Two years ago, I graduated summa cum laude with a BA in International Studies and a minor in creative writing. I’ve spent the time since then reckoning with what happened during my time in college, a time that should have been noteworthy because of fleeting memories and the joys of a period that many call the best time of their lives. For me, it was a nightmare.
In early 2022, I was employed by the department I was studying in as a student worker. I managed social media, event planning, and administrative work for the department along with serving as a receptionist in the department office on campus for 20 hours a week. During that time, one of the professors in the department engaged in increasingly disturbing behavior. I spoke to my direct supervisor about it, and she agreed that his behavior was uncomfortable and admitted that she stayed in a different office when she knew he’d be in the office in order to avoid dealing with him. She and others told me that he was “just weird” and that I should just ignore it. His behavior escalated and included efforts to get me to spend time in his office alone with him. After a final escalation of behavior, I spoke with the department chair, and she agreed to speak with him. The next time he was in the office after she spoke with him, he cornered me in the conference room and tried to justify his behavior.
Three years later, hindsight and more life experience mean that if I was back in that position, I would have reported earlier and taken more steps to protect myself. But at 19 and 20 years old, as I was during that time, I respected my teachers and supervisors enough to believe that they would adhere to their stated principles and protect me. I was wrong.
I reported to the Title IX office at the university and was ultimately told by the department that I would be required to work at the front desk ten feet from his office for my entire shift with no exceptions, even if it meant being alone with him. It was at that point that I made the difficult decision to resign from my position to preserve my safety. I contacted the case manager in the Title IX office to restate my desire to pursue an investigation regarding the matter. I was informed that since I had already removed myself from the situation, there was no point to pursuing further action. They had already decided to ignore their obligation to investigate despite the documentation I had handed over and the fact that no one was contesting the events that had taken place. When I received the final notice of file closure in late March of 2022, I submitted a complaint to the Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights. I complied with the interview the OCR asked of me, and I turned over every piece of documentation I was in possession of and continued to do so for the rest of my time attending the university. During that time, I was subjected to a campaign of retaliation first by the department I had been working in when the events occurred and continued to study in and then, after OCR opened an investigation into the university for Sexual Harassment and Retaliation in August of 2022, by more senior officials at the university. During that time, I was also told repeatedly that speaking about what had happened may lead to legal action against me.
Those threats, combined with personal situations that occurred concurrently, led to my silence on what had happened despite my moral and ethical objections to the events that had taken place and the fact that the university has never publicly acknowledged the complaint even though it’s listed as an ongoing investigation by the Department of Education’s website. My decision to speak on this issue now is less about my desire to bring my personal experience to the forefront and more as a credential to speak on the impact of the Trump administration’s closure of seven regional offices that handled OCR investigations, including the Chicago office that handled mine. The administration had already paused progress on investigations between January 20th and March 6th and now complainants like me have been left with no line of communication and no knowledge of what comes next.
This action has decimated ongoing investigations into institutions that have pursued discriminatory and unlawful courses of actions against students, all while politicizing and weaponizing the last line of defense that we had, efforts that now include the likes of attacking Chicago Public Schools for creating programs to support students of color who have historically been sidelined in our education system.
These actions serve another purpose beyond discouraging equity driven programs, they degrade public trust in a system that is meant to protect our most vulnerable students. Investigations based on abhorrent abuses of power may now be dismissed unjustly and those that may be closed and require compliance action won’t receive proper weight from the public as before.
The media and legislators have been otherwise occupied with other issues, sometimes consequential and sometimes just flashier, and neither have paid this issue due diligence since the closures occurred in late March. Regardless, the students who have already relied on the protection the OCR provides and those who will be denied the process I was able to access deserve better than quiet resignation to the whims of an administration that cares little for those who rely on civil rights provisions for a tolerable educational environment.
Ungovernable Magazine 