By Claudia Gerry Social Work & Gender, Women’s and Sexuality Studies Major, Student Staff Member

Forward

This literature review was my final paper for Dr. Maria Celleri’s Methodologies in Gender, Women’s, and Sexuality Studies (GWST 300) course. I feel that this topic heavily applies to the work the Women’s, Gender, and Equity Center does. As a student staff member, I see how Title IX fails survivors, I see how it hurts survivors, and I see how it makes survivors’ lives just that much harder. I plan to continue this research and present it at URCAD 2027 in order to advocate for change not only on our UMBC campus but across the United States. So… here is a sneak peek!

Introduction

Sexual misconduct is a major problem everywhere, but specifically on college campuses. Sexual assault is defined as any form of unconsensual and unwanted sexual contact, which can include physical contact or sexual coercion (Holland & Cipriano, 2021). Sexual harassment within education is defined as behaviors sexual in nature that are “sufficiently severe, persistent, or pervasive to limit a student’s ability to participate in or benefit from the education program, or to create a hostile or abusive educational environment” (Holland & Howard Valdivia, 2026). Women and LGBTQ+ undergraduate students face the greatest risk of enduring sexual misconduct (Holland & Cipriano, 2021). Those who experience sexual assault often endure many mental health challenges and harms to their education (Holland & Cipriano, 2021), especially if they do not utilize support resources. The campus climate can foster barriers for survivors using these resources. Many survivors feel a minimization of sexual assault, fear of negative treatment, and have social-emotional concerns (Holland & Cipriano, 2021). Awareness of sexual violence is rooted in the second-wave feminist movement. But, this awareness mostly focused on the voices of white, well-educated women. There is a persistent struggle to understand the intersectionality of sexual assault (Jessup-Anger et al., 2018), even though this issue can affect every identity. This Literature review addresses how the implementation of Title IX policies affects survivors of sexual violence within higher education systems in the United States. To begin to understand this, we must know what Title IX is and how it has been implemented through time.

What is Title IX?

Title IX was passed in 1973 as part of the education amendments and is a civil rights law (Kaufman & Nelson, 2025). The main focus of this law is to prohibit sex-based discrimination in educational settings funded by the federal government (Kaufman & Nelson, 2025). Originally, the focus was set on inequality in admissions and educational opportunities, but the scope has widened since then (Kaufman & Nelson, 2025). Title IX has been used to increase access to women’s sports and require educational institutions to address sexual harassment and violence (Kaufman & Nelson, 2025). At the surface level, this law seems to help survivors of sexual assault, but in reality, it often harms the survivor more than it helps. 

Every institution’s Title IX policies vary due to different levels of staffing, budget, and number of support and advocacy services. One uniform requirement across all institutions is the requirement of at least one Title IX coordinator, no matter the institution’s size (Kaufman & Nelson, 2025). The Title IX coordinator is located within the Title IX office, which at most universities is housed under the institution’s Equity and Civil Rights department. 

The applications of Title IX have changed numerous times through new legislation, Office of Civil Rights (OCR) guidance, and presidential letters called Dear Colleague Letters (DCL). In 1980, Alexander v. Yale argued that sexual harassment in educational institutions constitutes sex-based discrimination under Title IX (Holland & Howard Valdivia, 2026) and is still the precedent today. The main acts passed that affect Title IX are: 1990 Clery Act, 1992 Campus Sexual Assault Victim’s Bill of Rights, 1994 Violence Against Women Act, and 2013 Campus SaVE Act. These acts mainly attempt to address funding for survivor services, requirements for prevention training, and public disclosure of crime rates. 

What really affects Title IX implementation the most are DCLs. In 2011, the Obama-era DCL was released. The Obama DCL called attention to the issue of sexual violence on college campuses, reminded Higher Education Institutions (HEIs) of Title IX guidelines, and added additional recommendations. This letter classified sexual violence under the umbrella of sex discrimination under Title IX, lowered investigatory standards of proof,  and made it legal to withhold funds from HEIs for not complying (Kaufman & Nelson, 2025). In 2017, the  Donald Trump era DCL was released and focused heavily on concerns for the (rights of the) accused (Holland & Howard Valdivia, 2026). The Trump DCL withdrew the Obama DCL and announced new regulations. The main changes were changes in definitions of sexual violence, limited the scope of what HEIs are required to address, added more requirements for formal adjudication, and emphasized the rights of respondents over the well-being of survivors (Webermann et al., 2023). In 2024, the Title IX regulations were changed once again by Joe Biden’s administration. These regulations expanded the scope of conduct covered under the policy and for the most part were similar to 2020 but gave HEIs more discretion (Holland & Howard Valdivia, 2026). Today, we are under the 2025 DCL. This DCL edits the 2024 regulations to include that HEIs “must continue to comply with the 2020 Title IX regulations and operate under the presumption of (inaccurate) binary, biological sex” (Holland & Howard Valdivia, 2026). Overall, Title IX policies have been said to be a political football being passed around and changed with every administration. This makes Title IX regulations hard to understand for the average person. So, not everyone understands their rights and what is expected of their institutions.

Title IX in Action

A theoretical framework to understand the importance of survivors’ interactions with the Title IX Office is the theory of institutional betrayal. Both Webermann et al. (2023) and Holland and Cipriano (2021) use this framework to understand the effects of Title IX on survivors. Institutional betrayal shows the unique ways institutions can harm marginalized groups and “conceptualizes wrongdoings perpetrated by an institution when people are dependent upon the institution and can expect that it will protect its members from harm and will respond appropriately if harm is endured” (Holland & Cipriano, 2021). Students expect their institutions to take steps to restore their access to education, but when the institution fails to do so, there can be negative consequences that can include erosion of trust and belonging at the institution (Holland & Cipriano, 2021). Failures of the institution can be: failure to prevent abuse, normalizing of abusive contexts, difficult reporting procedures, inadequate responses to reports, cover-ups, misinformation, and punishing survivors (Webermann et al., 2023). Survivors who experience institutional betrayal report increased levels of psychological harm (Holland & Cipriano, 2021).Title IX overall affects survivors negatively. 

First, Title IX cases are supposed to take up to 60 days to be resolved, but the average length of cases in Webermann’s study is 175.36 days (Webermann et al., 2023).  Many institutions elect to have the minimum number of coordinators- one. Staffing levels in the Title IX office affect how long cases may take (Kaufman & Nelson, 2025), so many institutions’ Title IX offices are not staffed enough for every case to be resolved within the 60-day timeframe. Many survivors see major variability in the transparency of their case. Some survivors receive multiple updates and reassurances about their case, while others get little to none (Holland & Cipriano, 2021). According to Holland and Cipriano (2021), “Recent research has found that the majority of sexual assault reports to Title IX Offices do not result in formal investigations and, of those that are investigated, there is rarely a finding of ‘responsibility’”.  Many survivors believe that the length of their case affected the outcomes. For example, witnesses may forget parts of their story over time or the respondent might leave the institution before disciplinary action is taken (Webermann et al., 2023). 

Second, many survivors report negative treatment from the Title IX office. This negative treatment can include victim-blaming, name-calling, stalling of cases, and being told the institution can do nothing about the case. Holland and Cortina (2017a) found that of the three main support systems they examined (Title IX office, sexual assault center, and housing staff), the Title IX office was not utilized by survivors because of  “negative emotions, consequences, contextual characteristics, minimization of behaviors, and alternative coping strategies”. According to Holland and Cipriano (2021), negative reactions to sexual assault disclosures can cause significant psychological harm for survivors.

Third, many survivors experience barriers in receiving support. Kaufman and Nelson (2025) found that “Too often, survivors of sexual assault do not know where to turn and do not receive the support they need despite the seemingly ‘robust’ federal legislation that seeks to address campus sexual violence”. Many survivors deliberately avoid the Title IX office due to fears of poor treatment (Holland & Cipriano, 2021). Within Webermann et al.’s (2023) study, many participants felt unclear about the Title IX reporting process and their options. 

Survivors are expected to retell the worst moments of their lives numerous times, reliving it every. single. time. According to Webermann et al. (2023), the survivors in their study had to tell their stories to 2.88 different offices/individuals, not including formal grievance procedures or court procedures. If a survivor wants to make a report and seek justice, they are put in more harm. To help themselves, they have to harm themselves. “It was not just the outcome of their case that caused harm but also the process itself”(Webermann et al., 2023).

Future Steps

Due to all these reasons listed above, survivors are discouraged from standing up for themselves. Working at the Women’s, Gender, and Equity Center (WGEC) has shown me how Title IX  actually operates in real life. In my personal experience, the system has failed survivors. Many survivors seek support from the WGEC, as we are a confidential space, and they do not want to bother with reporting to the UMBC Title IX office. The reasons I have heard are: knowing how the office treats other survivors, knowing how many times they will have to relive what they have gone through, concerns over social circumstances, minimization of what happened to them, and many more. With the perpetual changing of guidelines, many survivors do not understand what their institution can do for them anymore, making them give up and move on. At many institutions, there are requirements for mandatory reporting, where staff and faculty are required to report sexual misconduct disclosures to the Title IX office. Many staff and faculty are in the same boat of confusion about what the guidelines are, leading individual reporters to either report too much or too little. In my experience, professors are not trained on what is to be reported and what happens to the student after a report is filed. This leaves students cautious about talking about their experiences in fear of being non-consensually reported.

Many changes need to be made in order to ensure the success of survivors. First, there needs to be an implementation of an oversight committee to ensure the Title IX office acts swiftly, equitably and with accountability (Holland & Cipriano, 2021). This committee could also oversee trauma-informed training for Title IX Office staff and mandated reporters. “Using formal supports that are trauma-informed and survivor-centered can promote psychological well-being for survivors” (Holland & Cipriano, 2021). Second, there needs to be an effort to address the root cause of sexual violence instead of focusing on the aftereffects. “Although most universities comply with Title IX, many side-step confronting the root causes of normalized sexual violence and avoid teaching the realities of campus sexual violence, leaving students confused, isolated, and unsure of how to address the trauma that they or their friends experience”(Kaufman & Nelson, 2025). Third, to address institutional betrayal, we must flip it to institutional support. This can include “supportive responses from individuals within institutions to survivors, such as believing them, apologizing for their experiences, connecting them with resources, and providing autonomy in what happens after reporting”(Webermann et al., 2023). Lastly, frontline workers within the survivor support services need more say in the implementation of Title IX. “Oftentimes, frontline workers, such as victim advocates, are absent from the policy table, yet this article underscores the importance of their positionality and experiences for addressing vulnerabilities in the campus sexual violence intervention system”(Wies, 2015). 

 Conclusion

Ultimately, under the system we have set in place, Title IX is failing survivors of sexual violence in HEIs in the United States. Survivors are expected to advocate for themselves when their words have been ignored in the past. The Title IX office worries too much about getting sued by the respondent to bring justice for the survivor. Survivors experience major mental health and educational challenges even though Title IX is supposed to ensure equal access to education. If a survivor reports their institution for violation of Title IX policy, the report can take years to process, so Title IX offices are not held accountable. This is why we need to change the policy ONE last time. Modifying Title IX every few years only causes more confusion. We need to support survivors. Survivors need to feel supported, seen, and heard by their institutions.

References

Brubaker, S. J., Keegan, B., Guadalupe-Diaz, X. L., & Beasley, B. (2017). Measuring and reporting campus sexual assault: Privilege and exclusion in what we know and what we do. Sociology Compass, 11(12), e12543. https://doi.org/10.1111/soc4.12543

Holland, K. J., & Cipriano, A. E. (2021). Does a report = support? A qualitative analysis of college sexual assault survivors’ Title IX Office knowledge, perceptions, and experiences. Analyses of Social Issues and Public Policy, 21(1), 1054–1081. https://doi.org/10.1111/asap.12271

Holland, K. J., & Cortina, L. M. (2017a). “It Happens to Girls All the Time”: Examining Sexual Assault Survivors’ Reasons for Not Using Campus Supports. American Journal of Community Psychology, 59(1-2), 50–64. https://doi.org/10.1002/ajcp.12126

Holland, K. J., & Cortina, L. M. (2017b). The evolving landscape of Title IX: Predicting mandatory reporters’ responses to sexual assault disclosures. Law and Human Behavior, 41(5), 429–439. https://doi.org/10.1037/lhb0000253

Holland, K. J., & Howard Valdivia, R. L. (2026). Title IX and Sexual Violence in Higher Education: A Mapping Review and Assessment of Policy Implementation and Effectiveness. The Journal of Sex Research, 1–19. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224499.2026.2623649

Jessup-Anger, J., Lopez, E., & Koss, M. P. (2018). History of Sexual Violence in Higher Education. New Directions for Student Services, 2018(161), 9–19. https://doi.org/10.1002/ss.20249

Kaufman, S. B.-S., & Nelson, L. (2025). Interpreting title IX: A feminist legal geography of sexual assault prevention on U.S. college campuses. Political Geography, 116(5), 103252. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.polgeo.2024.103252

Webermann, A. R., Holland, K. J., & Murphy, C. M. (2023). Student Experiences Reporting Sexual and Gender-Based Misconduct to the Title IX Office at a Public State University. Violence against Women, 30(6-7), 107780122211502. https://doi.org/10.1177/10778012221150274

Wies, J. R. (2015). Title IX and the State of Campus Sexual Violence in the United States: Power, Policy, and Local Bodies. Human Organization, 74(3), 276–286. https://doi.org/10.17730/0018-7259-74.3.276

By: Bekkah West, Social Work Major & WGEC Intern, Psychology Minor

Growing up, I did not understand the gravity of how symbols of hate could tangibly impact a person; how they justify violence, hostility, stigma, and prejudice. You can attribute that to my ignorance, privilege, the developing brain, social conditioning, the predominantly white, rural, and conservative area I grew up in. Whatever the root may be, what is important is that I do now (and have for some time) grasp how crucial it is to not just spout promises of inclusivity and diversity, but to do your best to prove it in action through various means, like through curating a culturally responsive physical environment or following through on committing to advocating for those who are marginalized—or at the very least, not putting them in harm’s way. I fear we as an institution are failing the LGBTQIA2S+ population we serve and our value of inclusive excellence by allowing private corporations such as Chick-fil-A to establish ground here and profit off our student body who may have to compromise their morals and/or sense of safety for an edible meal. It is not “just about chicken” and it is quite literally that deep; or perhaps only as deep as people feel comfortable exploring themselves, their values, and living them fully. 

To give a little background for those who may not know, along with over a dozen employment discrimination filings between 1988 and 2007, Chick-fil-A has a long and extensive history opposing gay marriage, publicly denying the validity of the LGBTQIA2S+ community, and donating millions to various organizations set on endangering this population by denying them their human rights and legal protections. Such organizations include the American Family Association (AFA), the Family Research Council (FRC), Exodus International, the Salvation Army, and the Marriage & Family Foundation. The company attempts to conceal their heterosexist views and intentions through the veil of conservative, Christian principles. CEO, Dan Cathy incited protests in 2012 nationwide for encouraging the “biblical definition of the family unit.” It was not until around seven to eight years later that the bad press and pressure would fold Cathy, at least in part, with him officially announcing his discontinuation of donations to organizations with “political agendas.” 

In all reality, Dan Cathy just stopped publicly donating to hateful organizations and instead created a private arm of Chick-fil-A, “WinShape”, where he donates to others such as the National Christian Charitable Foundation, who actively opposes the Equality Act, which could amend the current laws to protect LGBTQIA2S+ individuals from discrimination based on how they identify or what their sexual orientation may be. This was only discovered after financial reports were released, and Chick-fil-A and its affiliates appear to continue to dodge any real answers to questioning on these deceitful means of abating public disapproval. Without this as public of an issue as it once was, people may not know that they are still giving their money to a company that has every intention of investing in the devaluing and oppression of the LGBTQIA2S+ community. This is where you, like I once did in my teens, may be thinking to yourself that your individual contribution could not possibly make a difference in the grand scheme of things. This is also where I was, and you very well could be, perpetrating harm unintentionally, in complacency. Just as we see, at times, in our country’s voting process, or in action and lack of consistent progress toward any other pertinent social issue that does not typically impact the majority and/or one directly. 

This shortfall in collective action by our campus community can mean Chick-fil-A’s presence on campus leaves some LGBTQIA2S+ students feeling rejected, unsafe, and/or at the very least, uncomfortable. This company is a national symbol of violent discrimination, conversion therapy, trauma, abandonment, and anti-LGBTQIA2S+ rhetoric. Their existence says to LGBTQIA2S+ community members that you are never fully protected or accepted here, in this world, even with offices set up specifically for your population on the exact same campus. It says, a chicken sandwich holds more weight to this institution than the rights and sentiments of the LGBTQIA2S+ students, staff, faculty, and allies on this campus. How can one feel comfortable expressing their true selves fully, with safety and dignity, on a campus that would proudly set such an establishment up—one that vehemently denies their right to exist and love as they please? To overlook this would go against much of what UMBC’s mission and vision is. 

This discussion cannot be had without the acknowledgement that 1) there is no entirely ethical consumption under capitalism and 2) there are people of low-SES who may not have a choice between eating what is available and choosing something more ethical. It is a privilege to be able to consume ethically nowadays. That said, there are ways of minimizing harm that we should all try our best to accomplish. There are many different on- and off- campus options outside of Chick-fil-A, and many potential opportunities to partner with new companies, local and otherwise, of equal or lesser cost to the institution. Redirecting funds to finding other non-discriminatory options and the university upholding its statements on inclusion and social justice is possible, shown through many other college campus experiences across the country, and even here in Maryland, such as at St. Mary’s College. We should hold our partners to the same standards we hold ourselves and our community. 

There are many ways we can come together as a community to resolve this issue, and I encourage fellow students at UMBC to think about and engage in these ways, if possible. Organizing a campus forum, where students, staff, faculty, dining services, and other administrators can make their voices heard would be valuable. Petitions could be started to collect signatures for the partnership to be discontinued. The Student Government Association could potentially get involved, structuring this in a way that is sound and getting people together in a concentrated effort. Educating each other on the dishonest and harmful background of Chick-fil-A is crucial, as well, even if it can be uncomfortable—your cisgender and heterosexual peers will never know what it is like to have to worry about being and/or feeling victimized in this way. 

I am making a call for action not just as an advocate to the LGBTQIA2S+ community or because it is the right thing to do, but as an identifying member myself. We should follow in former Washington D.C. mayor Vincent C. Gray’s footsteps, letting Chick-fil-A know it is not welcome in our city, dubbing it “hate chicken.” Do not get me wrong, I do not think poorly of the students and staff who work hard every day to serve students food at Chick-fil-A here on campus, as they may just need the income, location, and a schedule that works for them. There are larger powers at play here who are more responsible for creating an inclusive and socially just environment for said people to work within. What I believe was part of my responsibility was to bring attention to this issue, firstly, and now to observe how my community will move with me from here. Similar attitudes have been shared with me on campus in the last year and a half I have been here, and I am grateful to have a platform to bring light to such concerns.

-By Amy Taylor, Social Work/Music Major

Humans are wired for belonging. We crave connection, shared purpose, and safety within groups. But not every group that promises community delivers it. Some take that longing and twist it into control. It often happens slowly, without people inside the group noticing. Nobody is immune to these organizations because they prey on people who are going through any sort of life change or who feel alone. As a college student, being away from family and friends for the first time can make one vulnerable to groups that offer “instant community.” College is a time when many students are rebuilding their sense of belonging from scratch, which makes it both exciting and vulnerable terrain.

Born Into Control

I learned about community and control during my earliest years, primarily through what community was not. I was born into a family of eight kids, the third-born and oldest girl. For the first 20 years of my life, my parents raised my siblings and me in a high-control organization (HCO). I knew nothing about a healthy community because the HCO dictated where we went to church, what type of education we received or did not, what we wore, what we did with our time and money, and who we would associate with. 

Identity and Expression

High-control organizations prescribe identities to their members, leaving little room for self-expression or discovery. As a child, I was forced to wear clothes I hated, such as long skirts (never pants) that swept the floor in length. My parents made sure that I was painfully modest, wearing baggy shirts that covered any indication that I was a woman, including my collarbone. At the large HCO conferences my family frequented, we had to wear white tops and long navy skirts. The message to me as a woman was clear: ‘cover up, sit down, shut up.’ I am thrilled to say that I overthrew their control, and today I enjoy putting outfits together that express who I am. I dress in vibrant colors and patterns, and even sport blue hair. These little things express my freedom as an individual; they bring me joy and, in a way, make up for lost time. I learned, through contrast, that true community embraces individual expression and differences. In a good community, you can be yourself, because conformity isn’t a value or a virtue.

Leadership and Power

In a healthy community, leadership styles are transparent, service-oriented, and accountable. High control organizations are authoritarian, hierarchical, and unquestionable. The leader of our HCO was not a musician, but he would put families on a pedestal if they were. They were treated with more respect and admiration than other members of the organization. Until they slipped up, of course, if one member of the family committed some faux pas, they were publicly shamed, shunned, and/or banished from the graces of the HCO. To this day, I don’t enjoy being placed on a pedestal for any reason, especially music. While I believe that music is a gift to be shared, I refuse to believe that I am ‘special’ because I’m a musician.

Information and Education

Access to information is, undeniably, a fundamental human right. In a healthy community, that right is expressed through open communication and transparency as well as access to all information. This was not my experience growing up in a high-control organization. All children were restricted to be “homeschooled” for all 12 grades and even beyond. I put the word homeschooled in quotation marks to avoid confusion. I did not receive a proper education. 

My days were spent absorbing propaganda released by the high-control organization. This propaganda was designed to distort our thinking by twisting history, science, or any other “school” subject into wild and wrong teachings for us to assimilate into our lives. When I wasn’t busy poring over propaganda, I was taught to read, write, and perform simple arithmetic. That’s all. When it came time for me to learn algebra, I didn’t understand what the book was telling me, and I went to my mother and asked to be placed in tutoring. Her response aligned with the HCO’s teaching; she ripped the book out of my hands and said, “One day you are going to be a wife and a mother; you don’t need to learn algebra.” At the age of thirty, I enrolled in community college, received some tutoring, and crushed four semesters of algebra, a fact that still makes me proud today. 

My mother’s censorship reached into what we read as well as what we watched. Each book that entered our house had to be approved by both my parents and the high-control organization. Once, I was given a Molly American Girl Doll book. My parents declared it evil and threw it out the day I got it. Most books I wanted to read got thrown out. We were, instead, encouraged to read about Christian martyrs, all of them coated with the subtextual suggestion that I would perhaps one day face the same fate. While I hope most parents would protect their young children from witnessing violence in movies, my parents were obsessed with it. I was banned from watching Disney movies (I saw my first one at the age of 21), but I was encouraged to watch Christians being burned at the stake (because that might be me one day). My earliest memory of films is watching a movie about Dutch nazi resistor Corrie ten Boom and her time in a concentration camp – incredibly violent, and totally inappropriate for a six-year-old. Instead of having access to age-appropriate material for learning and growing, I was being inundated with frightening messages about what my future would hold. Fear is the glue that holds high-control organizations together.

In a high-control organization, information is controlled, restricted, or distorted in some way. It might not look exactly like my story. Still, censorship and the fear of information are a dark road meant to keep people ingesting pre-selected information while discouraging critical thinking.

Freedom of Thought

Freedom of thought is essential to healthy communities; these communities encourage questioning, critical thinking, and dialogue. In a high-control organization, doubt, dissent, or independent thinking is discouraged and even punished. Thinking for myself was considered dangerous because groupthink was the only acceptable way to exist in the high-control organization. As a Christian, I was heavily shamed for asking questions and threatened with ostracism from my church and the HCO. 

Leaving the Trap

That being said, my diaries were my place of refuge. I wrote endless questions in there, and I compared what I was experiencing in my family to other families or individuals I encountered. I felt safe writing in these diaries because no one ever read them. I was able to think critically about all my experiences, and even at the tender age of ten, I was aware that something in my little world wasn’t quite right. 

Often, people ask me, “How did you get out?” The answer starts with those diaries and a kids’ radio program that depicted children who liked being near their parents (shocker) because their parents were kind to them. I was afraid of my parents. To me, these programs were a stark contrast to the way I was being raised, and I started journaling, ‘Do I deserve to be treated better?’ Eventually, I came to the conclusion that my parents were never going to care for, protect, or provide for me the way I needed. When two of my brothers planned to move out, I moved out with them. 

Building True Community

The ramifications of leaving both the family and the high-control organization were daunting. I was threatened with excommunication, and while that was painful, it no longer felt like annihilation because I was ready to start creating a community of my own. Eventually, I learned through trial and error that the best communities are the ones you forge on your own, not pre-packaged ones that offer instant friendships, pre-made activities, and, eventually, a boatload of hidden rules and restrictions. Today my community is thriving. I have friends and family who are close to me; we stay in regular contact, and together we support each other through all of life’s ups and downs. I am open and friendly with many people, but I have a close circle of friends who are my ride-or-die. I’m thrilled that that circle of friends does not have a leader lording themselves over us. It feels good to be free.

What I’ve noticed about belonging and inclusion is that while high-control organizations accept people conditionally based on conformity and a twisted sense of loyalty, healthy communities base them on empathy, diversity, inclusion, and respect. Today, I get to choose the people in my circle. We laugh, cry, and grow together. There is no hierarchy, no hidden rules, no fear. Just connection. That’s what community should be.

Coming and Going

So if high-control organizations are so awful, why do people join? Answer? They don’t. No one wakes up one day and says, “I wanna join a cult” or “I want someone else to prescribe my identity” or “I want some leader to dictate everything I do.” People don’t willingly or naturally give up their freedoms. There are well-defined psychological, physical, emotional, and social manipulations that lure people into these organizations. In the beginning, it’s all very exciting because we think we’ve found our tribe.  Only time reveals the trap: HCOs want to use you and discard you. When it comes to exits and boundaries, an HCO will leave you feeling discouraged, shamed, or punished. Sometimes, the threat of losing everyone in the group is a powerful manipulation to make you stay. However, healthy groups allow people to leave freely without stigma or threats.

What About You?

College is often a time of transition, self-discovery, and searching for belonging. You might meet groups that promise friendship, meaning, grandiose purpose, and “instant community,” but it’s important to pause and think critically. Healthy communities celebrate your individuality, encourage your questions, and let you come and go freely. High-control organizations, on the other hand, disguise control as care and conformity as commitment. Before giving away your trust, ask yourself: Can I be fully myself here? Can I speak up, disagree, or walk away without fear or shame? If the answer is no, then it’s not a tribe, it’s a trap. You deserve relationships and spaces where your freedom, curiosity, and identity are safe. True community doesn’t require you to shrink, it helps you grow. In the end, the difference between a tribe and a trap is freedom – the freedom to think, to question, to express, and to leave. True community doesn’t demand your loyalty; it earns your trust and your love.

If you are caught up in a high-control organization, remember there is hope, help, and resources on the other side. There are many people (including me) waiting to support and encourage you on your journey to find a healthy community. Leaving is hard; it’s easy to feel really alone, especially if your family or close friends stay in the HCO. But I’d encourage you to remember that your journey is just starting. The world is full of many people waiting to connect with you. Get some support, tell your story, and stay free.

Resources

International Cultic Studies Association https://www.icsahome.com/

Freedom of Mind Resource Center (founded by Steven Hassan, cult expert and former member of the Moonies)

 freedomofmind.com

The Open Minds Foundation

openmindsfoundation.org

Focuses on education and awareness about undue influence, manipulation, and coercive control.

By: Ashwathi Menon, Bioinformatics & Public Health Major

When I first entered the world of neuroscience lab work, science seemed to be all about being objective: clean lines, sharp corners, and no emotion involved whatsoever. It all seemed to point to the notion that too much emotion clouds one’s vision; you didn’t want emotion near your microscope. But as I stood at my lab bench operating my RT-PCRs on rat hypothalamus samples, it hit me just how much emotion was already infused into everything we did. It takes patience to accurately pipette one perfect microliter of liquid. It takes collaboration to run repeated tests. It takes the knowledge and obligation to know your own scientific pursuits may one day impact an individual’s life; the entire point being care is not the opposite of science but its pulse instead.

This is not something one can read in books or lectures. It is something my grandmother taught me: my Achamma. She suffered from a stroke just over a year ago, and since then, I have been assisting my family with her care. Watching her relearn to move her arm or to pronounce a few words sparked my own interest in the same paths inside her mind because these paths looked just like what we discussed and viewed in class, but instead of graphs or PowerPoint presentations, they were hers.

In science, we’re expected to measure everything: voltage, pH levels, and reaction time. But there is no measuring the act of holding someone’s hand while they forget your name, or the strength required to continue to come back to them anyway. This is the kind of labor women have always done. Unacknowledged labor, uncounted labor, but vital labor nonetheless. It is this kind of labor, the kind of labor devalued by society as care, that fuels scientific progress itself. This is one thing feminism helped me recognize.

As someone who works in scientific research, I have been struck by how often science attempts to polarize emotion and intellect. You’re legitimate if you’re logical, but weak if you’re empathetic. But beyond just hurting women in science, this kind of false dichotomy also hurts science itself. The questions we ask in scientific research come from who we are. When more women, and especially women of color, enter science, we bring questions that have never before been asked.

One thing feminist theory often addresses is “ethics of care,” because care is not something to be scorned but rather something to do with moral and intellectual power. This is what I think of every time I go to lab work. This is what I do every time I label a vial of cells or give a presentation or stand up to talk about my findings: practice care for my field and help to transform it from something that once made me feel small to something that contains care.

When I first embarked on my research internship at the Walter Reed Army Institute of Research, I noticed that I was among the youngest individuals in the lab setting. And yes, I recall wondering whether my voice would really carry any weight or whether anyone would take me seriously at all. But every time I decided to speak out or share my thoughts on whether to use this or that approach, I realized that confidence didn’t lie in being loud but in being anchored to my values instead. And this is something feminism showed me before science did.

It is to walk a high wire between precision and patience, between brains and intuition, and between being strong and being soft. But it seems to me now that these things are no longer on one side or the other of any kind of divide. The most excellent scientific minds happen to approach things whole-brained or whole-hearted, asking “who” questions. Who is helped? Who is hurt? Who is not being allowed to participate in this conversation?

At times, I wonder what my Achamma would have thought if she were to witness me now in my lab setting, my gloved hands steady and strong around my work involving data and fluorescence. But she would smile and remark matter-of-factly, “You’re still taking care of people.” And she would be right because science is nothing but another expression of “caring for others” or our “world” around us.

Perhaps care itself is not what serves as a distraction from science but is rather what makes science human. Perhaps future generations of women pursuing science can forget having to choose between being kind and being smart because we have always been both.

By Claudia Gerry, Social Work Major, Critical Sexuality Studies Minor

It was sixth grade, I was in health class, we were in the family life unit. All my classmates could not stop laughing. My teacher had enough of the shenanigans, she made us all stand up and scream, “PENIS” then, “VAGINA” then, “BOOBIES”. I did not understand why it was so funny. Growing up, my mom, a family practice doctor, would read me her medical textbooks to sleep. I was learning biological male anatomy to sleep. I learned how babies were made when I was 5, I simply asked my mom, and she told me, without innuendos, without slang terms, but with her medical textbook. I was always taught medically accurate sex education at home. This luxury is not given to everyone. In my middle school, there was no LGBTQIA+ representation built into our curriculum. Once again, I learned about it at home. I was raised to believe that sex is just a natural part of life, but I must also know how to have safe sex. Not everyone’s parents are as open as mine were, sex education is needed for the safety of everyone. 

The Netherlands and America differ greatly in how they address teenage sexuality, which is very obvious when looking at statistics. American teens, in the industrialized world, have some of the highest rates of STDs. American teen girls are twice more likely to carry a pregnancy to term than they are to receive an abortion. This is most likely due to the stigma surrounding abortion in the US and the lack of factual education about it. Compared to American girls, Dutch girls are less likely to get pregnant and also more likely to have an abortion if pregnant. American teen girls are 4 times as likely to get pregnant, and twice as likely to have an abortion compared to their Dutch counterparts, even though their age of sexual initiation is similar. This is likely due to a lack of education on contraception methods in American schools and homes. Americans heavily stigmatize sexuality, especially for adolescents; they are less likely to educate their children about safe sex practices in the home. This is why sex education in schools is so important.  Dutch youth birth rates are 8 times lower than American youth. Dutch abortion rates are two times lower than the American abortion rates. While the age of sexual initiation for Dutch teens got younger, their birth rate also steeply dropped between the 1970s-1996, it is one of the lowest in the world. Dutch Teens have much lower rates of pregnancy, birth, abortion, and HIV among youth than American teens. 

The book “Not Under My Roof: Parents, Teens, and the Culture of Sex” by Amy T. Schalet is about the comparison of attitudes of adolescent sexuality in the United States and the Netherlands. I read this book for my CSST 332 Sex and Society class. Schalet is an Assistant Professor of Sociology at the University of Massachusetts, Amherst. Schalet’s findings are based on interviews and knowledge about each country’s government and laws. She interviews 130 Dutch and American parents and adolescents (mostly 10th graders) between early 1990 and 2000 who are all similar in education level, religion, class and race, and asks them a series of questions. The main question asked is, as a parent, “would you allow your adolescent child to have a sleepover with the opposite [gender**]?”, or as an adolescent, “would your parent allow you to have a sleepover with the opposite [gender**].?” We find that the answers vary depending on the country, but why? The book explores and explains teenage sexuality in the United States and the Netherlands, mostly in relation to family.  

In the Netherlands, teenage sexuality is seen as normal. Dutch culture normalizes sexuality through three cultural frames: normal sexuality, relationship based sexuality, and self regulated sexuality. Normal sexuality refers to the fact that sexuality can be talked about in an open, unproblematic, and matter of fact manner. Relationship based sexuality refers to the idea that sexual desire and sexual acts grow out of a teen’s feelings for and relationship with another person. Finally, Self-regulated sexuality refers to the belief that readiness for sex is a moment when emotional and physical desires are united, and sensible preventative measures are taken. Sex is talked about in the home like any other topic. There is also an emphasis on safe sex coming from social institutions as well, so Dutch teens are getting the same message from multiple sources. Independent individualism is the dominant cultural norm in the Netherlands. Schalet uses the examples of alcohol, adulthood, and authority when explaining types of individualism. In the Netherlands, alcohol is socially embedded, which leads to teens developing internal control. To be an adult, they need to be able to financially and emotionally self regulate, and authority means to reach mutual agreements. Dutch parents use a form of control over their children called control through connection. Dutch parents tend to use mutual agreements instead of American overt displays of power, making many Dutch adolescents agree to the restrictions placed on them. But, sometimes Dutch teens still feel like their parents are being too restrictive, so they will do things in stiekem (secret). The Dutch societal system has much more room for error compared to America, they have second chances to finish high school, easy access to abortion and emergency contraception, less risk of drunk driving due to the fact that they bike everywhere, and there are fewer legal sanctions surrounding alcohol and drugs. This extra room for error allows Dutch parents to not have to worry as much as their American peers if their children veer off the normalized course of life.

In the United States, teenage sexuality is dramatized. There are 3 frames that support the dramatization of teenage sexuality in the United States, Hormone-based sexuality, the battle between the sexes, and parent-regulated adolescent sexuality. Hormone-based sexuality, also referred to as raging hormones, refers to the idea that hormones are an overpowering force that teens cannot control, leaving parents to think there is a disjunction between the onset of hormones and the cognitive/emotional development needed to control them. The battle between the sexes refers to the fact that sex at adolescence is conceptualized as a battle with winners and losers, and costs and benefits. Lastly, parent-regulated adolescent sexuality refers to the fact that parents think it is their job to monitor and control their teen’s raging hormones because they cannot control themselves, they regulate whatever is in their control, for example, the not under my roof sentiment. American parents avoid the topic of sexuality in the home, leaving it to the school to teach, but the sex education legislation fails its students. Every state has different standards for sex education, some states do not even require the information being taught to be medically accurate. Some parents want to avoid the topic of sexuality in their children’s lives so much that they opt out of the school sex education provided. Adversarial individualism is the dominant cultural norm in the United States. In this form of individualism, teens need external control in relation to alcohol, to be an adult they need to be financially and emotionally self-sufficient, and authority means to win the important battles and let go of the small things. American parents use a form of control over their children called connection through control. American adolescents try to maintain a good kid image for their parents, yet they break the stricter rules to create separation between themselves and their families.

Overall, through reading this book, I learned that the American view of teenage sexuality is not the norm for the rest of the world, specifically the Netherlands.  I think the main ideas of the book are things all parents should know. We see that Dutch unintended pregnancy and STI rates are lower than their US counterparts, and that the Dutch tend to get married and stay married instead of getting multiple divorces like many Americans. I believe that parents should try their best to use the parenting style the Dutch use. Not only for a closer family dynamic, but for the safety and success of their children. 

I always knew that I was raised differently than my peers, but just because I was educated in this way doesn’t mean that the culture I live in had no effect on me. I was raised to ask questions and be open about sexuality, but around the age of 12, I began to keep things secret from my family and close myself off. Even though I was raised similarly to Dutch youth, I still act similarly to my American peers. This shows how important culture is. My parents raised me to be open, but I closed myself off because that was what everyone else my age was doing and was what I would see on TV. I experienced sexual trauma when I was a tween and went through it alone because that’s what my culture made me think was normal. My sex education in school did not emphasize enthusiastic consent and did not give us resources for help. Sex education is now one of my passions. I think every person should know their bodies and understand consent completely. I believe that if we as a society can open up about the human experience of sexuality, people would feel safer talking about their stories, have better sexual experiences, and overall be happier.

**This book was really eye-opening, but my main critique is the use of gendered language and the disregard of nonbinary/gender-nonconforming individuals. I tried my best to use the most inclusive language possible, but that cannot make up for the lack of data given, most likely due to this work being published in 2011 and there not being much research done on that community.

Citation

Schalet, A. T. (2011). Not under my roof : parents, teens, and the culture of sex. University Of Chicago Press.

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By Carrington Cline

Positionality Statement:

This post is written by Carrington Cline, a junior and student staff intern at the Women’s Center. This blog post articulates my encounters with the media’s portrayals of Black women, as it relates to the internal and external pressures that pushed me towards an unwavering focus on academic and career success. It also explores the epiphanies that were crucial for feeling more complete in life without relying on external validation. I’m sharing this blog for all the over-achieving women of color, aiming to encourage them to realize that their existence is inherently good enough.

If you grow up believing you’re nothing, you have to prove that you’re everything.

I’ve started to realize there is an aspect of my life that I’ve failed to recognize, something that has grown just as I have throughout college, a need for external validation. Though this need is something I have recently recognized, is it not a foreign feeling. I feel as though this need for validation comes from the fact that women of color aren’t allowed to feel confident about or secure in themselves. There is something to be said about the way perceptions of Black women, and all women of color, impact their confidence in academic or professional spaces. From as young as first grade I vividly remember the representations of Black women and girls in the media fundamentally altering my perception of self-worth. Mainstream media paints a narrow and limited picture of Black women, communicating to Black girls that their options are limited, and that success is reserved for others who don’t look like us. This distorted narrative evolved into my reality and as a result, I became an overachiever. Stretching myself thin by taking every opportunity that came my way, fostering a belief that my value relied solely on my ability to exceed expectations and challenge stereotypes. But I still found myself anxious, self-conscious, and unhappy with the way I viewed myself.

I am valuable, even when inactive.

My turning point was when I started to value myself in other ways. Fashion and music, among other things, became unprecedented avenues of self-love that started to impact my confidence more than my achievements. Above all else though, I realized that my intrinsic worth wasn’t dictated by any external factor. I needed to learn that I am valuable even when I’m not productive, that my pride shouldn’t come from my achievements, but from simply embracing myself as I am. Notions of ‘exceeding expectations’ are man-made concepts used to keep those in subordinate positions working, in the hopes that they may one day rise through the ranks and find themselves in the dominant position. Existing beyond the lens of expectations, whether it be personal or societal, is integral to embracing the human experience. 

Most importantly, enjoying the smaller things in life, the ones that are easy to disregard, helped me exist fully most of all. My identity as a Black woman is fluid and ever-expanding, and the fundamental multifacetedness of the Black experience operates far beyond any confine or limitation.

This blog is dedicated to all the hard workers, all the women of color who feel they need to take on every opportunity that comes their way, as though their existence alone isn’t enough. For those who relate, I implore you to take a step back and look at where you are now from the perspective of your younger self. 

You do not need to be productive to be proud, just existing is more than good enough!

If I am worth anything later, I am worth something now. For wheat is wheat, even if people think it is grass in the beginning.

– Vincent Van Gogh

By Abby Claytor

Our progress will depend on strong foundational concepts grounded in being self-reflective, deliberate, and evaluative. Taking time to develop and strengthen our foundations—individually and institutionally—is essential, no matter how progressive or rudimentary we may be in our thinking and actions.

Jane Larsson, Executive Director, CIS

What started as a quest for me to understand myself and others has turned into a deep dive into the complexities of identity and diversity. Subtle influences have molded my existence, the nuance of culture, and the invisible forces guiding my thoughts and actions became apparent. Growing up specific influences strongly shaped my beliefs. Unmasking my true self-involved questioning those ingrained ideas to align with my evolving morals and values. Here is a portion of my personal exploration in terms of my racial identity and values associated with working towards racial justice.

I have spent the past couple months working at the Women’s Center at UMBC. I learned more about myself and others than I expected to, especially demographic similarities and differences individuals share.  Individuals’ differences are often highlighted rather than their similarities, especially when most similarities happen to be invisible to the eye. I am a female; I am white; I am middle class. While these aspects certainly hold relevance, they do not encapsulate the entirety of my life’s narrative. What is not seen impacts me more than the visual appearance I hold. Because of this, I feel strongly that issues surrounding race, gender, and culture are inherent in the research questions I wish to pursue. But to what extent does my identity as a white middle class woman preclude me from writing critically about these issues? Who am I to write about race?  

Troubled by how my “savior” approach has patronized so many parents, students, and friends, I felt paralyzed. Cancel culture anxiety had taken my inquiries and buried them behind the fear associated with this. I have been unable to find the words that best fit my intentions. 

I understand now that I was lacking in my approach – the realization that race and racism are not things that occur outside of me. Working toward racial justice by “helping” others ignores the ways in which I, as a white person, continually benefit from systems of oppression and privilege. Asking who am I to write about race, implies that I have no racial identity and that I am somehow outside institutionally racist systems. Writing this blog has provided space for me to reconsider what it means for a white person to engage in anti-racist work. I do have a role to play in the fight against racial injustice. The first step in assuming that role is to engage in self-education and self-reflection about systems of race in America and my place in them. 

I would also like to mention that the concept of white people talking about race can seem wrong or threatening. Because of this inherent fear, white people often wait to talk about race until interracial dialogues. This is problematic as many white people are frequently hindered in such conversations by inexperience discussing race, ignorance about the legacy of racial injustice in the US, and underdeveloped racial identities. Many people of color, on the other hand, arrive at interracial dialogues with an intimate understanding of racial dynamics and experience talking about race with friends and family. From a personal account I can attest that this was a taboo topic with my friends and family.

Starting at the Women’s Center was part of what forced me to confront my fears associated with my ignorance. In staff meetings or one-on-ones with my field instructor, topics associated with race have come up. My prior approach of avoidance was not effective.  It is impossible to deny that white privilege has impacted my life and the lives of others daily. However, I have now learned that continually examining one’s race and its role can be described as reflection as a form of action. (Indeed, avoiding this path is part of the dangerous lethargy of white privilege). While it may occasionally prompt discomfort, I do recognize the validity of this reality. This recognition is not found upon personal gain in any specific circumstance but rather on an awareness of systematic predispositions within society.

Being forced to confront my fears shattered barriers of avoidance. Now with my newfound insights and commitment to continual self-examination, I can embrace the uncomfortable but imperative journey towards unraveling the knots of racial injustice.

By Tanzila Malik

Growing up as a second-generation Pakistani-American, I never had a strong connection to my culture. My dad’s family immigrated to Nebraska from Pakistan in the early 1970s when he was just a year old. My mom lived in Pakistan until the age of eight. Then she moved to England, and then later to Germany. Neither had many memories from their time in Pakistan, so I was never exposed to my culture or in touch with that side of me the same way as other Pakistanis I know.

I grew up around my dad’s family, who had spent their whole lives in the US, chasing the American dream, and leaving behind their lives in Pakistan. They assimilated themselves into American culture, including religiously watching Sunday night football like most other American families I know. But I’ve always felt too Pakistani for the Americans, and too American for the Pakistanis.

I grew up in a predominantly white neighborhood, and my elementary school was the same. Although I made really good friends throughout my years there, I was still always made to feel like the “other.” Whether it was the fact that none of my teachers looked like me, constantly having to correct peoples’ pronunciation of my name, or that people would automatically assume I was related to one of the few brown kids in the school. The list is endless. Because of this, I always felt ashamed of my background, and like I had to prove that I was a “normal American” like my peers. The one attempt my school made to be culturally inclusive, was the annual “Family Heritage Night.” During this, people set up tables with artifacts from their cultures including clothes, food, games, etc. Despite my opposition, my mom insisted that we set up a table to showcase our Pakistani culture. She tried to make me wear our traditional clothing, but I refused and tried my best to be anywhere but where our table was.

These feelings continued throughout my years in elementary school but shifted once I got to high school, where the population was significantly more diverse. I met so many people from different cultural backgrounds, including my own, and felt empowered enough to begin reclaiming my cultural identity. This feeling didn’t last long though. Soon, I began to realize that I didn’t fit in with my South Asian friends either. People would poke fun at me for not knowing their references to Bollywood movies or other aspects of Pakistani popular culture. I began to feel like an outsider again, even among people from my own culture and I projected their perception of me onto myself. In my head, I thought that since I couldn’t always relate to my culture the same way as my Pakistani friends, that must mean I’m not really Pakistani.

As I’ve gotten older, and have been exposed to different cultures and ways of thinking in college, I’ve realized that there is no “right” way to “do” culture. Culture is constantly changing, and is whatever we make it. This is still something I work through every day, through my interactions with other people, experiences at school, work, etc. But I’m learning that I don’t need to force myself to fit in with one group or the other and that how I perceive my identity is the only thing that matters.