In Sept. 2014, standing outside a party talking with friends, a young man approached me and aggressively grabbed my crotch. Drunk and in shock, I said “No!” and stumbled back from him. He sneered at me and then slipped around the side of the house back into the night.

Later, I learned that before he groped me, he had also stuck his hands down another woman’s shirt and pants. I don’t know his name, and I never reported the incident. Neither did the other woman. This event didn’t traumatize me; most days I don’t think about it. I know that many, many women have experienced far worse.

And yet, I will never forget that night. Though it was no more than 10 seconds of my life, in that moment, I felt utterly powerless. I was reminded that my bodily autonomy means nothing to men who choose to violate it.

Though this story is fairly benign as far as sexual assault goes, I have a thousand more stories I could tell. It is a lifetime of bodily violations, all kept secret. Another drop in the bucket, another reminder that my body is not my own. I tell this story because all women have these stories, and we cannot keep quiet anymore. The silence is killing us.

I tell this story because I cannot tell the stories of my friends and my peers. Their stories and their truths belong to them, and them alone. But know that for every story you’ve heard about sexual assault, I have heard it a thousand times over. All women have. We tell each other these secrets in the dark, speaking in hushed tones, ashamed.

We recount all the ways that our bodies have been violated, and we comfort each other, wiping away tears and holding hands, saying over and over, “It is not your fault, it is not your fault. It is not your fault.” This is a routine I am well-versed in. All women are.

I am tired of bonding over our sexual assaults. I have spent countless hours with friends as they process the violations done to their bodies, and I know that I will spend many more hours doing the same painful work. A lifetime of violations, a lifetime of recovery: all women understand this.

It is time that men understood this, too. I wonder, in those moments when a man decides that a woman’s body is his to touch, to grope, to rape, I wonder if he thinks of all of the hours that will be spent crying, comforting, and recovering. Obviously, he does not. How could he, when he was taught that he is entitled to women and that their feelings mean nothing?

So, I have shared my story, and I have promised that there are a thousand more. What can be done about it? It is clear that colleges are woefully inept at adjudicating sexual assault, and in my case, I didn’t even report. Then who is to blame for the unrelenting assault on women? We are.

For every woman who has a story, there are people who doubt her, who tell her that it was her fault. There are people on this campus who choose to actively support rapists instead of standing behind the victim/survivor.

Associating with rapists is a choice. Make no mistake, every time we learn the name of a perpetrator, and we choose to attend parties with him or his fraternity, we are siding with rapists. We are condoning their behavior, and we are condoning violence against women. I cannot imagine a campus culture supporting fraternities that abuse children; why we actively support fraternities that abuse women, I will never know.

One such fraternity on this campus routinely sexually assaults women. As I previously stated, these women’s stories are their own, and it is not for me to share them. However, the truth is that when I hear these stories from friends and peers, one fraternity is named over and over again. I don’t have to print its name here, you’ve heard it before in previous discussions on sexual assault. After the truth has come out, every single fraternity and sorority on this campus associating with this particular fraternity is complicit in tolerating their behavior towards women. This is unacceptable.

What do you stand for? What do you believe in? I believe in a culture where there is no shame in being a victim of sexual assault. I believe in a culture that shames rapists and everyone who supports them. I believe in the women, all of us, who have survived a lifetime of violations, and who refuse to be silent a single day longer.

Some mistakenly believe that a woman’s silence is consent. The truth is that our silence, when we choose to socialize with rapists, is consent to the violence perpetrated against women. Our silence is our consent, so I will not be silent anymore.

It is uncomfortable to speak about sexual assault, and it is painful to reflect on the ways we support rapists. Changing culture is a difficult process. However, the alternative, to remain silent, to remain complicit, is no longer a viable option. Women are telling their stories and their truths. Will you listen?