Our universities should be doing more to address sexual violence
One in 10 of women on campus are sexually assaulted during the academic year. Our university’s answer is sexual assault awareness modules and a court hearing that lasts two years.
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On September 14th, a former student at Cornell University filed a lawsuit against the university and the Chi Phi fraternity, alleging she was drugged and raped at the fraternity house by seven of its members in October 2024. The accused were offered the chance to rectify their actions by submitting reflective essays about their actions—the complainant alleged that Cornell’s response was an institutional failure. However, nothing has been proven in court, and Cornell has declined to comment on the litigation.
We all know how the news algorithm treats stories like this: within a few weeks, the case will disappear from the news and so will peoples’ attention. As this case, and countless others, become just another headline, what will remain it its wake is the systemic rape culture within our academic institutions. The question the Cornell University’s case raises is not uniquely “American.” It points towards an uncomfortable question of whether universities treat sexual violence as something students should be taught to avoid or something institutions must systemically answer.
Every September, the University of Toronto (U of T) welcomes thousands of first-year students to orientation—a week-long worth of events designed to introduce students to campus resources, what their academic journeys hold, and future classmates and friends. During this time, orientation leaders, volunteers, campus staff, faculty, and students are urged to complete a mandatory online module: Building a Culture of Consent at the University of Toronto, developed and offered by the Sexual Violence Prevention and Support (SVPS) Centre. This module is designed to educate individuals on how to foster a culture of consent, healthy boundaries, and effective communication.
According to U of T’s 2024-25 report on activity, the SVPS Centre reached more than 5,000 incoming students and its education programming reached 17,448 people over the year. As we settle into a new academic year, the educational support offered by the SVPS Centre remains research-driven, professional, and well-meaning: know the signs, know how to intervene, and where to report an incidence of sexual violence. The message beneath it is simpler: your safety is your job.
Statistics Canada’s most recent national survey of postsecondary students, conducted in 2019, shows that in a year, one in 10 women on campus—or around 11 percent—experience sexual assault in a postsecondary setting, and 15 percent at some point during their studies. Fewer than one in 10 survivors of sexual assault reported to anyone connected to their school. Half of them did not know their university’s procedure for handling a report, and awareness was lowest among first-year students— the group orientation is built for. Among the women who have been assaulted, 60 percent said they became more cautious afterwards, 18 percent avoided specific buildings at school, and nine percent stopped going to some of their classes. That is what vigilance looks like, when it is the only tool a student is given.
But the onus to handle and process a incidence of sexual assault does not and should not fall on individual students and community members alone. Our universities has a job, too, and it is written in the Policy on Sexual Violence and Sexual Harassment, which took effect in Junuary 1, 2026. This Policy promises to conclude cases of assault within 12 months, however, the same policy exempts Code of Student Conduct hearings—which are formal, non-academic disciplinary proceedings overseen by an appointed Hearing Officer—from that deadline.
This is not the first time our university’s sexual violence case processing duration or its overall institutional response have come under criticism for being long and drawn out—a process which may leave many survivors feeling uncertain and confused during an already difficult period of their studies. The 2022 review of the Policy on Sexual Violence and Sexual Harassment recommended “increased institutional accountability” through robust annual reporting. The 2025 review added recommended timeline and reprisal protections. Each review has produced more reporting and more processes. The question is what story do these reports tell about the experiences of survivors on our campuses. What does U of T’s own reports actually show?
I believe these reports show a funnel. In the 2024-25 academic year, the SVPS Centre received 208 disclosures. 50 became reports. The university closed 35 cases; 19 were investigated, nine were resolved through a facilitated process, and seven did not proceed. Of the 19 investigated, three went to a hearing. These hearings took a median of 23 months. Because a breach of policy by a student can only be found at hearing, 16 of those 19 cases closed with no finding either way. On top of this, the year’s outcome for student respondents included 16 no contact orders, nine training assignments, two reprimands, one suspension and no expulsion. From the 208 people who disclosed an incident of sexual violence, one suspension was confirmed.
There are fair objections to reading the numbers this way, and they deserve to be stated in full strength. The first is procedural fairness. The policy owes a respondent the right to know the allegations, to answer them, and to make an impartial decision, and the university cannot suspend or expel students without that process. A low number of sanctions may mean allegations were not proven and not necessarily that the university looked away.
We should also consider the improvements U of T is making: last year, closed cases more than doubled, and median time to a facilitated agreement fell from nearly 12 months to under five. In addition to these numbers, the new policy also expands the definition of reprisal to better protect those who disclose an assault, while also updating the terms of cyber sexual violence, a growing and often overlooked for of violence within our communities.
Both of these objections are true and important indicators of how far our institutions have come historically, but none of them address the problem. Fairness explains why case processing times are slow. It does not explain why the policy exempts hearing from any timeline at all or why the system is designed so that its most common outcome is no outcome. Autonomy is real, but in my opinion, a choice between a facilitated resolution now and a hearing that takes two years is not a free choice—it is a choice the system has already made for you.
Treating sexual violence as an institutional problem rather than an individual one does not require a new policy. It requires the existing one to apply to the institution. I believe that changes to how the university structures and communicates information about processes and procedures should change to reflect a response that sexual violence is a institutional responsibility, a response that dignifies the experiences and voices of survivors. For example, the 12-month target to hearings promise should be applied to cases involving students, or, at the very least, explain why it cannot be applied to student hearings.
In addition, I believe the university should improve how it communicates to the student body: sexual violence reports or breakdowns should be campus-specific rather than handled as a tri-campus total. It is also cruicial—for the sake of transparency and institutional acountability—to have each annual report explain why cases close without a finding. Resourcing the SVPS Centre at University of Toronto Mississauga (UTM) as a full office rather than an extension of the one in downtown also goes a long way in supporting students. None of these changes would ask U of T to do anything it has not already promised.
The Cornell University lawsuit will be settled or dismissed, and in either case, potentially forgotten. If the allegations about the essays are true, those essays will have been written and filed. What outlasts all of this is the process that made the consequences an acceptable answer. Students did not build the culture of sexual violence they are told to navigate. The institution did, and therefore, it is the only party with the power to change it.
As much as I believe individual students should foster a campus free of sexual violence—whether that’s through online modules, providing peer support to their friends, or learning how to file a report—the university’s power and responsibility to implement structural change should never be outsourced to individual good-faith actors. At the end, students must absorb the consequences of institutional inaction or stagnation—therefore, we must demand better.
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