The responsibility of choosing a career path that takes into account the damages caused by it is placed firmly on the shoulders of the individual. Each person has the greatest control over their own decisions, not the system they are forced to make them in.
When we limit the focus of our strategies to reporting, we implicitly blame not only one singular person, but all people who experienced sexual assault and did not report it, for the violence that dwells on our campus. That blame is, on its own, a violence.
I don’t intend to “out” the Divinity School, but I hope instead that when the Divinity School discloses its sexuality, we students will have already created the necessary support and outreach system—and that this column can start a larger conversation about how our religious institutions feel at Duke.
By now, we're all aware that Duke's response to campus sexual assault is inadequate.
But the world is more complicated than that, and the only reliable way I’ve found to learn about that world is to be more immersed in that world.
The even scarier fact of the matter is just how out of touch older people are, particularly when it comes to handling the crisis. I think kids might have trouble taking their demands about health seriously when their generation is confident that fruit medley is a bigger concern to safety than AR-15’s, but I digress.
Chance, context, and happenstance determined the eventually permanent daily features of our campuses.
The myth that people who use painkillers have done something wrong is a myth that keeps people addicted. It’s a myth that makes me feel shame when I take pain medicine every night. But it is just that: a myth.