Title IX didn’t save me.

Graphic by Zach Perrier.

Bri Becerra

Editor-in-Chief

As my time as a Wooster student draws to a close, I have begun to reflect on my experiences here. Recently, I was rudely reminded of one of the worst times of my life through a simple LinkedIn connection request, drawing up resentful feelings that I have been sitting on for a couple of years.

As a sophomore, I filed a Title IX incident report against a teammate. This teammate was a senior. Filing an official report was something that I was on the fence about, but student athletes receive yearly Title IX training encouraging us to do so if something were to ever happen to us.

With the support of several senior teammates who signed on as witnesses, I submitted my report and waited. This was in mid-February, and I did not receive any sort of response until after spring break at the end of March. I understand that the Title IX office is busy and restricted by bureaucratic procedures, but I was an underclassman who was nervous to see this teammate at practice every single day. The silence was deafening.

I was eventually able to get a meeting with the interim Title IX coordinator, and another teammate came with me to offer support and back up my story. I felt good about the meeting, as the coordinator promised that he would reach out to my coaches and the situation would be handled. It seemed like a resolution was finally near.

But nothing happened. Not a word was said to me from my coaches. I had to continue to practice on the same team and in the same space as the perpetrator. This led to my complete withdrawal from my social life and team activities, as I simply could not handle being near the person who had violated me. I watched my friends through photos on my phone as they made memories together on the weekends, and I was too busy being paralyzed by my own fear of having another run-in with my perpetrator.

The person who committed the offenses against me went on to compete at nationals for track that year, and he is remembered as an All-American athlete at the College. Though I cannot confirm whether or not my coaches ever spoke to him, it appears that there was never a single consequence or conversation about his behavior. He simply got away with it. 

What message does this lack of action send to young, vulnerable college students? How was I supposed to process this as a 19-year-old student athlete who was competing on a team with the person who had both verbally and physically assaulted me?

I have spent the past two years feeling like my experience and my trauma did not matter. I’m not as talented athletically as my perpetrator, and the lack of action taken against him has reminded me of how untouchable white male athletes are. I understand that removing him from the team could have been considered “retaliation” under Title IX, but an apology, separating us during practice and support from my coaches would have been better than nothing.

I did not discuss my situation with the athletic director or coaches during that semester, as the Title IX coordinator promised to be the intermediary and relay the information to them. I didn’t bother to pursue justice in the years that followed because the perpetrator had graduated. But now when I look back at it, I’m angry. I’m angry at the way that I was treated and angry on the behalf of anyone else who has filed a Title IX report just to feel neglected. 

My report had witnesses who were willing to testify to what they saw and heard. My report was addressed by the Title IX office and they insisted that it would be handled by my coaches. But the buck stopped there. Why should it have been my responsibility to fight tooth and nail to feel safe on my own team?

I hadn’t forgotten about this situation, as it has lingered in the back of my mind over the past two years. But once I received a LinkedIn connection request from the perpetrator this past week, all of the memories came flashing back. The nervousness to file a report in the first place, the terror of running into this person on campus and the absolute feeling of rejection and disrespect that came when my coaches were silent. It returned with a force strong enough to mold into anger and resentment.

It is my own responsibility to seek avenues of healing for this anger and trauma, but I am not willing to do that in silence. I don’t expect anything to be done about what happened to me, but those who come after me deserve better treatment by a system that is meant to protect us.