Cornell University: Why I'm Angry and Why you Should Be As Well

If you have somehow not seen the news about what happened at Cornell University then let me catch you up.

The “Cornell 7” refers to seven former Chi Phi fraternity members accused in a civil lawsuit of drugging and raping a 20-year-old Cornell student in October 2024. She alleges the assaults continued for SEVEN hours, with fraternity members using Snapchat to encourage others to join. Her lawsuit also accuses Cornell of failing to protect her.

No criminal charges were initially brought. Following the lawsuit and renewed public scrutiny in September 2026, prosecutors reopened the investigation. Cornell says its own disciplinary proceedings resulted in suspensions and expulsions. The allegations remain contested, and some defendants have denied wrongdoing.

Now you know how I said Cornell had disciplinary proceedings? They made them write essays. Essays. Seven men raped a woman and they had to write essays. If you are caught plagiarising at Queen’s University Belfast, you are expelled. Do you see the issue here?

Not only was there a group chat to encourage others to join, there were 50 members involved in it. What infuriates me is that NOT ONE of those 50 men thought to say “hey, let’s maybe not” or contact the police, or save this 20 year old woman. My anger towards this entire story in incomprehensible. This woman’s life has been changed and traumatised forever because of this. Cornell University have offered no support for her, she had to leave the university because of her trauma. Yet here we are arguing about why nothing was done about it there and then? As a woman this infuriates me, and not only as a woman but as a person. Underneath all this anger is sadness though.

Because the saddest part is that I wasn’t surprised.

Horrified, yes. Sickened, absolutely. But surprised? No. And I hate that. I hate that stories like this have become familiar enough for my reaction to be recognition. Another woman describing violence. Another institution facing questions about its response. Another public argument about whether women’s anger is reasonable, excessive or unfair to men.

We should be asking how we reached a point where any of this feels familiar.

Instead, so often, we end up hearing “not all men”.

I know that every man is not a rapist. Women know that. Repeating it does nothing to answer the fear these stories create. It does nothing to help us identify who is safe, who will respect a boundary, who will intervene, or who will laugh along with something degrading because challenging a friend would be uncomfortable.

That is what “all men until it is no man” means to me. We cannot know in advance which man will hurt us, which will look away, and which will help. Until that uncertainty changes, asking women to put down their caution is asking us to carry a risk that other people would rather not think about.

And I am angry about how much of our lives that uncertainty occupies.

The text to say we got home. The friend watching our drink. The calculation about whether rejecting someone directly will make him aggressive. The decision to smile, soften our voice or invent a boyfriend because a simple “no” might not be enough.

These are ordinary habits for so many women. We learn them early. We pass them on to one another. Then we are told we are paranoid, unfair or too quick to generalise when we explain why we need them.

What makes this case so upsetting is also the reported group-chat behaviour. The thought of a woman’s vulnerability becoming something to discuss casually among friends is devastating. It raises questions about the people who receive those messages: what they accept, what they challenge, and what they allow to become normal.

Men have choices in those moments. They can challenge the friend who treats women as objects. They can stop laughing at the joke. They can take a woman’s discomfort seriously. They can intervene before a situation becomes a story everyone claims to be horrified by afterwards.

I want that responsibility to matter as much as the demand that women acknowledge the existence of good men.

I am tired of women being expected to make our anger reassuring. To explain our fear gently. To leave enough room in every conversation for men to feel individually absolved.

Right now, I am angry. I am angry about the allegations in this case, about the questions surrounding the response, and about how quickly the discussion can drift away from the woman at its centre.

But underneath that anger is grief: for what she describes enduring, and for the familiarity of the fear it brings up.

I want a story like this to feel unimaginable. I want to be shocked because it is so far outside what women have come to expect.

The fact that I cannot honestly say I was surprised is what breaks my heart.

I am SICK of the media referring to this as “Cornell 7” so say their names. Name and shame these men who have ruined this poor girls life (she remains unnamed). Matthew Ingalls, Johnathan Newell, Winston Lee, Gillio Lopes, Diego Sarabia, Scott Norris and Scott Kretzschmar.

I was sat today in a class for gender and politics surrounded by 14 other women who are deeply hurt by what has happened, but not a single shocked face in the room. Girls who were unaware of what happened didn’t even seem phased at what they had just heard. It sickens me, it angers me, it upsets me. To still have to have the same conversations about women’s safety. We’re all told, “girls cover your drink” “girls don’t walk home alone at night” what about we start shouting “MEN STOP ASSAULTING US.”

I know today took a very dark turn. But we need to start addressing these serious, all to familiar crimes around us.

Let me know what you think and I’ll see you in the next one

Eva :)