Last week James Jelin ’16 wrote an article about sexual assault, and some of the nuances that make statistics regarding the issue murky at best. My article is in no way meant to attack Jelin. Rather, its purpose is to discuss some of the issues he brought up, and to try and reach some kind of conclusion about the messages we get about sexual assault at Bowdoin and in the culture at large.

In his article, Jelin cites a few of his friends’ concerns that they might be falsely accused of sexual assault. He also examines a number of studies with seemingly dissonant statistics regarding sexual assault. For instance, the Center for Disease Control (CDC) found that roughly two million women experienced rape or attempted rape in 2011, while a Department of Justice Survey only reported 250,000. These discrepancies are troubling, certainly. 

Jelin mentions the oft-cited statistic that one in five college women experience sexual assault or attempted sexual assault, but notes that, “two large public universities cannot adequately represent the entire nation.” Therefore, the author posits, these statistics are of limited relevance to our conversation about sexual assault here at Bowdoin.

And I see this point. Rape is an especially complicated crime to prosecute because of the intimate nature of the act itself (and many victims know their rapist) and the frequent lack of concrete evidence, especially if a victim reports the incident many weeks or years after the assault took place. 

It’s also difficult to draw conclusions when there is significant disagreement about what constitutes sexual assault and consent. The lack of clear definitions, a victim’s potential hesitance to reveal her/his attacker, and the role alcohol plays in the entire sexual process, are only a few reasons why data about sexual assault might become convoluted.

It would be wrong, however, to conclude that these statistics are irrelevant to our discussion. Maybe we have to talk about them. It might be relevant to examine why these statistics can seem disparate, and what some of the reasons for this might be. It might be important to consider that certain studies on sexual assault are conducted through anonymous reports, whereas reporting sexual assault on a campus—especially one as small as Bowdoin—is a completely different endeavor. 

It is an unfortunate fact that when girls consider reporting rape or attempted rape, they fear accusation of a false report and therefore report nothing at all. Indeed, maybe the most important statistics to think about are those that do not and will not exist because they represent sexual violence that has gone unreported.  

These statistics lead us to something more relevant than numbers, which is the issue itself. Are men really concerned about being accused? OK, then we need to take that seriously and think about why the boundary between assault and consent has become blurred.

We also have to examine some of these concerns about false accusations. Is there a small chance a reported rape is a false report? Yes. But has it also been made abundantly clear that, more often than not, a report is true? Yes. Having spoken to several victims of sexual violence, it has become clear to me that reporting a sexual assault—much like the crime itself—is not something to be taken lightly.

The chances that a young woman would accuse someone at random are extremely low, considering how much effort, time, money and agony are put into an official trial. And yes, a sexual assault charge would injure a person’s professional and social reputation; but being sexually assaulted will also have a lasting effect. 

What does not make sense to me is the attitude that being falsely accused of rape is worse than to being raped and not receiving justice. Both are awful; but why has it become the default to privilege one narrative over the other?

We can discuss men’s worries that they might be accused of sexual assault, but we should also be thinking about why women continue to be sexually assaulted. Here at Bowdoin, we have to be careful about how we define consent. As Jelin pointed out, if you are paying attention to your partner and really listening to them for consent, it is unlikely you will be accused. (And anyway, shouldn’t refraining from possibly sexually assaulting someone be a moral choice rather than just an attempt to avoid punishment?)

Overall I think statistics do not do justice to the complexity of this problem. Liberal arts schools like Bowdoin encourage their students to come forward and report rape or attempted rape, and many people do. But the process is extremely fraught—especially when the messages we receive so often blame and shame the victim. Without a basic level of trust, without a willingness to believe a woman’s story, there can never be peace for victims of sexual assault. And that is a tragedy.