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The sexual assault allegations involving the “Cornell 7” have brought renewed attention to painful questions about consent, institutional responsibility, and the treatment of women who report harm. The allegations must be examined through a thorough and fair process. At the same time, we can examine the cultural assumptions that shape our responses to sexual violence and the support we make available to those affected.

As a psychologist, a woman, and a mother of three sons, I feel a responsibility to participate in this conversation. In mental health care, our work includes helping people recover a sense of dignity, choice, and connection. It also includes recognizing the social conditions that can undermine those things.

Whose future are we protecting?

When allegations of sexual violence emerge, concern often turns toward the future of the accused: their education, career, relationships, and reputation. A fair process matters. So does asking whether we extend the same concern to the person reporting harm.

What about her education? Her relationships? Her freedom to move through the world without constantly assessing danger? What about the energy required to seek help, navigate an investigation, or continue daily life while strangers debate her credibility?

A feminist perspective asks us to pay attention to whose losses become visible and whose are treated as secondary. A woman’s future deserves full consideration, regardless of how promising, accomplished, or well-connected someone else may be.

The burden of being the “perfect victim”

We give women extensive instructions for avoiding sexual violence. Watch your drink. Stay with your friends. Be careful whom you trust. Leave before it gets late.

People may take precautions because they want to feel safer. The problem arises when we use those precautions to assign responsibility after harm has been reported. Questions about drinking, clothing, sexual history, or why someone attended a party can imply that protection is conditional on making choices others approve of.

No one earns sexual violence by drinking, flirting, trusting someone, or entering a room. Consent to one interaction does not grant unrestricted access to a person’s body.

We also need to release the expectation that a person must present their experience in one particular way to deserve care. Someone seeking support should not have to perform distress, disclose every detail, or pursue a formal complaint to be treated with compassion.

Raising sons who can challenge their peers

As a mother of sons, I believe this work belongs in our homes as much as in our schools and universities.

Teaching consent requires ongoing conversations about autonomy, pressure, vulnerability, and respect. We need to ask young people how they respond when friends objectify someone, push past a boundary, or treat another person’s discomfort as entertainment. We need to help them practice the words and actions that make intervention possible.

Speaking up can carry a social cost. That is precisely why young people need adults who model accountability and make room for difficult conversations. We cannot ask them to challenge harmful behavior while teaching them that loyalty means protecting people from consequences.

Loving our children includes taking concerns about their behavior seriously. It means helping them become people who can hear a boundary, tolerate rejection, acknowledge harm, and accept responsibility.

Care and fair process belong together

Mental health care and investigations serve different purposes. An investigation evaluates evidence and determines responsibility. Support gives someone space to address their distress, consider their options, and make decisions about their own life.

We can uphold a fair process while ensuring that someone reporting harm has access to care. We can listen with compassion without claiming to know facts we have not established.

Institutions should make that support accessible and clearly explain reporting options, available resources, and the limits of confidentiality. People seeking help deserve to understand what will happen next and where they retain choices.

A feminist approach also asks whose access to safety and support is constrained by money, race, disability, gender identity, sexuality, or dependence on an institution. Sexual violence can affect people of any gender. Examining gendered power should deepen our concern for everyone who experiences it.

For those affected by this conversation

You do not owe the public your story. You are allowed to limit your exposure to coverage, decline conversations, and decide when and with whom you want to speak.

You also do not need a court outcome or another person’s agreement before seeking support. A therapeutic space should respect your pace and your goals, including your right to decide what you are ready to discuss.

The question I return to is simple: what would change if we gave women’s safety, education, dignity, and futures the same sustained attention we give to protecting reputations?

That question belongs in our families, our institutions, and our communities. Our answers need to be visible in how we listen, what we teach, and what we are willing to hold accountable.

Her future matters, too.

Dr. Tiffany Griffiths