Opinion: Believing sexual assault survivors is suicide prevention

Trigger warning: Sexual assault

As National Suicide Prevention Awareness Month comes to a close, one notable, often overlooked group that is especially at risk are survivors of sexual assault, intimate partner abuse, and stalking. Suicide Prevention Awareness Month is recognized across the country, including at CU Boulder, which hosted a Suicide Prevention Week early on in the month from Sept. 4 to 10. 

With Colorado being a leading state in suicide rates, CU offers multiple resources and programs, including the #BeThe1 campaign, which encourages students to help out their peers by looking out for warning signs, checking in on their friends, connecting people to resources, and asking for help themselves. The CU Health and Wellness Services website lists possible signals that someone may be struggling, such as “[The person] expresses they feel like a burden, has become isolated, has stopped doing things they love or enjoy, is no longer taking care of themselves, and starts talking about wanting to die or disappear.” 

There’s evidence that sexual assault is prevalent at American universities. Know Your IX, a nonprofit organization combating rape culture on college campuses and spreading awareness about resources for survivors, reported that 19 percent of women will be sexually assaulted in college, and that the majority of undetected rapists will be serial rapists, averaging six victims per rapist. 

The overlap between struggling with depression or suicidal thoughts and being a survivor of sexual assault is also well-documented. Of those who do report being sexually assaulted, RAINN reports that 94 percent of women who are raped experience symptoms of PTSD during the two weeks following, and 30 percent report symptoms nine months later. Additionally, 33 percent of women who are raped contemplate suicide. What’s more, the National Library of Medicine found that the lifetime cost of rape is estimated to be $122,461 per victim. The population economic burden is $3.1 trillion over victims’ lifetime, of which the government only pays 32 percent, or an estimated $1 trillion. This is due to the traumatic nature of rape and the likelihood of survivors being diagnosed with PTSD or CPTSD (a lifelong, uncurable diagnosis), in addition to emergency room costs, emergency contraception or abortion if needed, psychiatric hospitalizations, and other possible mental and physical illnesses that may develop as a result of rape.

Another possible consequence of rape that many survivors are affected by is myofascial pain syndrome. As outlined in the popular book, “The Body Keeps the Score,” by Bessel van der Kolk, myofascial pain is a condition where a patient experiences chronic musculoskeletal pain with no real medical reason, which for cis-female rape victims particularly can present as vulvodynia. For myself, this burden manifests in costs of both mental and physical healthcare including EMDR and CBT therapy, psychiatry and medication copays, hospital bills, frequent OB-GYN visits, and  acupuncture and yoga for myofascial pain.

The campus resource that serves as the primary advocacy group for student survivors of sexual violence and other traumatic events is the Office of Victim Assistance (OVA). According to the OVA website, the office “provides free and confidential support, consultation, advocacy and short-term trauma-focused counseling services to University of Colorado Boulder students, graduate students, faculty and staff who have experienced a traumatic, disturbing or life disruptive event. We are also a resource for witnesses and secondary survivors.” However, the website emphasizes that OVA does not investigate or adjudicate cases.

The office serves as a safe place for survivors to confide in a trauma-trained staff member and discuss their options if they were to decide to report to the Office of Institutional Equity and Compliance (OIEC), which conducts investigations into sexual misconduct and makes decisions on potential university sanctions. 

In light of recent events, the need to focus on survivors as an at-risk group is more apparent than ever. After reports of a sexual assault in Williams Village North just before the start of the semester, early September reports of break-ins resulting in sexual assaults, and mass groups of survivors and opponents of rape culture protesting outside of Pi Kappa Alpha fraternity last year, new sexual assaults are simultaneously causing the issue to be more widespread by creating new survivors and retraumatizing existing survivors at an alarming frequency. In light of these events, I spoke to OVA Director Jessica Ladd-Webert about what can be done to combat the prevalence of sexual violence and rape culture, and how people can best support the survivors in their lives during turbulent times. 

Protests on campus calling for action to address the pervasiveness of rape culture at CU, especially when perpetuated within Greek life, have resulted in little action. The University declined to comment.  When asked about the specific overlap between fraternity culture and sexual assault, Weber responded, citing data from the recent town hall on Monday, Sept. 26,  and task force assembled to address campus sexual misconduct, “If someone experienced a sexual assault, specifically if they were undergraduate women, the survey showed that 30 percent reported that their assault occurred at a Greek house. I think that is a data point to be looking at, and it will be a data point the university will be looking at as we dive further into the data from the 2021 survey.” 

Weber added that her statement was not intended to generalize about the entire institution of Greek life, and also that educating people to be effective bystanders can not only help survivors but can prevent assaults from happening in the first place. Comparatively, according to a Los Angeles Times piece addressing fraternity rape cases at USC, a 2011 Vermont study found that fraternity men were three times more likely to rape than their non-affiliated counterparts. 

In addition to local events on campus, sexual violence has been a focus in the news and has developed into a partisan issue. Particularly in the wake of the #MeToo movement and Dr. Christine Blasey Ford’s testimony during the confirmation proceedings of now-Supreme Court Justice Brett Kavanaugh, in addition to the #MeToo Movement, rape culture has been at the forefront of the national conversation for years. Even so, Trump-era alterations to the U.S. Board of Education’s Title IX policy that further the traumatic impact on victims still have yet to be reversed, despite President Joe Biden’s claims that he would review Title IX policy within the first hundred days of his presidency. 

One notable aspect of these new regulations, specifically the aspect of cross examination, subject survivors to cross-examination in the formal reporting process, which can be an extremely discouraging process for many, especially when it involves having to see their attacker. 

In response to these regulations, Ladd-Webert clarified the difference between the OVA and OIEC offices, that OVA did not change, saying, “At CU, cross-examinations are conducted virtually, which is better compared to in-person. We had to learn a lot about the new regulations and understand them in order to help people be fully informed about their options.” She added that “OVA will never encourage or discourage someone from reporting to OIEC or law enforcement, but instead will show what each process looks like, help survivors weigh their pros and cons, and will offer support in any decision the survivor chooses to make from there.” Since OVA is not the office that carries out the actual investigation after a survivor reports, the office that actually changed policies was OIEC, who would be the party conducting all interviews examinations including the cross examination. 

Since I reported my rape in the fall semester of 2019,  I was lucky enough to not be required to undergo a cross examination, and if I were asked to, since my rapist was a well-connected, wealthy man with an attorney on speed-dial, I most likely would not have continued on with the OIEC process. Throughout the seven month long formal investigation with OIEC, I was interviewed on multiple different occasions and asked to recount the events of the same evening looking for changes or gaps in my story, which never changed, in addition to interviews with potential witnesses and evidence I submitted. I never had to see my attacker in person or virtually as part of this process, but I can only imagine the traumatic nature of either possibility.

Aside from the investigation process however, I saw my attacker multiple times during the fall semester despite his temporary expulsion from campus until a decision was reached, and reported these incidents to OIEC including the times and locations, and never heard back. At the end of winter break where I was happy to be on the opposite side of the country as my attacker, I was notified that his expulsion was being lifted, effective the first day of Spring semester. I was asked to give a statement of how this will impact my wellbeing and academic performance, where I said something along the lines of I will not go to main campus or attend my classes, and that this would have devastating consequences for my mental health. Unsurprisingly, it did. I ended up withdrawing from the Spring 2020 semester entirely, delaying my graduation date, losing my tuition for that semester, isolating myself from my friends and becoming extremely suicidal. When COVID-19 initially hit and sent us home from the dorms, it felt—and was to me—like a saving grace. 

Furthermore, the reactions of close friends and family members have a significant impact on a survivor’s experience, and can influence their decision as to whether or not they’ll report the incident. Some examples of reactions that can harm survivors are victim blaming and retaliation. Common examples of victim blaming include statements like, “What were you wearing?” or “How did you put yourself in that situation?” as well as judgment based on whether or not a victim may have been intoxicated, which are all irrelevant to breaches of consent. In my experience, when I told my friends that I was confused and concerned that something bad may have happened to me, I was met with responses like, “Well, you didn’t say no, right?”, despite the obviously violent nature of the attack and the reality that I was afraid to say no, and actually afraid for my life. 

Retaliation is what survivors can experience, especially socially, if they do decide to speak out, which can be traumatic in itself. It’s often what most people fear when they are deciding whether or not to share their story. Examples of retaliation include spreading narratives about the survivor being a liar, or most commonly “crazy”, and can go as far as harassment, physical violence, and doxxing. Know Your IX states that 90 percent of campus sexual assaults are committed by perpetrators that the survivor knows, increasing the likelihood of negative social ramifications for survivors. 

Famous survivor and author Chanel Miller authentically portrays the experience of deciding to share her name and story—and the coinciding fear of retaliation—in a quote for a Time Magazine feature: “In the victim realm, we speak of anonymity like a golden shield… But while everyone around me discussed the protection it afforded, no one discussed the cost. Never to speak aloud who you are, what you’re thinking, what’s important to you. I was lonely…. It bothered me that coming forward should feel like heading toward a guillotine. I don’t think most survivors want to live in hiding. We do because silence means safety. Openness means retaliation. Which means it’s not the telling of the stories that we fear, it’s what people will do when we tell our stories… We suffer from society’s shallow understanding…Instead, the victim has done us the favor of alerting us to danger in the community. Openness should be embraced.”

In my experience as a survivor in college, Miller’s sentiments ring just as true in the smaller microcosm of college and social politics. 

In addition to the obvious factor of believing survivors, there are more ways we can offer our support. Ladd-Webert emphasizes the importance of the support systems in survivors’ lives, citing 2015 and 2021 sexual misconduct surveys reflecting that “if a survivor is going to tell anyone, it is most often a friend or roommate first, and then maybe a parent or family member or a faculty member. And how those people respond will either increase or decrease the chances of a survivor coming to a counselor, or reaching out for help, potentially even reporting. So we want to grow the skills for people to provide a supportive, compassionate, non-judgemental, non-fixing response: This means giving people choices, taking the situation seriously, and checking in about emotions.” 

Two points that the OVA director doubled down on were firstly, the importance of not inserting our opinion on what a person should do because “we are not the ones living that experience, and we’re not the ones who will have to go through that process” of reporting, and secondly, the importance of validating survivors’ emotions, such as anger or sadness. The high-stakes nature of these interactions is often overlooked by peers but can have a severe impact both negatively and positively on the survivor. Webert said, in regards to survivors’ risk for mental health issues, that the 2021 survey asked about the impact of sexual assault and domestic violence on people who reported that experience .Unsurprisingly to her as a long-time victim advocate and counselor, a large percentage said it had an impact on their mental health including having thoughts of self harm and suicide. 

Webert says that this is due to the fact that, “Victims often feel self blame when that isn’t the case… depending on your access to resources like counseling, whether your friends and family do or don’t support you, can all increase or decrease those negative feelings a survivor might already have. If we’re looking at someone who doesn’t have good supports in their life, has experienced a sexual assault, maybe alreadt had struggles with mental health or past trauma, you could potentially see an increase in other things like depression, anxiety, and suicide.”

 Overall, in the face of a high prevalence of sexual assault at CU, the need for more feminist, student led organizations to help survivors, secondary survivors, witnesses and allies is at an all time high. These organizations can help students build community and organize action to change the dynamic that is so prevalent on our campus. As discourse around survivors coming forward remains hostile, one powerful quote from Chanel Miller’s memoir, “Know My Name,” effectively disproves the negative narrative around survivors who come forward , saying, “Mark the day. Trace it back. I can almost guarantee that after the assault she tried to live her life. Ask her what she did the next day and she’d say, well, I went to work. She didn’t pick up a pitchfork, hire a lawyer. She made her bed, buttoned up her shirt, took shower after shower. She tried to believe she was unchanged, to move on until her legs gave out. Every woman who spoke out did so because she hit a point where she could no longer live another day in the life she tried to build. So she turned, slowly, back around to face it. Society thinks we live to come after him. When in fact, we live to live. That’s it.” 

I was raped in my dorm room in Williams Village North on Oct. 5, 2019, at approximately 1 a.m. On Oct. 30, 2019, which was coincidentally my 18th birthday, I initiated counseling at OVA and reported my assault. My rapist was eventually found responsible by OIEC in May of 2020 and was suspended from campus for one year. He now attends Arizona State University and will still be graduating in the Spring of 2023. I, on the other hand, live with his name surrounding mine, a C-PTSD diagnosis, tens of thousands of dollars worth of debt from medical bills and lost tuition, retribution, and a delayed graduation date. I still consider myself lucky, since most other survivors do not even get a fraction of the “justice” I received. I am also lucky to have had a couple of few and far between friends that believed and supported me, and the life-saving counseling, advocacy, and resources provided at OVA— without which I might not be here today. 

The OVA provides free and confidential counseling with no appointment necessary from 12:30 p.m. to 3 p.m. on Mondays, Wednesdays and Thursdays. There are also additional support services on campus, including a Moving Through Trauma support group offered at CAPS and survivor-focused support groups offered by a local chapter of Moving to End Sexual Assault (MESA). In sum, I implore readers to always be supportive of survivors, especially because you never know who in your life may be one, and supporting a survivor directly or indirectly could potentially save a life.