Read a letter from our editor, Sam Seekings, about this submission here.

Content warning: This article contains sensitive language regarding physical and sexual violence.

I am not like the very brave people submitting their own op-eds over the past couple of days. After a night of remembering nothing between pre-gaming a fraternity mixer with my friends and waking up to many texts asking if I made it home, including one that said, “Do you think you were drugged last night?” I stayed quiet. I did not press charges. I did not contact the Title IX Office, the Washington University Police Department or the Sexual Assault and Rape Anonymous Helpline (S.A.R.A.H). The only contact I did make was with a friend in the fraternity, begging him to let whoever needed to know that I didn’t want to get any individual or institution “in trouble,” that I just wanted the situation to blow over.

And for a while, it felt like it had. I continued with my semester, enjoyed my winter break and returned for spring semester. Then, six months later, I discovered that a member of my sorority’s leadership team had met with members of the fraternity’s leadership team who explained that a brother had identified me as a “risk” to their fraternity. I was told that I was not permitted to attend any social event at their fraternity, and that if I did, I would be asked to leave and escorted out. I was blacklisted, and I heard about it from an acquaintance after my sorority’s weekly chapter meeting.

The events of that night at that mixer aren’t important to the point of this op-ed, but I can’t explain the confusion, fear and sense of violation that comes from hearing about your own assault second-hand via texts. What I want to highlight is that, despite my best efforts to let the issue blow over at the expense of my sense of justice and personal safety, I was still accused of being the risk. What I had originally thought of as a fraternity with “one bad apple” among many other guys that I did not want to demonize now became a group of men in a conversation I was not invited to, describing one of the worst nights of my life, as an indicator of my own risky behavior.

So, as the problem of sexual assault and its prevalence on our campus, especially in Greek spaces, comes into the much-needed spotlight, I’d like to make a few things clear:

To the women on this campus: The fraternities here operate with the priority of protecting themselves and their reputation, not you. Being friends with the brothers, trying not to make waves and staying quiet will not save you from becoming their scapegoat.

And to the men in Greek organizations on this campus: I have intentionally omitted identifying details from my experience to preserve the privacy of men who did not find it necessary to preserve mine. Does this sound like your fraternity? Are you worried that this might be about your brothers, your leadership team, your organization? If so, you need to hold yourself and the men you surround yourself with to a higher standard, because you should never wonder whether or not your fraternity facilitates assault and silences victims. In a dark basement, in a meeting with your leadership team or in a discussion with your friend, who do you and your brothers protect? Do you protect the women who are guests in your home by holding the people around you accountable? Or do you protect yourselves, your reputation and your pride at the expense of the safety and well-being of so many of the women walking around you on Washington University’s campus?

Soon, you will be held accountable for your actions and your risky behavior, and I hope you are ready to answer for them to women like me.