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 was raped three weeks ago.

While I only found out about his history afterwards, Washington University had multiple reports about this student and was aware of his violent tendencies long before my assault. He was the subject of the Student Life article “Not a threat,” and I am the freshman that he raped. Washington University failed. They failed to protect its students, and my rape is a direct consequence. If they had taken action earlier, this would not have happened to me.

I never thought that rape would be like this. I had always rationally assumed that if I were raped, I would get a rape kit done right away and make sure that justice was served. It would theoretically be traumatic but easily vindicated through the help of the proper authorities. That night wasn’t a violent stranger jumping out of the shadows in Forest Park or a drunken frat boy pinning me down while I screamed for him to stop. I knew him. He seemed sweet. He was nerdy. I thought I liked him.

Three weeks ago, I went over to his apartment seeking distraction after a breakup. I let him pour me a drink, and I remember listening to him talk about his life. Then, I remember being so drunk that I was too weak to support my own body weight. I barely remember violently vomiting while he held my head up. Then, there was nothing—I blacked out. I don’t remember how long I threw up, how I got to his bed or how I ended up naked. The next thing I remember is suddenly coming to from my blackout, with him inside me. I didn’t tell him to stop. Instead, I pretended to enjoy myself because I was drunk and confused; I think I just wanted it to be consensual. That morning, I kissed him goodbye and then texted him that I really liked him and had a great time, because I thought I liked him, and he had been nice to me, right? It wasn’t until later that day that I sobered up and realized what had happened. I felt weird and shaky. Something was off. My vagina, labia, pelvis and pubic bone were all in sharp, intense pain that did not go away for days. It hurt to even sit down.

There is no grey area in this story. I was raped. I was not just drunk—I was incapacitated. Someone who cannot lift their own head to throw up, can not consent. Someone who is blacked out cannot consent. I could not consent. He later told me my mixed drink had seven shots. I am a 105 pound female; I get wasted after two. He is a senior and I am a freshman; he’s had much more experience with both sex and alcohol. He has seen “The Date” and “#RewindBlurredLines;” he was taught the difference between consensual and nonconsensual sex. He had control over his body and I did not. I could not even keep my head up, much less walk. He took advantage of me at my most helpless and vulnerable moment.

Unlike the man thrusting inside of me, I had no power. I am still struggling to regain that sense of self agency. I did not take off the same pair of pajamas and sweatshirt for days afterwards and could barely get out of bed for a week. I have missed almost everyday of class since, and I have fallen behind on all of my assignments. I have hardly left my dorm. I fluctuate between crying, feeling numb and lying in my bed, with brief moments of distraction. I can’t study. It is all I can think about.

He has had too many cases of physical and sexual assault brought against him. He is not a good person, and his track record shows that he is fully aware of his actions. Yet, prior to my rape he had never faced any consequences, and he continues to pose a danger to women.

They are taking his threat seriously now, but the University’s inaction and failure to adequately respond to previous reports about this individual make them complicit in my rape. I want my anguish and anger to translate into action and justice. For me, for you, for our community. Let the administration know that this is unacceptable. The Title IX process and safety systems on campus must be reformed. Together, our voices cannot be ignored.