By Danielle Georgiou, Children’s Service Manager at Oasis
Firstly, my heart goes out to every woman who has been violated by a man, whose boundaries have been crossed by a man, whose own trauma of sexual violence has been brought back to the fore as the headlines are once again dominated by a harrowing case of sexual violence. Please take care of yourself, do the things that ground you, and please switch off from the news where you can – it’s all been a lot.
The allegations emerging from Cornell University have reignited a familiar debate as people on social media and in the news discuss legal processes, university policies, consent laws and whether institutions responded appropriately. Those conversations matter because fairness and accountability matters, but how many high-profile cases do we need before we confront the deeper issue of violence against women and girls that is again (and again, and again) sitting right in front of us, and affecting all of us…?
I am thinking of the harm that was done to her, this brave young woman who is now trying to rebuild her life while pursuing allegations of serious sexual abuse. And yet so much of what I am reading and hearing is focused on legal technicalities rather than the acts of degrading violence those young men inflicted on her and what that has done to her. Once again, public attention risks becoming consumed by process instead of the human being, the daughter, the soul, who was harmed.
This week alone in the UK, we’ve seen two stark reminders of the misogynistic attitudes that continue to put women and girls at risk. A 14-year-old boy was sentenced after stabbing a girl multiple times because she didn’t want to date him. And today we’re hearing the findings of an independent review into a hotel chain after a woman was sexually assaulted by a male colleague of hers who was given access to her hotel room by saying he was her boyfriend.
The common thread in these stories, and in so many of the domestic abuse cases we deal with every day, is this: men feeling entitled to women’s access, attention, bodies, space or trust, and women paying the price when that entitlement turns into abuse, violence or exploitation.
That’s why the way we talk about cases like Cornell is so important. According to public reporting, the civil lawsuit names seven defendants: Matthew Ingalls, Johnathan Newell, Winston Lee, Gillio Lopes, Diego Sarabia, Scott Norris and Scott Kretzschmar. But I find the language surrounding the case telling. References to “the seven” creates an uncomfortable sense of group identity, almost like the branding of a pop group or a team of superheroes. How disturbing. To me, that risks softening individual accountability and shifting attention away from the woman at the centre of the allegations. The accused become a recognisable group, and the victim-survivor becomes a legal issue to be debated.
And then there is the continued focus on intoxication. Discussions quickly turn to what she drank, what substances she may have taken, how impaired she was, where she went and whether she meets a particular legal threshold. The spotlight is directed towards her actions instead of the alleged actions of those accused of harming her. We see it time and time again – this is absolutely not unique to Cornell, and it is exhausting.
Across decades, women and girls who report abuse have found themselves under a microscope. Their decisions and behaviours are examined, and their credibility is put into question. Meanwhile, narratives emerge that minimise, excuse or contextualise the actions of alleged perpetrators. We continue to ask, “Why was she there? What did she take?” long before we ask, “Why did they believe they could to do this to another human being?”
Real progress will come when responsibility is placed *explicitly* where it belongs: on those who choose to abuse, exploit or take advantage of another person’s vulnerability.
