.
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