Title IX and the Rapists It Protects

Update: Refiled

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I’m gonna tell ya a lovely fuckin fairy tale about college, friends, and rape.

Long, long ago in a far away land….

Ha, that’s a good one! It’s actually you and me and right this moment.

The evil overlords’ ruling:

.

What I actually said:

OCR is supposed to enforce Title IX and impose sanctions when schools fuck it up. This is them in action. They didn’t even bother to address the fact that I’m disabled by the PTSD from having lived through this crap–a disability that’s been verified by the government since I receive Medicaid. Having a health condition that causes depression so bad it makes you want to die apparently isn’t a good enough reason to grant a waiver. Inability to file due to not being able to tolerate the process. Medical reasons. They don’t accept that. You get out of jury duty for that, but apparently OCR is holier than thou.

Who is this meant to help? The victim, or the school and the rapist?

I Must Not Tell Lies

Links
The Point
The Damage
How You Can Help
Updates
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The Point

Dolores Umbridge: “You know, I really do hate children.”

Some people justify the damage they cause with the results they produce. Ends justifies means, it’s called. God save your soul if you’re part of their plan. They’ll tell you that suffering is a part of life, so suck it up and be grateful that it wasn’t worse.

Some people won’t even acknowledge the damage as damage.

That is how U.S. colleges justify ignoring Title IX to screw over students who are raped on their campuses.

That is how Carnegie Mellon justified denying me any accommodations to cope with the PTSD that they caused me from doing exactly that. That is how they justified continually worsening it over the past four years to the point that I have now been declared disabled and require a service dog just to leave my house.

Shush

[16 may 2020: originally this had no names or identifiers at all. my cunthole parents are about to kill me over this because i “deserved it” and their abuse is such that the life insurance and moldy hoarding means far more to them than my life ever did. they’ve evicting me because i won’t shut up about their sexual abuse. they’ve got that in common with carnegie mellon. name additions are in [] brackets. i updated most of this but not all of the final section]

Sections:

Intro
The Assault
Driven Out
Suspended
Updates
20150227: The rest of the story–>.

Getting that creeped out feeling?

Intro

“Shh. Someone might hear. Don’t talk about that.”

This has several purposes. One is so that people stop asking, “What happened that year, why was it so bad?” Another is because there is no reason to shush this—discussion is even discouraged at the personal level, as if this was some kind of blackmail people would have on me. [That’s what my cunthole parents treat it as.] To demand reporting but hush up conversation of it, to dismiss its effects? No, that’s contradictory. Thus, this is public because things aren’t personally acceptable until the idea that the topic is shameworthy—and therefore useful as blackmail—is removed.

The final purpose is that I want answers.

I should state that I’m obviously going to be discussing topics generally avoided in even personal conversations. How badly do you want to know? Enough to override the conventional social judgment that some things shouldn’t be discussed? That people shouldn’t be allowed to control their own personal information, to decide what to talk about when it’s their own lives they’re discussing? Nobody else is identified [that was a bad choice jfc], so the assholes discussed herein are free to continue insisting upon whatever twisted version of events they have chosen. You can always stop reading, you know…but what if my problem is your problem, what if it’s the same kind of problem someone you care about has? Wouldn’t you want to talk about that, wouldn’t you want to know, so they can get help? [haha no one helps, that’s a pleasant societal fiction] So that you could get help?

If you’re in the category of people who asked for such personal information—you did ask, right, or do you not really care about the answer? And if you don’t care, why ask such a personal question?

I have a dirty little secret. You probably have one just like it. Want to trade?