Power is a funny thing.
There are times when power falls in the hands of someone deserving — they make healthy connections, build relationships, work hard and hold accountability.
This type of power, however, isn’t as common as we assume.
More often than not, powerful people push others down on their way to the top. More often than not, powerful people hurt those in their path just because they can.
The first taste of power is addicting, consuming. When a person gains power, they don’t want to risk anything to give it up.
I unknowingly gave someone his first taste of power, and I never claimed it back.
In 2020, I was sexually assaulted by a current Penn State student. Now, that student sits in leadership positions for two different Penn State organizations.
I can’t help but wonder: Was the night he slid into bed next to my unconscious body his first taste of power? What if I told someone? What if I reported him? What if I could have stopped the inevitable power surge to follow?
It’s too late now. The evidence is destroyed along with my blurred memories of that night.
Despite my urge to start a narrative, I still can’t bring myself to mutter who he is. As much as I want to scream his name — to tell his family, to tell his girlfriend, to tell his organizations, to tell everyone who could have once known him — I just can’t.
Power enforces silence, and the silence becomes deafening.
The worst part of all is knowing he’s not the only one who sits on a throne in the palm of Penn State’s hand.
I’m not blaming the university, nor am I blaming every student who holds a position of power. I’m blaming everyone who lets them get away with it.
Do something. Tell someone. Investigate harder — stop them.
It’s enraging to hear allegations surface, knowing they’ll be shoved under the rug to protect the reputation of the university and the organization. It’s disgusting to see how a club’s standing means more to its leaders than the safety of its members.
In May 2022, an Instagram account emerged, titled “Why I Didn’t Report at PSU.” Every few days, the unaffiliated account posts the anonymous stories submitted in a Google form by anyone who’s willing to share their experience of sexual violence.
Individual posts state the following:
“He was a star basketball player.”
"He was an RA from another building.”
“PSU will always defend an athlete.”
“He no longer works here and instead is the head of another program at another school.”
“He is on the executive board of my favorite club.”
This doesn’t need to be the case. This shouldn’t be the case. It’s 2023. When are we going to wake up and start believing survivors?
These survivors — of varying genders, I should add — either fear not being believed or were not believed.
There’s more to it than filing a Title IX report, claiming to be transparent and stating there’s no other options.
While you sit around and claim innocence, the survivors are out there — suffocating in silence.
We continue to excuse the behaviors and the actions of assaulters. We reward them with opportunities and connections. We allow them to take advantage of the vulnerable. We enable the vicious cycle to continue. We do everything but come forward.
In turn, we may become part of the problem.
Stop putting accused assaulters and rapists on a pedestal. The reputation of your club is not as important as the well-being of those around you.
Stop hiding them.