I’m just one of many sexual assault survivors who have graced national headlines since the #MeTooMovement gained international attention around 2010. Like many others, my story took place on at a college that terribly mishandled my sexual assault.  

The story that isn’t being told is what happens to survivors like me after the headlines die down. My story became national news in 2015. I was sexually assaulted just after my freshman year at Northern Michigan University. I tried to do everything right after the assault: I reported it to the police, tried to get on with my life, and went to the university counseling department. I was eventually diagnosed with C-PTSD as a result of the assault.  

However, in March of that year, I received an email from staff at the Dean of Students telling me that if I talked about thoughts of self-harm or suicide, I’d be expelled. This was confusing because I hadn’t done any of that. But if I had been struggling with these feelings, the first place I would have wanted to find support would have been with my friends. 

This email from the Dean prompted me to close myself off from my friends at a time when I needed them the most. My grades suffered and I lost weight. Still, I tried to change their policy. I knew that NMU would continue hurting students with this policy unless someone forced them to change it. I knew I’d never be able to heal and move on if I knew NMU was still hurting students in the same way they hurt me. 

While working with the Foundation for Individual Rights and Expression on my case with NMU, I found out that my university had threatened over 100 vulnerable students with expulsion over a 10-year period. The email I had received wasn’t the wayward action of one person, it was a widely known university policy that, up until my story, had never really been challenged. 

I think about the many people who were hurt and didn’t know where to turn. One story in particular sticks out to me — a woman who was expelled after being abducted by her boyfriend. NMU didn’t want her to share details and felt it was too much of a risk for her to be on campus. Today, she’s still repaying student loans for the degree she wasn’t allowed to complete. 

My story isn’t unique. Sexual assault survivors and others have been silenced at college campuses across the nation. Each week it seems some new scandal is flashing across the headlines. I see comments online of people shaming the school and wondering how this could ever happen. Then, in the next week or so, another case happens. It feels like Groundhog Day, where instead of being the same day, it’s the same story played out on campuses across the country. 

I’ve spoken to survivors from the Larry Nassar-MSU case, Penn State, Vanderbilt, Stanford, and so many other campuses–so many that I had to create a spreadsheet to keep them all straight. After my court case, I began seeking out other survivors and those harmed by wayward university policies. I met with students who were expelled for reporting hazing, students who were denied graduation for reporting sexual harassment of professors, and countless other stories, each unique but with the common thread of universities irreparably harming them. In total, to date, I’ve personally spoken to about 120 sexual assault survivors and over 25 students hurt by other harmful university policies. 

After the headlines, I’m left healing. There has been no follow-up on the results of my lawsuit. No articles about how my college tried to keep me from graduating. If you Google my name, there’s nothing setting the record straight. And there’s been no real closure. 

I never got an apology from anyone for silencing me. It wasn’t just the Dean.  I had advisors, professors, and administrators I was close to. Not one of them reached out to check on me or to inquire about the conclusion of this. When I was shopping at the grocery store after it made national headlines, I was bombarded with people asking me why I’d do that to the university, as if the headlines they got for their reprehensible policy were somehow my fault. 

In 2019, 4 years after I started, my case finally came to a close. The federal Department of Justice cited NMU for violating the civil rights of students with disabilities and for overreach. After DOJ involvement, NMU finally agreed to change the policy and pay damages. After this, I had to fight in court, and eventually, NMU settled. I got less than $50,000. The money paid off just some of my student loans and allowed me to pay a deposit on an apartment. I moved out of state to start a new life. 

The assault and being silenced by my university has shaped my life. 

And some might say that in my case I was fortunate to get a settlement at all. I spent over 40 hours calling law offices finding someone to take my case. I sold my old car and used that money to put money down on a $2,000 retainer for a lawyer. I didn’t eat well for months. 

I sacrificed, and somehow, by luck, I was able to reverse NMU’s policy. Not many 21-year-olds can afford a lawyer or can find one willing to take a case like mine. Because my case happened during the height of #MeToo, I was also lucky the media attention put pressure on my school. I remember how the university finally started responding to my requests to change the policy after my article in the Huffington Post. Without these things and a lot of chance and luck, I still think I’d be waiting for a conclusion. But justice shouldn’t be dependent on luck and chance. 

The reason these events keep happening is due, in part, to the fact that there are huge power imbalances on university campuses. Universities know students don’t know who to report to, and that many students can’t afford legal help. When I was contacted by a student in 2020 who told me NMU was threatening to expel him over a free speech issue, I realized that this problem won’t end until there’s permanent action to prevent it. 

Free speech issues are a frequent and troubling occurrence on college campuses, often manifesting in various forms that stifle the voices of students and survivors. These restrictions not only impede open dialogue but also hinder the ability of survivors to share their experiences and seek support. Recognizing and addressing free speech as a survivor issue is crucial in creating a campus environment where everyone can speak openly about their experiences without fear of retribution or censorship.

There’s little fear of consequences from universities, and the worst that could happen is some paltry fines. Universities are largely not centralized, no one is addressing the issues across multiple universities in the state. It’s treated as an island of poor policies and negligence and an individual issue rather than a systemic issue. 

One reason universities may feel like they’ll be left off the hook is because so often, after media outlets initially parachute and get the headlines that bring audiences to their outlets — they don’t return to the story or their sources to check in, to tell what happened next, to help us get to accountability.

So, I wanted to share my story. The side that you don’t see. After the headlines, I’m still healing, just like all the other survivors out there. Ten years later, I’m still waiting for that apology from my university. And every day, there are more people like me.  Survivors like me are still here, still healing, and we are all still waiting for the day when our stories lead to lasting change, not just fleeting outrage.