RPI Backward: How I was failed by the Institute's Title IX Services

In my three years at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, I got to know my peers very well. I was stalked by a man who wouldn’t take no for an answer. One man made up stories about me being in love with him and told everyone we knew. Another man attempted to groom me into having sex with him over the course of several months. And I was assaulted.

“Not all men!” I can hear the protests already. You’re absolutely right. These weren't just any men. They were fellow RPI students—ones that the school had admitted and ones that the school then decided to harbor, despite their transgressions.

“A Report of Sexual Misconduct may be filed at any time, regardless of the length of time between the alleged Sexual Misconduct and the filing of the Report.” Reading that quote from the RPI Title IX and Sexual Misconduct Policy and Procedures felt like salvation. How could I be this lucky?

My life had fallen apart due to the actions of these men. I fell into a deep depression that lasted years. I stopped going to class, stopped seeing friends, and stopped eating. My grades suffered, and I would have failed out if it weren’t for the genuine kindness of my professors who saw the hardship I was experiencing and extended my due dates. But sifting through the Title IX manual was a beacon of hope in my dark, dark world.

Of course I didn’t want to talk about it. I had barely shared the scantest details with my most trusted friends. But I knew that I couldn’t let the worst of the offenders do this to anyone else. I owed it to the other women here—those that were, like me, just trying to get an education. So I steeled myself and decided I had to make an official report.

Leading up to my call with RPI’s Title IX coordinators, I was exhausted. Not only was I mentally suffering, as I had spent days cross-referencing the policies and procedures posted on the RPI website with my own traumatic memories, but emotionally, I was hanging on by a thread. It’s hard to bare yourself to the scrutiny of others. It’s especially hard to tell a stranger things that—although I know I had no reason to be—I was ashamed about. Despite the efforts of my friends to convince me of the reality of the situation, I blamed myself for a portion of the events that transpired. It was one of the main reasons that I hadn’t immediately reported the offenses.

The lady that picked up the phone was very nice. She listened attentively as I read through my notes and laid everything out for her. I made sure to refer her to specific lines in the Title IX policies that were violated, explaining exactly what happened to me with dates, times, and circumstances. I may have teared up, but I did not cry. This was my time to be strong.

Once I was done, she took enough of a pause that I began to feel nervous. She calmly informed me, as if speaking to a child, that they could definitely look into some of the things that I had said, but overall, there was probably nothing that they could do because—and here she faltered—“he didn’t…really do anything.”

Everything in my world shattered at her words. It was the very same thing I had been telling myself since it happened, my worst nightmare come to life. It was all in my head, and I didn’t really get assaulted. I just blew it out of proportion and ruined my life for nothing.

It was then that I cried.

The Title IX coordinator was quick to say that she could check with her supervisor, and that they would call me back the next day by or before 11 am. To this day, I have not received that return call.

I was choked with fear. I knew the men wouldn’t just stop with me. One of them had been known to hop from one friend group to another, cozying up until he was kicked out for making the women uncomfortable, crossing lines, and shoving past boundaries. He was even banned from clubs by the Student Union, and still, the actual Title IX services did nothing when he was reported.

RPI’s Title IX issues aren’t new. And neither is the rampant sexual misconduct that frequently takes place on the “#2 Happiest College in the U.S.” What sources? Me. My friends. Passing acquaintances. Strangers I heard talking in the hallway in between class. Countless women I know, knew, and didn’t. And since they didn’t choose to air out their personal lives to the world now and for forever, I will keep them unnamed. You must, however, remember that they exist and continue to feel the effects of what was done to them.

RPI Forward is supposed to bring the institute into a new age. According to the official copy, the program “will adapt to the evolving needs of the 21st century and set a standard that others will aspire to follow.” But a new logo and a 10-step plan devoid of Title IX reform won’t change the fact that there are women all over campus being ignored and silenced. It won’t mend the negative feelings that many already have toward the Title IX office, nor will it help to amplify women’s voices, giving them justice and allowing them to take back their autonomy.

What I needed to know when I reached out to RPI’s Title IX services was that they would take my report seriously. I needed someone to take into account the trauma that I had faced. I needed to know that someone was on my side. Instead, I was told that—in the opinion of the Title IX coordinator and against RPI’s Title IX policies and procedures—nothing had happened between him and me, before being ghosted at a time when I was extremely vulnerable.

Every woman on RPI’s campus can feel the echoes of its all-male past—whether that be from the lack of a women’s restroom on many floors of the buildings or the systemic disregard for female safety and well-being that is still ingrained in the institute. The very mortar that holds the school together seems to carry with it cries of “What about his future?”

The biggest lie I told my friends those years ago was that I was okay. I looked them each in the eyes and I refused to tell the truth about what had happened to me and what I was going through. It’s one thing I regret the most—not reaching out. RPI’s biggest lie can be found in it it’s very own Title IX policies and procedures, “Rensselaer considers Sexual Misconduct and Sexual Harassment in all its forms to be a serious offense.”