CHAPTER 2 AWARENESS OF CAMPUS SEXUAL VIOLENCE Raising awareness about sexual violence is crucial for eradicating it. When people do not understand the significance of a problem, they cannot work to address it. However, people must have accurate and complete information to effectively address campus sexual violence, which requires activists, scholars, and educators to operate from a power-conscious perspective. In this chapter, I provide a brief history of campus sexual violence awareness-raising on college campuses, followed by an analysis of a few current awareness-raising events and strategies. Finally, I conclude the chapter with a discussion of ideas for more effectively engaging in awareness-raising about sexual violence on college and university campuses. HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVES Although people, and even more specifically women of color, have been organizing around issues of sexual violence for centuries (Giddings, 1984; Greensite, 2009; McGuire, 2010), many scholars identify the 1970s and 1980s as a significant turning point for addressing sexual violence on college campuses (Bevacqua, 2000; Bohmer & Parrot, 1993; Corrigan, 2013). During this time, activists worked to raise awareness about the problem of sexual violence, striving to interrupt myths about sexual violence and help people understand the nature of sexual violence. In the 1970s, feminists initiated and engaged in a variety of consciousness-raising groups, working to support women in coming to understand the ways they experience sexism. In addition to addressing sexism and sexual harassment in the workplace, reproductive justice issues, and political and cultural power of women, feminists also continued to raise awareness about interpersonal violence, including sexual violence (Bevacqua, 2000). Activists in the 1970s through the 1990s also engaged in a variety of activist campaigns designed to raise awareness about sexual assault, including marches, protests, and demonstrations, some of which still exist in some form today. For example, Take Back the Night, The Clothesline Project, and Vagina Monologues are examples of longstanding awareness-raising events related to sexual violence. In 2006, Aishah Shahidah Simmons released the film NO! The Rape Documentary reminding viewers about the unique relationship between racism, sexism, and sexual violence for Black women. Each of these events contributes to the on-going discussion related to sexual violence on college and university campuses today. Part of the awareness-raising related to sexual violence in the 1970s and 1980s was identifying the insidiousness of acquaintance sexual violence, which at the time, was referred to as “date rape” (Koss, 1985; Warshaw, 1988). Feminists in the larger community had already identified sexual violence as a part of the cycle of abuse in domestic violence. A breakthrough study in 1987 illuminated the problem of sexual violence in acquaintance or dating situations among college students. Koss a.

1. CHAPTER 2 AWARENESS OF CAMPUS SEXUAL VIOLENCE
Raising awareness about sexual violence is crucial for
eradicating it. When people do not understand the significance
of a problem, they cannot work to address it. However, people
must have accurate and complete information to effectively
address campus sexual violence, which requires activists,
scholars, and educators to operate from a power-conscious
perspective. In this chapter, I provide a brief history of campus
sexual violence awareness-raising on college campuses,
followed by an analysis of a few current awareness-raising
events and strategies. Finally, I conclude the chapter with a
discussion of ideas for more effectively engaging in awareness-
raising about sexual violence on college and university
campuses. HISTORICAL PERSPECTIVES Although people,
and even more specifically women of color, have been
organizing around issues of sexual violence for centuries
(Giddings, 1984; Greensite, 2009; McGuire, 2010), many
scholars identify the 1970s and 1980s as a significant turning
point for addressing sexual violence on college campuses
(Bevacqua, 2000; Bohmer & Parrot, 1993; Corrigan, 2013).
During this time, activists worked to raise awareness about the
problem of sexual violence, striving to interrupt myths about
sexual violence and help people understand the nature of sexual
violence. In the 1970s, feminists initiated and engaged in a
variety of consciousness-raising groups, working to support
women in coming to understand the ways they experience
sexism. In addition to addressing sexism and sexual harassment
in the workplace, reproductive justice issues, and political and
cultural power of women, feminists also continued to raise
awareness about interpersonal violence, including sexual
violence (Bevacqua, 2000). Activists in the 1970s through the
1990s also engaged in a variety of activist campaigns designed
to raise awareness about sexual assault, including marches,
protests, and demonstrations, some of which still exist in some

2. form today. For example, Take Back the Night, The Clothesline
Project, and Vagina Monologues are examples of longstanding
awareness-raising events related to sexual violence. In 2006,
Aishah Shahidah Simmons released the film NO! The Rape
Documentary reminding viewers about the unique relationship
between racism, sexism, and sexual violence for Black women.
Each of these events contributes to the on-going discussion
related to sexual violence on college and university campuses
today. Part of the awareness-raising related to sexual violence
in the 1970s and 1980s was identifying the insidiousness of
acquaintance sexual violence, which at the time, was referred to
as “date rape” (Koss, 1985; Warshaw, 1988). Feminists in the
larger community had already identified sexual violence as a
part of the cycle of abuse in domestic violence. A breakthrough
study in 1987 illuminated the problem of sexual violence in
acquaintance or dating situations among college students. Koss
and colleagues surveyed more than 6,000 students on 32
campuses, highlighting the reality that one in four college
women experienced a completed or attempted sexual assault
during her college career (Koss, Gidycz, & Wisniewski, 1987).
This work paved the way for activists and educators to raise
awareness about sexual violence as a significant problem
beyond that of stranger rape. In consultation with the Ms.
Foundation for Education, Robin Warshaw (1988) advanced
Koss’ work through the groundbreaking book I Never Called It
Rape, which illuminated and gave language to the experiences
of thousands of college women as it related to sexual violence.
Although many feminists and activists already knew that they
had been experiencing rape and sexual violence in dating
relationships, Koss and Warshaw helped to validate their
experiences, giving language to their experiences and
legitimizing it through research. Unfortunately, this early
research failed to account for identities and experiences with
oppression beyond that of gender and sexism, leading to limited
information about the ways that racism, classism, ableism, and
homophobia also influence people’s experiences with sexual

3. violence. STRATEGIES AND EVENTS Today, activists and
educators build on this history to raise awareness about sexual
violence on college campuses. Activists employ a variety of
strategies and organize many events to raise people’s awareness
about sexual violence. In this chapter, I organize these
approaches into three major categories: (1) prevalence of sexual
assault; (2) definitions and dynamics of sexual violence; and (3)
resources for survivors in the aftermath of sexual assault,
including reporting procedures. Activists and educators may use
organized messaging strategies, including press releases,
brochures, and posters; intentional anonymous infiltration of
mainstream spaces, including posters and art; grassroots
information-sharing, including social media and informal
discussions; among a variety of other strategies to raise
awareness about sexual violence. The purpose of raising
awareness related to sexual violence is to make more people
aware of the problem to garner more support for policy change,
support for survivors, and accountability for perpetrators,
ultimately eradicating sexual violence. Prevalence As described
above, one of the significant aspects of the history of sexual
violence awareness-raising includes making people aware of the
prevalence and types of sexual violence happening on college
campuses. Today, the message that one in four women will
experience sexual violence in her college career is prevalent and
students report a high level of awareness about the significance
of sexual violence (Walsh, Banyard, Moynihan, Ward, & Cohn,
2010). Activists and educators share this message through
educational programs, including orientation and mandatory
online training for new college students. Further, reporters
frequently focus on this statistic when reporting about sexual
violence in written and television media (Baumgartner &
McAdon, 2017; McCummings, Lingerfelt, & Salon Young
Americans, 2018). In fact, one organization to address sexual
violence by engaging men as active bystanders is even called
“One in Four” (One in Four, n.d.). Despite the increased
awareness of the prevalence of sexual violence on college

4. campuses, some challenges exist. Examining the effectiveness
of awareness about the prevalence of sexual violence through a
power-conscious lens illuminates some of these challenges. One
of the challenges is that few college students understand what
this number means. Despite knowing that sexual violence
happens at alarmingly high rates on college campuses, many
students still subscribe to stranger-danger myths, meaning that
they believe that most sexual assaults are committed by
strangers, rather than people known to the victims (Fisher &
Sloan, 2003; Hayes-Smith & Levett, 2010; Linder & Lacy,
2017). Further, many college students also subscribe to the
myth that perpetrators of sexual violence primarily target pretty,
white cisgender heterosexual women as victims (Hockett,
Saucier, & Badke, 2016). Finally, the one-in-four statistic also
contributes to an over-focus on victims, resulting in the
invisibility of perpetrators. Stranger-danger Myths Although
students may be aware of the high rates of sexual violence on
college campuses, their strategies for protecting themselves still
revolve around stranger-danger myths. In a study recently
conducted at a southeastern university in the US, cisgender
women students identified carrying pepper spray and other
weapons, not walking alone at night, and watching their drinks
at parties and bars as their primary strategies for reducing their
risk of sexual violence (Linder & Lacy, 2017). Further, most
campus safety websites offer tips for preventing sexual assault
and many of these tips focus on victims’ responsibility to
prevent sexual assault and focus on stranger danger. These
safety tips primarily focus on women as potential victims and
men as potential perpetrators (Bedera & Nordmeyer, 2015; Lund
& Thomas, 2015). Although it is important for people to be
cognizant of their safety in a variety of settings, it is also
important for people to recognize that they are more likely to be
targeted by someone they know than by someone they do not
know. In fact, 86% of sexual assaults happen when a perpetrator
targets someone they know (Black et al., 2011). Further, most
sexual violence happens between people of similar

5. socioeconomic classes and happens intra-racially (between
people of the same race; Black et al., 2011). With the exception
of Native American women, most people are assaulted by
people of the same race. Given the history of colonization and
current context of ineffective legal strategies for addressing
violence perpetrated by non-Native people on Native American
reservations, Native American women are often targeted by
white perpetrators (Deer, 2015, 2017). Despite this history,
most white women are socialized to fear the “other,”
specifically Black and Latino men who are strangers to them.
Media representations of perpetrators of sexual violence
contribute to this narrative about perpetrators of sexual
violence, resulting in people misperceiving who perpetrators of
sexual violence are (Meyers, 2004; Patton & Snyder-Yuly,
2007). The misunderstanding of the dynamics of sexual violence
may contribute to an increased risk of sexual violence because
students fail to understand the appropriate times to intervene
and “protect” themselves from the wrong people. Although it is
never a potential victim’s responsibility to protect themselves
from sexual assault, people – especially women and gender
nonbinary people – do engage in a fair number of strategies to
reduce their risk of being targeted for sexual assault. However,
because people misperceive and misunderstand the dynamics of
sexual violence, they are usually not protecting themselves from
the people most likely to cause harm – people they know, trust,
and are in relationship with. Teaching students to understand
the nuanced dynamics of sexual violence may contribute to a
reduced risk of violence. When students understand that people
they know are more likely to target them as potential victims of
sexual assault, they may be more astute to some warning signs
perpetrators display. Pretty White Women Myths Because
research frequently fails to disaggregate data based on identities
other than a binary gender, the one-in-four statistic about
campus sexual assault primarily applies to heterosexual, white,
cisgender women. Most research on campus sexual violence
includes an overrepresentation of white women and rarely

6. collects demographic information on sexual orientation, ability,
or gender identity (Linder, Williams, Lacy, Parker, & Grimes,
2017). Specifically, in a content analysis of 10 years of research
about campus sexual violence, 20% of articles included
demographic information on sexual orientation, 0.9% on ability
status, and 1.4% on gender identity (allowing people to identify
as something other than man or woman; Linder et al., 2017).
Although the research may include transgender women, women
with disabilities, or queer women, the researchers do not know
because they did not ask, making the experiences of people at
these intersections invisible. Further, although 72% of
researchers collect demographic information related to race,
fewer than 22% of articles included an analysis based on race.
Researchers use racial demographic information to describe
their samples, but not to analyze their findings (Linder et al.,
2017). The few studies that have disaggregated data based on
identities, including race, ability, sexual orientation, and gender
identity, illuminate that perpetrators often target people with
minoritized identities at higher rates than their nonminoritized
peers. Studies are difficult to interpret because researchers
define and measure sexual violence and identity categories
differently. The most frequently cited studies in the US that
disaggregate data based on identities beyond gender include the
National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey
(NIPSVS) conducted by the Centers for Disease Control (Black
et al., 2011) and the Association of American Universities’
(AAU) Campus Climate Survey on Sexual Assault and Sexual
Misconduct (Cantor et al., 2015). The NIPSVS study includes a
national sample not specific to college students, but indicates
that women of color (with the exception of Asian women)
experience significantly higher rates of rape than white women
(Black et al., 2011). The AAU study, specific to college
students, reports mixed results related to race and sexual
violence, but indicates that queer and trans students and
students with disabilities experience exceptionally high rates of
sexual violence (Cantor et al., 2015). People at the intersections

7. of more than one of these identities experience even higher
rates of sexual violence (Porter & McQuiller Williams, 2011).
Perpetrators likely target minoritized populations at higher rates
because they believe they can get away with it and because
entitlement and power are the root of sexual violence. The mere
existence of minoritized people makes some heterosexual,
cisgender, white men uncomfortable (either consciously or
unconsciously) because minoritized people interrupt the status
quo. Interrupting current power structures results in people from
dominant groups believing that they are being disempowered,
resulting in them acting out and causing harm to minoritized
people to maintain their power over people who do not share
their identities and experiences, as illustrated throughout
history in the US and other Western, colonized countries. The
implications of focusing on only one type of victim in campus
sexual violence education are significant. When people are
taught to picture a pretty, white, cisgender, straight woman as
the primary victim of sexual violence, they likely fail to
consider other people as potential victims. Failing to consider
that other people may also be victims of sexual violence means
that well-meaning students, educators, and administrators likely
unintentionally minimize some students’ experiences with
sexual violence, resulting in them not receiving the care they
need. For example, when a gay male student discloses to an
academic advisor that he wants to drop a class because he is
struggling with what he describes as a “personal issue” with
someone in the class, it is unlikely the academic advisor would
think of sexual violence as the potential “personal issue” unless
the advisor had power-conscious training (or personal
experience) related to sexual violence. Given that victims are
portrayed as white, cisgender heterosexual women, the
academic advisor may consider sexual violence as a potential
issue if a white, cisgender, heterosexual woman presents this
problem to them, but not in the case of a gay male student. The
academic advisor may not think to offer resources related to
interpersonal violence to the male student and he may miss out

8. on potential resources that could serve him. Additionally, if the
resources available to survivors of sexual violence consistently
portray women in their materials or are only available through a
“women’s center,” this student may not think that the services
are for him, which I will explore in Chapter 3. Invisibility of
Perpetrators Closely related to the challenge of the myth of
stranger danger is the challenge of failing to name perpetrators
as responsible. The one-in-four statistic fails to name and
address perpetrators of sexual violence, which subliminally
contributes to placing disproportionate responsibility on victims
to prevent sexual violence. Although remaining victim-centered
is an important component of sexual violence response, it may
be less than effective for raising awareness about preventing
sexual violence. Focusing heavily on victims in media coverage
and research may result in perpetrators, especially white,
middle-class perpetrators, remaining invisible. Many of the
ways activists, scholars, and journalists frequently report
statistics sound as if the sexual assault just happens, and no one
is responsible for committing it. What if, instead of focusing
exclusively on victims of sexual violence, the statistics focused
on the number of perpetrators of sexual violence? Framing
discussions about sexual violence by naming the number of
perpetrators and how many people they target may result in an
increased focus on addressing perpetrators of sexual violence.
For example, by stating, “Research indicates that 11.4% of
college men have committed acts of sexual violence” (Gidycz,
Warkentin, Orchowski, & Edwards, 2011), people may have a
different understanding of who perpetrators are and an
increased attention to addressing perpetrators of sexual violence
as a form of prevention. What if scholars, activists, and
journalists spent as much time and energy on statistics about
perpetrators as they do on the statistic about one in four women
experiencing sexual violence? What if college students could
specifically name that one in 10 men has committed an act of
sexual violence? How would this shift the responsibility and
focus of sexual violence prevention? Similar to the research

9. about victimization, most of the participants in studies about
perpetration include white, middle-class, heterosexual, and
assumingly cisgender men (Linder et al., 2017). Although the
participants of these studies include primarily white,
heterosexual, and cisgender men, researchers frequently fail to
name the racial or other identities of their participants. If a
study had over 80% Black or African American participants,
researchers would most certainly describe the racial identity of
their participants, and likely attribute many of their findings to
race; however, because whiteness is invisible and considered
the norm in mainstream Western society, researchers fail to
name the relationship between whiteness and perpetration that
likely exists. Working from the tenet of the power-conscious
framework to name and interrupt dominant group members’
investment in and benefit from systems of oppression, scholars
and activists must do more to name perpetrators’ responsibility
for sexual violence. Definitions and Dynamics Other approaches
to raising awareness about campus sexual violence include
targeting people’s emotional senses to raise awareness about the
definitions of sexual assault and the dynamics of how sexual
violence happens. Activists frequently work to raise awareness
about prevalence, definitions, and dynamics through events like
Take Back the Night, Carry that Weight, or online campaigns
where people share their stories and experiences with sexual
violence. In this section, I will examine a few specific
awareness-raising events that take place on college and
university campuses through a power-conscious lens. I choose
to focus on a few examples of events to illustrate the
complexity of developing power-conscious awareness events,
rather than to critique or praise any particular event. Although I
focus on specific events in this chapter, the principles,
questions, and issues raised apply to many events and activities.
Finally, I will conclude this section with an examination of
social media as a specific strategy activists use to raise
awareness about sexual violence through a power-conscious
lens, illustrating the challenges and benefits of social media as

10. a tool for activism and awareness. Walk a Mile in Her Shoes
Community and campus organizers frequently organize an event
called Walk a Mile in Her Shoes (WAMHS). Activists designed
this event to engage men in better understanding the
experiences of women by asking them to walk a mile in high
heels. The event took off on college campuses in the early
2000s, with many campuses hosting WAMHS marches and
rallies. However, thanks to the critical thinking of many
scholars and activists (Bridges, 2010; Kannis & Iverson, 2017;
Nicolazzo, 2015), many campuses have stopped hosting these
events. WAMHS events are particularly harmful on many levels,
including making light of a very important subject. The
atmosphere at most WAMHS events is light-hearted and
includes lots of laughter about men trying to walk in high heels.
Although many organizers attempt to engage in education at
these marches, people who attend the marches report a lot of
giggling and goofing among the participants, even during times
when participants should be listening to organizers share
information about the prevalence and dynamics of sexual
violence (Bridges, 2010; Kannis & Iverson, 2017). In addition
to this being sexist because it assumes that being a woman
means wearing high heels, or being otherwise feminine, it also
perpetuates cissexism, which is the belief that all people must
exist on a gender binary and meet the expectations put upon
them by society in that binary. Comments overheard at WAMHS
events are often homophobic and transphobic in nature
(Bridges, 2010; Nicolazzo, 2015). The reality is that
homophobia and transphobia are significant contributors to
sexual violence, so the fact that an event exists to raise
awareness about sexual violence by perpetuating rape culture is
astounding. Although some people may argue there are ways to
do an “appropriate” WAMHS, I am doubtful. This is one of
those events that we should likely just do away with! Take Back
the Night Take Back the Night (TBTN) is another crucial
awareness-raising event that has made a significant impact on
people’s awareness of sexual violence. Additionally, TBTN

11. marches often have a secondary impact of creating spaces of
healing for survivors. Generally, TBTN marches consist of a
speak-out that includes opportunities for people to share their
stories related to sexual violence and potentially a main speaker
who addresses sexual violence through a keynote address,
spoken word poetry, or music. Before or after the speak-out,
participants in TBTN events march through their campus or
community at dusk, yelling chants and carrying signs about rape
and sexual violence. TBTN marchers sometimes experience
harassment from onlookers, illustrating the significance and
importance of the events. Ironically, TBTN marches also
frequently include “protection” from police officers on the
march routes. TBTN marches are an example of events that have
evolved over time to be more mindful of power and identity. For
example, many TBTN marches started as women’s only spaces –
spaces for survivors to come together, share their stories, and
engage in healing. They were designed as women-only events as
a way to ensure that perpetrators would not be present at the
event. As one can see, the gender-exclusive nature of the events
is rooted in the faulty assumptions that only women are
survivors and only men are perpetrators and that people only
identify as either men or women. Over time, many TBTN
marches have changed to be gender-expansive, meaning that
people of all genders are welcome to participate as long as the
focus stays on creating a space for survivors to share their
stories as part of their healing processes. For activists and
educators who continue to engage in TBTN marches and
planning, considering questions related to power and privilege
remain crucial. For example, given what we know about the
relationship between racism and the criminal justice system,
how does police presence impact people of color who attend or
may want to attend the event? Similarly, are all of the speakers
at the event cisgender heterosexual nondisabled white women?
What are the ways that other people’s stories may be centered in
this event? Given the exceptionally high rates of sexual
violence among people from minoritized communities, how are

12. their experiences represented? Finally, although TBTN events
are frequently held as “marches,” is the route accessible for
people who use wheelchairs? Is there an intentional focus on
reaching people with physical disabilities and providing means
of participation beyond marching? Are sign language
interpreters available and present? The Role of Social Media
One of the strategies many activists use when engaging in
campaigns designed to reach people through their emotions is
by infiltrating mainstream spaces that may not typically focus
on sexual violence. For example, the #MeToo campaign that
recently took place on Facebook and Twitter after several
allegations of sexual harassment by high-profile men in
Hollywood caught on quickly and showed up in newsfeeds
across the globe. This campaign worked because people could
not avoid it. If a person regularly uses Facebook, it would have
been hard for them to not to see at least a few posts with the
#MeToo hashtag. Eventually, people would have to stop and
take notice that at least something was going on related to
sexual harassment. Similarly, Emma Sulkawicz’s art project at
Columbia University worked because she drew attention to the
problem of campus sexual violence by carrying a mattress
around campus for an entire academic year. She carried the
mattress in protest of her institution failing to hold the person
who harmed her accountable for his actions. The campaign
caught people’s attention because it was hard not to notice the
woman in class with a mattress beside her. Eventually the Carry
that Weight campaign caught on and activists on campuses all
over organized mattress displays and shared their stories using
the hashtag #CarryThatWeight on social media. Some people
may critique social media as a form of activism, calling it
“slacktivism” meaning that it does not create any real change
because it is “just online” (Cabrera, Matias, & Montoya, 2017).
This argument fails to consider the dynamics of power and
privilege in a variety of ways. First, online spaces are “real
life.” They have significant implications for our day-to-day
well-being and influence the ways that we interact with each

13. other. Additionally, online spaces may be some people’s only
option for engaging in awareness-raising as a form of activism.
Given the ramifications of participating in “in the streets”
activism, some students do not have the luxury of participating.
For example, being arrested for civil disobedience has a
significantly different impact on students of color, transgender
students, and poor students than it does on their white,
cisgender, middle-class peers. Given the realities of racism in
criminal justice systems and in hiring practices, people of color
may experience more significant consequences in the criminal
justice system and will surely experience more significant
consequences for having a record (Ross, 2014). Given that
white people with a criminal record are more likely to be hired
at most jobs than people of color without a criminal record
(Ross, 2014), imagine what it might be like for a person of
color with a criminal record trying to find a job. Similarly,
unemployment rates among transgender people are exceedingly
high (Center for American Progress, 2015; Ross, 2014),
pointing to similar problems related to employment and criminal
records for transgender people. Further, given that jail cells are
segregated by gender, they are very dangerous places for
transgender people. Finally, although middle-class people may
be able to afford legal costs for engaging in civil disobedience,
this additional expense could impact poor and working-class
students’ ability to afford rent, food, and other basic
necessities. Even for activists who engage in less potentially
dangerous activities than civil disobedience, the consequences
for their actions can be time-consuming and significant.
Participating in organized protests, marches, and sit-ins requires
time that students who have to work to support themselves do
not always have. Further, activist spaces often center or focus
on one issue at a time, rendering the experiences of people with
multiple minoritized identities invisible, resulting in them not
feeling comfortable to participate. For example, organizing
around issues of sexual orientation frequently focuses on the
experiences of white and cisgender people, making it unlikely

14. that transgender and queer people of color will be heard in these
spaces. Social media provides an outlet for people who
frequently do not see themselves in local movements to find
community and opportunity to engage with other people whose
experiences more closely align with their own. Awareness of
Resources Another important strand of awareness-raising
strategies on college campuses includes letting people know
about resources for survivors in the aftermath of sexual
violence, including campus adjudication processes. Research
about campus reporting systems indicates that many survivors
of sexual violence choose not to report their experiences of
sexual violence to campus officials (Orchowski, Meyer, &
Gidycz, 2009; Zinzow & Thompson, 2011). If survivors do
choose to discuss their experiences with assault, they do so with
family members and friends (Orchowski et al., 2009). Survivors
share a number of reasons for not reporting their experiences
with sexual violence, including that they do not think they will
be believed, they do not think their experience is “bad” enough
to be considered sexual assault, and that they do not know how
or where to report (Orchowski et al., 2009; Zinzow &
Thompson, …
Watch the following YouTube video and then address the
question in your first post.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jW1jl1vYk-8 (Links to an
external site.)
Assume that you will be sent as an international assignee to
Qatar, and this video was part of your orientation to prepare you
for the assignment. What would be your major concerns when
arriving in Qatar (list at least 5 concerns)? Will this orientation
video be enough to prepare you for your assignment, or would
you need more preparation? Explain.
Interpersonal Violence and Sexual Assault: Trauma-Informed
Communication Approaches in University Counseling Centers.

15. A university in the United States Mountain West utilized grant
resources to track counseling services for students who were
currently experiencing or who had historically experienced
relationship violence, sexual assault and/or stalking. This report
reflects on the first 2 years of this program, including an
overview of prevalence and reporting rates of interpersonal
violence from university students. Given the prevalence of
recent and historic interpersonal violence among university
students, suggestions are offered for bringing a trauma-
informed and communication-focused perspective to the
solution-focused brief therapy model used in many university
counseling centers. A case study outlining these approaches is
offered.
Keywords: Campus assault; campus violence; communication;
counseling centers; interpersonal violence; relationship
violence; sexual assault; short-term therapy
For two academic years, a Department of Justice cooperative
agreement provided funding to a public university in the U.S.
Mountain West. The funding was specified for mental health
treatment of students who had experienced relationship
violence, sexual assault and/or stalking. Services were tracked
for 2 years to measure the number of students who disclosed
domestic/dating violence, sexual assault, and/or stalking. In the
first year, the number of students who had experienced
interpersonal violence was recorded. In the second year we
compiled more detailed descriptive data on demographics and
diagnoses of those who reported experiencing interpersonal
violence within the past year, and for those who had a lifetime
history of family or interpersonal violence. Having provided
these specific services within a university counseling center, we
were able to report certain trends that occurred in
communication between clients and therapists during the course
of this project, in the hopes they might apply to other university
counseling centers in the United States.
Reflections and suggestions based on our work over the past

16. two academic years come in three parts. First, we present some
literature on the prevalence of interpersonal violence on college
campuses and within the lifetime experience of college students.
We also introduce the use of solution-focused brief therapy as a
model for therapeutic settings that require caps on session
limits, especially in university counseling center models where
treatment duration must conform to academic year standards,
among other constraints. Second, we recommend
communication techniques from a trauma-informed lens that
counseling centers may use to approach relationship violence,
sexual assault, and stalking, seen as public health and mental
health concerns. These communication behaviors are primarily
based in communication accommodation theory (Giles &
Powesland, [12]). This theory connects relational benefits (like
feelings of affiliation, mutual understanding, and relational
satisfaction) to strategic verbal and nonverbal communication
shifts that an individual can make to engage in ways that are
similar to their conversational partner (Giles, Willemyns,
Gallois, & Anderson, [13]). We include reflections regarding
client presentation and client communication patterns that
recurred within our work over the past 2 years. Finally, we offer
a case study with a student who disclosed experiencing
interpersonal violence. The case study offers an example of the
type of client communication patterns and trauma-informed
practitioner work that we believe is vital in working with
college student populations.
Interpersonal violence and university students
Many university students experience traumatic incidents, with
12% of university students meeting the criteria for post-
traumatic stress disorder (PTSD; Frazier et al., [ 9]). Although
the two most commonly reported traumatic events are the
unexpected death of a loved one or friend (experienced by 47%
of university students) or witnessing a life-threatening event
involving someone close (experienced by 30%), it is notable
that the next most common traumatic events students report are
witnessing family violence (23%) and being on the receiving

17. end of unwanted sexual attention (21%; Frazier et al., [ 9]).
Furthermore, 31% of respondents in Frazier and colleagues'
([ 9]) study reported that sexual assault was the "worst event" of
their lives and had experienced higher rates of PTSD than those
experiencing other forms of trauma.
Studies examining the occurrence of sexual assault on college
campuses reveal how considerably underreported this violent
crime is. Current rates of sexual assault on campus show that
one in five women and one in 16 men are sexually assaulted
while in college (Krebs, Warner, Fisher, & Martin, [18]).
However, many of these students do not seek formal assistance
in coping directly with the mental health impact of sexual
assault. This is partially due to the fact that survivors of sexual
assault or interpersonal violence are less likely to disclose these
events to police or medical staff than they are to a friend or
family member (Chen & Ullman, [ 3]; Fisher, Daigle, Cullen, &
Turner, [ 8]; Orchowski, Meyer, & Gidycz, [21]; Ullman &
Filipas, [24]). Formal reporting or support-seeking from
professionals is hindered by a number of factors including
complexity of reporting, fears about autonomy and
confidentiality, underage alcohol consumption, shared
community and living space, and perception of lack of
accountability for offenders (Busch-Armendariz, [ 2]).
Reportedly, only 33% of women and 25% of men seek out
counseling to directly address the mental health impact of
sexual assault (Tjaden & Thoennes, [23]).
The mental health impact of interpersonal violence (both
historical and recent) in general is so considerable that in 2002
the World Health Organization labeled intimate partner violence
a public health epidemic (Krug, Dahlberg, Mercy, Zwi, &
Lozano, [19]). Women on college campuses who experience
physical and/or sexual violence are at increased risk for
depression; anxiety symptoms are often associated with verbal
aggression or physical violence at the hands of a partner or
previous partner (Amar & Gennaro, [ 1]; Frazier et al., [ 9]).
Mechanic, Weaver, and Resick ([20]) found that psychological

18. abuse and stalking are contributing factors to depression and
PTSD, even after controlling for physical violence and sexual
assault. A history of interpersonal violence is so prevalent for
people seeking physical and mental health services for
ostensibly "unrelated" issues that Christopher and Kisler ([ 4])
recommend asking about experiences of interpersonal violence
upon female college students' initial presentation of any signs
of "mental health distress" (p. 167).
Trauma-Informed communication approaches
There is a great deal of variation in treatment approaches among
university counseling centers. While some centers offer long-
term, in-depth psychotherapy, the majority of university
counseling centers report using a brief therapy model
(Gallagher, [10]). A common brief therapy model is de Shazer
and Berg's
Solution
-Focused Brief Therapy (SFBT). This approach directs
clinicians to focus on future solutions to problems, rather than
delving into problem origins or more in-depth psychosocial
history (de Shazer et al., [ 5]). Outcome studies show that those
receiving SFBT have significant benefit when compared to
those who receive no treatment or other treatment approaches
(Gingerich & Eisengrt, [14]). SFBT is adaptable, low-cost, and
can foster both emotional and behavioral change (Kim &
Franklin, [17]).
Though this brief-therapy model is useful, it may present two
challenges in working with college students with trauma. First,

19. focusing primarily on the future may prevent clinicians from
recognizing past issues of sexual assault or other relationship
violence in the client's history. This may lead to inadvertent
triggering or retraumatization (Fallot & Harris, [6]). Second, if
current or past sexual assault or other relationship violence is
disclosed, the brief therapy model might influence clinicians to
shy away from continued treatment after intake or to refer out to
community settings those clients who present with these
specific concerns. This could stigmatize these student clients, or
even lead them to shut down and not utilize the more immediate
opportunities for change or healing.
A solution to address these dual challenges is to complement
the SFBT approach with the use of a trauma informed care, a
multidisciplinary approach that recognizes the potential that any
individual receiving care may have experienced a traumatic
event in the past. As part of a given interaction, an emphasis on
physical, psychological, and emotional safety is paramount and
the caregiver begins provisionally with the anticipation that a
trauma history may be present regardless of the individual's
stated reason for receiving care (Huckshorn & Lebel, [16]).
Most university counseling centers offer some level of trauma-
specific services in working directly with current or past
traumas (some quite extensive, depending upon the session
limits or orientation of the center). We recommend that
university counseling centers offer trauma-informed services

20. with a particular focus on relationship violence and sexual
assault screening and treatment. The first aspect of this focus is
attention to our communication with clients.
Communication during screening and first session
We posit that two elements are necessary to trauma-informed
work in university counseling centers, especially in regard to
relationship violence. The first is the addition of specific
questions on the clinic intake form that allow clients to indicate
past experiences of relational violence without making these the
sole focus of their current visit. Savage, Quiros, Dodd, and
Bonavota ([22]) indicate that:
Adding a trauma assessment to the already existing [intake]
assessment serves two purposes: it is an aid to inform staff of a
client's trauma experiences, and it opens the communication
with a client about her trauma experience, signaling that she
will be accepted and that her trauma experiences do not have to
set her apart. (p. 110)
In our experience a few brief, closed-ended questions regarding
relational violence have offered clinicians enough information
to move forward in sessions attuned to the impact of current or
previous relationship violence without causing visible or verbal
discomfort from clients. On the second page of our four-page
intake form we ask clients to indicate whether they have
experienced several issues with regard to mental health
concerns, mental health treatment, and relational violence.

21. These issues are listed in the Appendix.
In our form, this section is embedded between a demographic
section and information regarding the client's family and living
situation. This further situates these questions within a series of
facts about the client that can help orient clinicians. In this way
we can meet one of the challenges of a SFBT approach in a
university counseling center (i.e., the focus remains very much
on the present situation for the client) while still gathering
information to allow for trauma-informed practice.
The second element regarding trauma-informed treatment is to
follow-up on these questions after the initial intake without the
presumption that affirmative answers to questions involving
relationship violence are the main focus of the first session.
Savage and colleagues ([22]) advocate asking two brief, but
specific follow-up questions regarding traumatic interpersonal
violence: how often the traumatic event occurred (once, a few
times, or many times), and how old the individual was when the
traumatic event(s) occurred. If a client offers verbal or
nonverbal information regarding relational violence, the
clinician is better able to conceptualize how the trauma history
impacts current functioning, even when the trauma is not the
primary focus of treatment. However, clients should be offered
the option to decline answering these questions, and clinicians
should note and respect this choice.
In terms of specific communication that allows clients to

22. follow-up on past trauma experiences after the first session, we
advocate affiliation-building practices developed from
communication accommodation theory (Giles & Powesland,
[12]). This theory has four main aspects as identified by Giles
and colleagues ([13]). These include the following: (a) speakers
will signal empathy, "positive face" (i.e., indicating likability
and perceived competence in the other), and respect through
accommodating to the speaking patterns of their partner; (b)
that when such accommodations are perceived with positive
intent it will enhance the partner's satisfaction, self-esteem,
mutual understanding, and felt supportiveness from the speaker;
(c) that increasing divergence from the conversational partner
signals relational dissatisfaction, disaffection, or disrespect for
the conversational partner; and (d) that divergence attributed by
the conversational partner to have harmful intent will be
evaluated and reacted to negatively.
Thus, in all trauma-related sessions, therapists can strive to
accommodate to the client's verbal and nonverbal
communication, such as vocal intensity, turns of phrase,
posture, gestures, and even rates of silence. This can assist in
developing a felt sense of support and trust (Giles, [11]).
Though Grinder and Bandler ([15]) term a similar process
"mirroring," it is important to note that Giles ([11]) warns
against complete matching of the style of another, as it can lead
conversational partners to feel patronized or disrespected.

23. Moving toward the phrasing, topics, and nonverbal presentation
of a client while not fully matching them will come closer to the
"optimal" rate of accommodating (Giles, [11]).
Ferrera ([ 7]) indicates that in psychotherapy contexts
accommodation practices can be especially useful in creating
opportunities for reciprocal accommodation. By initially
matching the pace, tone, phrasing, and so forth of a client the
therapist is able to establish rapport and trust. The therapist
may then be able to engage in some well-considered divergence
from the client's topic or pace. Indeed:
Divergence may be adopted strategically in order to correct a
communicative stance in another such as by slowing down in
order to recalibrate an overly fast talker who is providing new
information at such a fast pace that the hearer cannot absorb it
comfortably. (Giles, [11], p. 165)
Using some slight divergence to slow the pace of a session can
help build space and relief for a client from the immediate
pressure to report difficult topics like the experience of
interpersonal violence, especially when it is coupled with
continued accommodation on other verbal and nonverbal
communication behaviors.
Slight divergence on the part of the therapist may offer the
benefit of modeling the possibility of safe, open, nonjudgmental
communication. Once rapport has been established in
interaction, slight communication divergence is more likely to

24. be perceived with positive or helpful intent (Giles et al., [13]).
Thus, the therapist may be able to inspire reciprocal
accommodation from the client if they tentatively move to
topics or terms that address the impact of interpersonal violence
in the first or subsequent sessions. This engages the paradox
noted by Ferrara ([ 7]), wherein "in psychotherapy language
serves as both the method of diagnosis and the medium of
treatment" (p. 187).
Observations from the last 2 years
Over the course of the 2014–2015 year, our counseling center
saw 1,051 individuals, 133 (11%) of whom reported a history of
unwanted sexual contact, experience of domestic/dating
violence, and/or experience of stalking behavior from a partner
or previous partner (See Table 1). Forty five of these students
experienced these events within the past year. In addition,
during the first year of this grant (2013–2014) there were 1,128
total students seen, with 60 individuals (5%) reporting
interpersonal violence. Twenty four of those individuals
reported a lifetime history of relational violence and 36
experienced victimization within the past year of intake.
Table 1. Survivors of Sexual Assault, Domestic/Dating
Violence, and Stalking Seen at the University Counseling
Center from July 1, 2014 Through June 30, 2015.
Type of Relational Violence
Experienced Within the Past Year

25. Lifetime Experience (Not Including the Past Year)
Unwanted sexual contact/sexual assault
20
73
Domestic/dating violence
21
37
Stalking
1
0
3 Note. Though 133 clients were seen within the year some
individuals fell in more than one category, as they had
experienced more than one form of relational violence or they
had experienced such violence both within the last year and also
in their past.
Reports of interpersonal violence were not the presenting
concern that drew individuals to counseling in the majority of
these cases, whether the violence was current or historical.
These adverse experiences often appeared as an important factor
in students' current level of functioning without being their
primary concern in the session. Clients who had experienced
relational violence predominantly presented with anxiety,
depression, a relational problem, or a phase of life problem (see
Table 2), and generally depression, anhedonia, decreased ability
to concentrate, anxiety, relationship problems and/or changes in

26. sleep or appetite patterns occur much more frequently than an
explicit presentation of interpersonal violence
Table 2. Diagnoses for Clients Who Had Experienced Sexual
Assault, Domestic/Dating Violence, and Stalking Seen at The
University Counseling Center from July 1, 2014 through June
30, 2015.
Presenting Concern
Number of Students Presenting with Concern
Anxiety
30
Depression
22
Relational Problem
15
Phase of Life Problem
15
Adjustment Disorder
11
Post-traumatic Stress Disorder
9
Bipolar Disorder (I or II)
7
Alcohol Dependence/Abuse
5
Cannabis Dependence/Abuse

27. 4
Eating Disorder
3
Panic Disorder
3
ADD/ADHD
3
Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder
2
Bereavement
2
Social Phobia
1
Dysthymia
1
Nicotine Dependence/Abuse
1
Cocaine Dependence/Abuse
1
Identity problem
1
Trichotillomania
1
4 Note. Though 133 clients were seen within the year not all
students were diagnosed with a disorder/v-code and some had

28. more than one diagnosis of concern. ADD/ADHD = attention
deficit disorder/attention deficit hyperactivity disorder.
Case study
Eric first arrived at our counseling center as a 20-year-old
visual arts student. Eric identified as Caucasian, gay, and from a
middle-upper class rural home with an intact parental
relationship. Eric began therapy at his own initiative, reporting
that many of his family members regularly sought counseling
throughout their lives to manage depression, bipolar disorder,
and panic disorder. Eric's presenting concern in our first session
was anxiety and family conflict, and he stated that his goal
would be to explore the family patterns and dynamics that
characterized his childhood and that he believed were still
shaping him strongly and adversely. Eric reported that in his
family of origin his mother's chronic illness and distress
trumped any adverse experiences that other family members
might have, and that the prevailing family norm had been to
present positively as a family (both within the family and in
their external presentation). Eric reported having difficulty
expressing his own needs and desires in his family, and
experienced anxiety regarding his attempts to differentiate in a
healthy way from his family of origin.
As part of his intake paperwork, Eric had completed the clinic
form (see Appendix) designed to record past mental health
issues and trauma. Eric answered affirmatively to the questions

29. asking if he had experienced unwanted sexual
contact/experiences, harassing/controlling/abusive behaviors,
and a situation that made him feel fear/helplessness/horror. Eric
indicated that these three experiences had all occurred more
than a year ago. Eric did not bring up these experiences at the
start of the first session, remaining focused on family conflict.
The therapist listened to the stories of family conflict and
reflected the emotional content of these conflicts evident in
Eric's descriptions. Approximately 30 minutes into the 50-
minute session the therapist checked with Eric to see if it was
acceptable to ask a few questions regarding his intake form,
with the goal of developing a fuller picture of how Eric arrived
in the session that day with his presenting goals. Eric was
reminded that he did not need to address any topics on the sheet
that he was not comfortable addressing in that session.
The therapist began with a few open-ended questions regarding
Eric's reports of moderate alcohol use and past mental health
treatment. Eric exhibited comfort responding to these questions
through his nonverbal reactions (relaxing into the chair,
speaking at moderate volume and pace, and appropriate eye
contact throughout questions and responses). With this response
noted, the therapist moved incrementally toward questions
regarding the historical experience of trauma/unwanted sexual
contact by gesturing to this section on the form and stating
"You've offered me some information here about your past

30. experiences. I'm wondering if you feel comfortable letting me
know more about your history with the unwanted or difficult
experiences you've noted here." Eric responded with some shift
in nonverbal behaviors (downcast eyes, increased pauses) and
much shorter sentences than his previous replies. Eric's change
in both his verbal and nonverbal behaviors were noted, and were
read by the therapist as indicative of shame, fear, or other form
of distress related to this trauma history. Eric stated that his
"no" had not always been respected during sexual intimacy in
the past. He then shifted to talking about how he had preserved
his virginity through early dating experiences in high school,
and that he continues today to be reserved in expressing himself
sexually in relationships. In this way Eric transitioned the
conversation to a point of positive face or competence, likely in
an effort to avoid the distress he associated with the trauma.
Eric further moved the topic back to his goal to focus on
himself and to liberate himself from troubling family dynamics
by linking his reserved nature back to his family of origin.
During this interaction the therapist continued exhibiting an
open posture oriented toward the client (choosing to diverge
somewhat to model openness rather than mirroring the client's
nonverbal withdrawal), though eye contact was not possible
with the client looking away. The therapist followed the client's
speaking pace and topic shift, offering a focus on Eric's positive
face along with empathy for Eric's previous trauma. This was

31. done with a brief summary statement paraphrasing Eric's mixed
experiences with sometimes being able to keep boundaries that
he wanted and sometimes not being heard when he set a
boundary. Then, the therapist emphasized that if Eric wanted to
continue at the clinic, the therapist could work with him on
examining these concerns in the relationships he chose to focus
on, with family appearing as the main concern of the moment.
Eric responded to these communicative moves by the therapist
with returned eye contact, and the verbal statement that he'd
like to focus on family. Eric's verbal and nonverbal
communication were read by the therapist as cues regarding his
readiness to address one level of distress (family dynamics) and
unwillingness/inability in that moment to access all levels (i.e.,
previous trauma). The hour was wrapped up with an overall
session recap, ending with the standard reminder offered in this
clinic that clients are usually seen for brief rather than ongoing
therapy, and that Eric was welcome to continue refining or
shifting what he wanted to work on during that time as other
needs became salient. During this ending to the session Eric
returned to a more relaxed posture and continued his eye
contact and verbal responsivity to the therapist, indicating that
some level of comfort and affiliation had been established
within the session.
Over the course of the next several sessions, Eric showed
rapport and openness with the therapist through a mix of

32. affiliative nonverbal signals and disclosive verbal statements
relating to his family. Topics covered included Eric's body
image and gender identity as shaped through interactions with
his mother, Eric's newly developed resistance to her
expectations of him, and Eric's conceptualization of his
psychological estrangement from his father. Consistent with a
SFBT approach, the focus broadly remained on "exception"
questions, such as when Eric was able to resist his mother's
views, was able to connect with his father, and was able to set
boundaries with which he felt comfortable. The therapist
continued to follow Eric's pace and topic choices, helping him
to elicit a preferred future and considering behavioral shifts that
would help move him in that direction. In the seventh session,
Eric returned to the feeling of not being heard by others, though
this was still in relation to his family. The therapist reflected:
"There have been a few times in your life that you haven't felt
heard or that your boundary hasn't been respected. What are you
thinking about in relation to this today?" Eric responded with a
metaphor of burners on a stove, stating that with recent changes
in claiming autonomy from his parents he had "turned down"
the burner representing distress in that relationship. This had
resulted in the "turning up" of a burner focused on his dating
relationships and what he desired to change there.
At this time Eric disclosed that 3 years ago he was sexually
assaulted by a male friend. He stated that he hadn't realized how

33. much that "episode" still affected him, and how hurt and
powerless he felt in that interaction. Eric spoke in detail about
the assault, recounting both physical and psychological wounds.
Contrary to the first session, where the assault was only alluded
to, this session was marked with direct verbal communication
about the assault as well as steady eye contact and body
orientation toward the therapist.
In accommodating to the client's communication pace, to the
terminology used to describe the "episode" and his "no" not
being heard, and to the overall content of his disclosures during
their early sessions, the therapist built affiliation and trust that
may have helped Eric feel comfortable addressing his previous
trauma in counseling. Strategic divergence from Eric's
communication also played a role here. Continued open
nonverbal behaviors when Eric withdrew (mainly through eye
contact and body posture) may have modeled openness that Eric
was able to enact in later sessions when he came back to the
topic of sexual assault. Gentle and brief validation of Eric's
experience as important (through verbal comments and
questions that gently redirected Eric toward the appropriateness
of discussing his own experience in session rather than solely
his mother's illness) were ways that the therapist accommodated
Eric but also diverged from past relational patterns that ignored
his needs and experiences.
Once Eric introduced his history of interpersonal violence in

34. session, the focus of therapy shifted to processing and framing
Eric's sense of self in relation to this assault (and, over time,
whether he wanted to label it as an "assault" instead of an
"episode") along with a continued emphasis of moving toward
his desired sense of self as someone who sets boundaries that
are respected. The therapist met with the client four more times
to consider this trajectory, as well as Eric's ambivalence
regarding his ability to make healthy choices in future
sexual/dating interactions. By the end of this time Eric reported
feeling more comfortable with his past, as well as feeling
increased confidence in his future choices. In the notes from the
last session the therapist wrote:
Eric continues to feel pride in and gratitude toward himself for
how far he has come in reorienting his view of himself and
relationships. Eric reports feeling more empowered to live in
possibility and make choices about which doors in life he opens
and which he closes.
Though necessarily brief in nature, this case study exemplifies a
common presentation of students in this counseling center over
the past 2 years. Notably, the presenting concerns were anxiety
and relational concerns rather than a focus on the experience of
interpersonal violence. Through trauma-related questions
embedded within the intake form and some open-ended inquiries
from the therapist, a history of interpersonal violence was
established and recognized. Through communication from the

35. therapist that largely converged with the client's own verbal and
nonverbal communication, accompanied with slight divergence
as rapport was established, the …
“Suddenly Everyone’s an Expert in Our Field”: Campus Victim
Advocates and the Promise and Perils of Professionalization
1. Sarah Jane Brubaker
2. Brittany Keegan
Abstract
Changes in how campuses respond to sexual assault under Title
IX may dramatically alter the experiences of survivors and the
roles of responders. This exploratory study examines how the
roles of campus-based sexual assault victim advocates are
changing and the effects on advocacy and survivors. Although
most advocates agree that Title IX has increased awareness and
reporting of sexual assault, they are concerned about the loss of
confidential outlets for reporting, conflicts with other
responders, and devaluation of their role. Some advocates see
professionalization as a solution, whereas others worry that
professionalization might negatively affect their ability to serve
survivors.
Keywords
1. campus victim advocates
2. campus sexual assault

36. 3. professionalization
1. 1Virginia Commonwealth University, Richmond, VA, USA
Corresponding author(s):
Sarah Jane Brubaker, L. Douglas Wilder School of Government
and Public Affairs, Virginia Commonwealth University, 1001 W
Franklin St., Raleigh Building, Room 2007A, P.O. Box 842028,
Richmond, VA 23284, USA. Email:
Introduction
Since the Department of Education’s Office for Civil Rights
(OCR) issued its Dear Colleague Letter (DCL) (), attention to
campus sexual assault has increased dramatically within
scholarly, practice, policy, and public arenas. Research on the
topic has filled special issues of journals focused on various
aspects of campus sexual assault, and large-scale studies and
campus climate surveys have attempted to accurately measure
its prevalence across campuses and among particular groups and
communities.
In the center of these developments are campus victim
advocates, who are in a unique position to observe, assess, and
participate in the response to campus sexual assault. Campus
advocates have always interacted with individuals in a number
of different roles and around a number of different processes,
both on campus and in the community, and they are typically
the responders closest to victims/survivors themselves. The

37. DCL has introduced new mandates, processes, and roles to
campus sexual assault response, and these have affected the
advocate role and how they serve victims. As the “voice” of
victims, advocates’ perspectives are critical to assessing and
understanding changes to the myriad services, roles, and
priorities of campus providers and policies and how they affect
victims. Given the increasing changes to how campuses
respond, the role of advocates is at an important juncture; their
experiences of campus sexual assault developments are largely
neglected in the literature, however.
This article begins to fill that void. Based on an exploratory
study using in-depth interviews with campus-based victim
advocates in the wake of new approaches to campus sexual
assault framed largely through a renewed application of Title
IX, the findings suggest that while advocates perceive a number
of positive consequences of Title IX as a framework for campus
response to sexual assault, they have also experienced
challenges both to defining their role and to serving survivors.
Adapting to new personnel and processes has required that they
clarify and redefine their roles. Advocates describe, for
example, an increasing number of individuals involved in
campus sexual misconduct, including police, Title IX officers,
attorneys, and community advocates, many of whom are
insufficiently trained to respond to survivors. They also
describe an ongoing and constant struggle to support survivors

38. in a context of an increasing administrative commitment to
compliance and mandated reporting and diminishing
commitment to confidentiality and survivor empowerment. As
their role, expertise, and training are compared with those of
Title IX officers and attorneys, advocates must work to not only
support and defend the rights and needs of survivors, but they
must also defend their own competence, expertise, and
professional value. In response to these dynamics, some
advocates look to the promise of professionalizing the role in
hopes that more formal credentialing and licensing processes
will enhance their value, credibility, and authority, while others
fear that such a move would compromise the integrity of the
profession as well as undermine survivors’ interests.
In this article, we focus on the study’s findings regarding
impacts of Title IX’s framing of campus sexual assault on
advocates’ roles and their ability to serve and support survivors,
contributing to the literatures on campus sexual assault and
advocacy in general. We then further examine the prospect of
professionalizing the field of advocacy, a theme that emerged
during the study, analyzing our findings using theoretical
concepts of professionalization from public administration, as
well as feminist critiques of the professionalization of other
female-dominated fields. We conclude with a discussion of
potential benefits and drawbacks of professionalization for
campus-based advocacy and recommendations for policy,

39. practice, and future research.
Title IX and Campus Sexual Assault
Since the DCL reiterated the Title IX enforcement of campus
sexual assault, attention to the problem has intensified in a
number of areas. Not only has research on the topic of sexual
assault increased and expanded, the ways practitioners are
addressing the problem on campuses have changed as well ().
Researchers have attempted to measure the prevalence and
frequency of sexual assault (see, for example, ; ; ; ), find
accurate definitions (e.g., ), and confront measurement
challenges (e.g., ; ). Studies have addressed reasons why
victims do not report, ranging from those applying to the
general population, such as uncertainty whether sexual assault
occurred, concerns about confidentiality, and fear of retaliation
and of being blamed (; ), to those specific to members of
marginalized communities, such as concerns about losing a
community’s support and reinforcing negative stereotypes
(; ; ; ; ), as well as mistrust of formal systems that have
historically revictimized them (; ; ; ).
Some researchers have examined the perspectives of those in
specific roles that are addressing sexual assault on campuses,
including campus police (), administrators (), sexual assault
nurse examiners (), and counselors (). , for example, provides a
“discussion on several organizational prevention and response
dimensions of our colleges and universities” (p. 166) informed

40. by interviews conducted with Title IX coordinators and other
campus administrators. The main themes suggest that the
myriad changes to how campuses are addressing sexual assault
have created a number of challenges to creating meaningful
changes to campus culture and processes. The article addresses
a number of campus processes that focus on compliance,
including investigations, conduct codes, adjudication, and
others, suggesting that these new mandates are often at odds
with the “victim-centered response,” typically emphasized by
advocates, and new to many campus personnel.
describe the importance of myriad victim services that
campuses provide, including several types of advocacy, but to
date there has been limited published research (for an
exception, see ) on campus sexual assault victim advocates in
the wake of the DCL. In the absence of a larger body of
literature specific to campus advocates, we next review
literature focused on victim advocacy in general.
Advocacy
There are many types of advocacy that occur in a wide range of
settings and at multiple levels (). In the community, victim
advocates might have specific roles, for example, legal/court
advocacy () or medical advocacy (). In addition, some campuses
have legal advocacy programs that employ law student
volunteers, and others offer more comprehensive advocacy
services (; ).

41. On campuses, advocates assist survivors, including students,
faculty, and staff, by providing emotional support and
information regarding on-campus and community-based
resources such as counseling or crisis intervention, by ensuring
that survivors are aware of their options for accessing medical
care, and, if the survivor wishes to file a report, by helping
them navigate the reporting process (). Advocates may also
accompany survivors to appointments, meetings, or hearings as
needed. Historically, they have been exempt from having to
report instances of sexual misconduct to the university and/or
law enforcement, thus providing a confidential resource for
those seeking help (). Many are also engaged in education and
prevention.
There is general agreement regarding the importance of victim
advocates on campuses. For example, a study of campus
administrators’ perceptions of “ideal environments” in terms of
prevention of and response to sexual assault found that
respondents identified the participation of advocates as critical
(). One of the most important campus sexual assault policies
and practices that make victims more likely to report and follow
through with charges is the presence of a trained advocate ().
A consistent finding regarding advocacy work is that it can
create stress and emotional fatigue (). According to and , there
is a strong emotional element to rape work that requires
emotion management to cope with the distress, discomfort, and

42. anger of the role and responsibilities. equates such stressors
with “secondary victimization,” which advocates can encounter
when working with medical providers and others in the health
care system, as well as in the criminal justice and legal systems,
where providers might respond to survivors with stereotypes,
disbelief, and judgmental attitudes. An additional dimension of
stress comes from the constant conflict faced by advocates
between supporting and defending the needs of survivors and
complying with the organization’s policies that may not
prioritize those needs. For example, suggests that “[v]ictims’
advocates are, by their very nature whistle blowers, and large
bureaucratic entities will generally serve to undermine the
effectiveness of employees whose role or job duties bring them
in conflict with the employer” (p. 294). also describes the
emotional toll of working with survivors, but points out that
this can be experienced by those in many campus roles beyond
advocates, who may not be well trained in how to address the
trauma experienced by victims.
This study was designed to help fill voids in the campus sexual
assault and advocacy literatures by examining the experiences
of campus-based sexual assault advocates. In addition to themes
of specific challenges that Title IX has brought to campus
advocacy, the theme of professionalization as a potential
solution to challenges emerged frequently from the interviews
as an important finding. To contextualize our analysis of that

43. theme, in the next section we provide a discussion of major
concepts related to professionalization that may also be applied
to advocacy work.
Professionalization
Training, Professional Standards, and Expertise
Early scholars described a profession as “a vocation founded
upon specialized educational training, the purpose of which is
to supply disinterested objective counsel service to others, for a
direct and definite compensation, wholly apart from expectation
of other business gain” (p. 26). Although some aspects of
Webbs’s definition, such as the need for specialized training,
are still seen as crucial elements of professionalization, the
need for “disinterested” service provision is no longer
frequently mentioned in the literature. Many modern scholars
advocate, in fact, for professionals to have an intrinsic desire to
work in the public service realm and to aim to make a positive
contribution to society (). Scholars have also noted the
importance of professionals meeting a clear-cut societal need
(; ; ), which may in turn increase their perceived value.
Within a given field, the question of “who are the experts?”
may also arise. In most instances, individuals with the highest
level of education or training are seen as the experts. Like ,
modern scholars, including , , and , have noted the importance
of training and have expanded on this requirement to include
the implementation of professional standards and licensing

44. requirements for professionals. In other cases, and often a major
criticism of professionalization (especially with female-
dominated fields such as advocacy), high levels of formalized
education and training do not necessarily lead to expertise, and
“experts” may sometimes claim to have authority in fields about
which they have little to no knowledge ().
We can also look to professionalization in other female-
dominated fields, such as social work, to better understand how
professionalization may affect campus victim advocates. found
that a lack of professional standards among social workers, for
example, led to a decrease in public recognition of the field.
They also found that many social workers wished for more
training and networking opportunities, and information sharing
to help build capacity. Thus, professional standards, training,
and collaboration may be helpful to social workers, advocates,
and other care workers.
Ethics, Trust, and Confidentiality
Some scholars have discussed creating a code of ethics to guide
professionals in their role (; ; ; ), and argues for a definition of
professionalization that is based on confidentiality and trust.
Because advocates are confidential resources and because trust
will play a role in a survivor’s decision to report (), these three
concepts of professionalization—ethics, confidentiality, and
trust—are relevant to the field of advocacy.
Another example of professionalization in social work suggests

45. implications for advocacy. suggests that social workers, like
advocates, place a high value on trust, reliability, nonjudgment,
and being open with those they support. When social workers
exemplified these traits and built open and trusting
relationships, clients indicated that they valued the work done
by the social workers and that they were satisfied with their
care ().
These literatures contextualize our exploratory study, the goal
of which was to better understand how the framing of sexual
assault through Title IX is affecting the advocate role. The
primary research questions were, first, how do campus victim
advocates currently perceive and experience their role on
college campuses? And second, how have developments around
Title IX shaped those perceptions? The theme of potential
prospects for professionalizing the field of advocacy that
emerged from the data prompted an additional research question
that we explore in this article: How might efforts to
professionalize the field of advocacy address some of the
challenges they are facing and change how they perceive and
fulfill their role of serving and supporting survivors on college
campuses in positive and negative ways?
Method
Recruitment
This exploratory study is based on analysis of in-depth open-
ended interviews with 15 campus-based victim advocates from

46. across the United States. We employed two purposive sampling
techniques, convenience and snowball, to recruit participants.
One strategy was to ask participants in an earlier survey of
campuses’ enforcement of new state laws () to agree to be
interviewed. A second strategy was to share an announcement
about the study via a campus advocacy list-serve and at the
2016 NASPA (Student Affairs Administrators in Higher
Education) Strategies conference (). Some participants recruited
other advocates. The small sample size reflects primary findings
that advocates are overburdened with rising reports of sexual
assault and understaffed offices, and the tense political climate
around campus sexual assault has prompted some administrators
to discourage personnel from discussing the issue. Several
advocates shared that although they wanted to participate in the
study, they were explicitly forbidden from doing so by their
supervisors.
Data Collection
The interview guide was developed to focus on advocates’
training, background and approaches, their work environments,
and their experiences doing advocacy on campus before and
since the DCL went into effect. Questions also focused on
changes to their role, what they liked and disliked about
advocacy, what they thought campuses should be doing to
address sexual assault, and their thoughts on the future of
advocacy. The questions were reviewed by advocates who

47. provided suggestions for both content and wording. Semi-
structured, one-on-one interviews lasted between 30-80 min and
were conducted by the first author in person, via telephone, or
via teleconference between January and May 2016. They were
audio recorded and transcribed.
Participants
A total of 15 advocates participated in the study. Most
campuses are experiencing higher numbers of reports and are
implementing new processes, making it difficult for advocates
to find time to be interviewed. In addition, the nature of their
work requires advocates to be available to respond to survivors
immediately; a number of advocates scheduled interviews that
they had to cancel to serve a client. Those who were able to
participate, though fewer than ideal, provided detailed and
thoughtful accounts of their experiences. While we cannot claim
that the data fully reached saturation, we did see largely similar
themes emerge from the data regarding challenges that Title IX
had brought to campus advocates and their ability to serve
survivors.
Here, we provide a general overview of the demographic
characteristics of the participants and campuses, but we do not
connect quotes to participants in an effort to protect their
identities and ensure confidentiality. Fourteen participants self-
identified as female, woman or cisgender woman. One identified
as a man. Twelve identified as White, one as Black, one as

48. Latina, and one as biracial (Hispanic and White). Participants
ranged in age from 26-50. Eleven identified as straight or
heterosexual, and four as queer or bisexual.
Almost all of the advocates had at least a master’s degree. One
had a PhD, another a JD, two were working on PhDs, and one
was completing an MSW. Most of the degrees were in social
science fields, education, or public administration. Years of
experience across participants varied, ranging from 2-16 years
on a campus and from 2-24 years working in the community, in
domestic violence or sexual assault organizations. All but one
advocate had worked in a community setting before working on
a campus, and most had substantial experience as interns or
volunteers in crisis intervention, responding to hotlines, and so
on.
Advocates identified a number of ideological and philosophical
approaches that they bring to their positions, most describing
some version of a survivor-/victim-centered or trauma-informed
approach. Several embraced a “social justice” or “feminist”
model, and a few described an “empowerment” model, where
the focus is on empowering victims to make their own decisions
regarding services and response. Those with stronger
community backgrounds tended to embrace the most
“progressive” ideals of empowerment and social justice.
Most (73%) of the advocates worked on large campuses (defined
as greater than 11,000 students); three worked on campuses with

49. between 5,000-10,000 students, and one worked on a campus
with fewer than 5,000 students. Ten described their campuses as
urban, one as rural, two as suburban, and two as some
combination of these types. Ten institutions were public and
five were private. Advocates were located across eight states,
from every geographic region of the continental United States.
Analysis
Employing a basic inductive and iterative thematic coding
approach, we coded the transcribed interviews through a
constant comparison process incorporating open and axial
coding and clustering methods, and memoing to identify and
explore themes. We looked for patterns across themes and
identified quotes that helped to support major claims. We also
used a priori concepts from the professionalization and
advocacy literature to analyze relevant themes. To enhance the
validity of the analysis, both authors participated in the coding
process independently, and we met to discuss and come to
agreement around the themes. We discussed the emergent
themes with advocates who participated in the study, as well as
with others working in the field. The analysis yielded thick
descriptions of how advocates perceive Title IX’s framing of
campus sexual assault and changes to their roles.
Findings
Similar to those in study, the advocates who participated in this
study agreed that Title IX has increased awareness of and

50. attention to sexual assault, and many also felt that their
visibility and participation in campus processes had been
enhanced through this attention. One advocate offered, “. . . it’s
easier to advocate for certain things now that there’s attention
to [sexual assault].” Another explained, “I think [sexual
assault’s] part of the discourse a lot more than it used to be. It
was a topic people avoided.” Yet another offered that he
believed that Title IX had brought more credibility to everyone
doing anti-violence work.
According to the participants, prior to the DCL, much of the
work of campus responses to sexual assault was done by
advocates, with some formally reported cases handled by
campus police and/or campus judicial boards. Since the issuing
of the DCL, the requirement to staff Title IX offices and adhere
to Title IX processes has shifted the focus and provided a
counterpoint to, and shined a light on, advocacy. This has had
positive and negative impacts on the field. While campuses have
always had individuals serving in a Title IX capacity, they have
historically been housed in human resources departments and
focused on employee relations. The DCL brought Title IX to
campus sexual assault in a new and comprehensive way and
communicated guidelines requiring that many more individuals
were trained in responding to sexual misconduct. The specific
changes advocates discussed were (a) the hiring of new staff,
typically attorneys, into Title IX officer and coordinator

51. positions and (b) the requirement that all campus employees,
including faculty, become mandated reporters of sexual
misconduct experienced by students. While these changes
increased awareness of and attention to campus sexual assault,
typically viewed positively by advocates, they also created
problems in terms of confusion for students about confidential
sources and where to turn for help, different and sometimes
conflicting goals and expertise across roles, and the
involvement of individuals in campus processes who were not
always sufficiently trained. Several advocates also shared that
the changes had diverted resources from prevention and
advocacy to the compliance-focused Title IX processes.
Below we discuss these themes in terms of how the advocate
role is being (re)defined on campuses through their
relationships with other responders and how changes brought
through the DCL create challenges to advocates’ ability to
provide services to survivors.
(Re)Defining the Advocate Role and Relationships With Others
Several participants noted challenges to role clarity since the
DCL went into effect. For example, one advocate described
their role as being “cobbled together” with overlapping roles.
Because of new regulations, some advocates began to take on
additional roles and responsibilities. Multiple roles related to
campus sexual assault response have also been added or
expanded in light of Title IX guidance. One advocate lamented,

52. . . . a lot more people are in the decision-making process so
there are a lot more difficult parts, right? Suddenly everyone’s
an expert in our field in a way that maybe people didn’t care
before, so they weren’t voicing their opinions . . .
Below we discuss advocates’ experiences with these new and
changed roles and how they have required them to continue to
clarify and define the advocate role.
Title IX officers.
Advocates reported that their relationships with Title IX
officers were generally positive. One participant described how
they felt that their Title IX officers understood and were
invested in the work carried out by advocates; others described
how Title IX officers were supportive of advocates and would
serve as advisors when needed. Although not something
experienced by participants of this study, some advocates did
note that they had heard of other advocates who did not have
positive experiences with their Title IX officers. Two
participants, for example, indicated that their campus Title IX
officers had previously served as advocates, so they were
particularly sensitive to and supportive of advocacy:
Our Title IX coordinator is a former colleague of mine . . . so I
think we are incredibly blessed to have someone who comes
from victim advocacy perspective. . . . I know a lot of my
colleagues are struggling within their Title IX offices . . . it
makes a difference who that Title IX person is and whether they

53. have training.
Campus and community police.
Advocates shared that new mandated reporting requirements
have increased the involvement in campus sexual assault cases
of both on-campus and off-campus police officers, and their
experiences with police officers were mixed. One advocate
described an experience in which a police officer entered the
room when they were meeting with a survivor “like they were
the Terminator,” which the advocate felt had retraumatized the
survivor and prevented them from providing sufficient support.
In general, advocates experienced more negative experiences
with community police, who were less likely to receive training
specific to Title IX or trauma-informed responses, than with
campus police. One advocate reflected, “The campus law
enforcement people that I have worked with are light years
ahead of the local ones in terms of understanding sexual
violence.”
Community-based advocates.
Smaller campuses that cannot afford to hire their own advocates
often contract with community-based organizations for
advocacy, and even larger campuses have been creating
memoranda of understanding (MOUs) with community
organizations to provide additional advocacy services (). While
these arrangements were sometimes experienced positively by
participants, others described conflicts in these relationships

54. and shared that they were aware of perceptions among
community-based advocates that campus-based advocates were
not able to truly support survivors because they are employed
by the university. Community advocates felt that campus
advocates were beholden to the universities’ processes and
goals, regulated by Title IX, and that their loyalty to their
employer was stronger than their loyalty to survivors. For
example, one advocate shared, “[Community providers] have
been going around campus telling administrators that we’re a
liability to the university, that they should be contracting out,
that I’m not a real advocate because I’m not working under the
rape crisis center.” Another shared an ongoing source of
conflict that challenged her work: “Community advocates
saying ‘oh you shouldn’t trust your campus advocates because
at the end of the day the school pays them and they’re only
loyal to the school’.”
Some participants shared that community advocates tend to
think their training is better than that provided on campus in
terms of commitment to the survivor, and one community
agency even refused to train campus-based advocates because
they viewed them as more beholden to the university than to the
survivors. On the contrary, some advocates shared that
community advocates and mental health counselors who meet
with survivors typically lack sufficient understanding of Title
IX policies and procedures to serve and support students.

55. The conflicts with community advocates represent an ongoing
problem encountered by advocates and others doing anti-
violence work from a social justice and feminist perspective
who also must work within larger systems (). For example, one
advocate explained, “We put forth the best interest of the
survivor even if it’s against the best interest of the university.”
This tension was a constant source of stress for many advocates
as one lamented, “It’s unfortunate as a profession we have to go
to work everyday and decide if we are going to do what’s best
for the student, or are we going to keep our jobs.” Advocates
in study reported similar tensions and struggles, which Moylan
described as “victim-insensitive decisions.”
Devaluation of Advocacy
One consequence of the increased involvement of Title IX
officers and other campus responders to campus sexual …
Interpersonal Violence on College Campuses: Understanding
Risk Factors and Working to Find