But—BUT!—that’s not exactly true. At least one man read Jaylan’s response. “CharlesSnarkly666” wrote, “Don’t show ass if you don’t want attention! #Yogapants”

My sister stared into her camera, blank-faced.

CRESSIE

Moving on. The replies to the one comment are well over three hundred. I’ve seen more than a few coming from some fellow CU students. It’s very brave of you to share any of this. I know because I’m about to tell my own story, and it scares the shit out of me. But you’ve inspired me, sisters. Nothing changes if we stay quiet.

My first day on this campus, right after my parents dropped me off, I went to a dorm mixer and met a cute guy. I was very interested, as was he. We talked, exchanged numbers, then kept mingling. I met a second cute guy, and was very interested. What can I say? There are some fine men here on the CU campus. Well, guy #1 observed me flirting with guy #2. I didn’t know this until I went to the restroom, and came out to find guy #1 waiting for me. I was startled but initially I thought little of it. Maybe he’d come from the men’s room. That’s how we rationalize, right. Then he says, “So, you’re one of those.”

I was confused. Remember, I didn’t know he’d seen me flirting with guy #2, and that shouldn’t have mattered anyway. I’d just met this dude.

Grinning like he’d cracked some kind of code, he says, “Should’ve told me you were a freak. I like that better than the nice-girl act anyway.”

At that point I got nervous, and realized in this bathroom corridor there’s only me and him. The party was back the other way, the way he’s blocking with his body, and the music’s loud. No one’s hearing anything happening in that moment. I say, “Excuse me.” And try to slip by him. He grabs my arm, pulls me right up against him. “Hold up. We ain’t friends no more?”

I told him to get off me, but he clamped down tighter. I’m talking pain; he was a big dude. Then he pushed me against the wall, snaked his free hand under my skirt, rubbed my thighs, said, “I saw how you were throwing it at that pretty boy. If you want it that bad you don’t have to shop around. I’m willing.”

I . . . was not.

I hit him in the chest, and I sucked in breath to scream, when three more guys came around the corner. We saw them at the same time, and Mister Assault let me go, trying to play the whole thing off. He was smiling, and asking the guys what’s up. They had guilty looks on their faces; they’d seen enough to know what they’d interrupted wasn’t cool. But, eventually, they smiled too. Comfortable with whatever they’d walked up on being over.

Pushing my way between them, I made it back to the party, then told my roommate I needed to leave, then spent the rest of the night in my dorm room, under my comforter, shook and confused. Questioning all the things I’d done wrong. I went to the bathroom by myself. Stupid me. I socialized with strangers. What was I thinking? I gave two boys my number. I’m a monster. All this internal second-guessing leading to an ever-growing checklist of things I’d never do again in an effort to stay safe. A checklist I shouldn’t need.