CornellIf you open Instagram right now, you’ll see them, over and over again. The faces of the seven former Cornell students accused of drugging, assaulting and gang raping a female classmate, identified only as Jane Doe.
But that’s not all you’ll find.
Scroll and you’ll see women sharing infographics, their outrage, their experiences; tearing open wounds, taking on the educational labour – yet again – in a powerful act of opposing male violence.
You’ll find women telling other women that they believe her, and talking about rape culture, because for us, sexual violence isn’t a new story. After all, the latest ONS figures for England and Wales estimate that 739,000 women aged 16+ experienced sexual assault in the year ending March 2025.
We’re encouraged to raise men who aren’t rapists, keep an eye on our drinks, call our friends on our walk home, ask for Angela, dress a certain way, make sure we don’t lead anyone on, do all we can to avoid anything that could lead to us one day being told ’well, what did you expect?’.
As all of this unfolds on my timeline in front of me, I can’t help but come back to the same questions: Where are all the outraged men? And, more importantly, where is the equivalent conversation among them about why this keeps happening?
Somewhere along the line, publicly opposing male violence has become a woman’s job.
I’m not saying that there aren’t any men sharing infographics or having these conversations in private – of course there are. But when we get down to it and look at the conversations being had publicly online about this particularly harrowing story, there isn’t the same level of mass mobilisation among men as I’m seeing among women.
Where are the men saying: ‘hey, this is what I’d say in my group chat’, ‘this is what I’m teaching my sons’, ‘this is what I’m going to do differently’?
There is no landslide of male commentary surrounding the Cornell Seven, just women shouting that ‘yeah, we know this shit happens, we’ll never stop being outraged, we’ll never stop fighting for justice’.
And that silence is dangerous.
During the alleged hours-long assault, a message was sent to 57-member-strong fraternity Snapchat group titled Chi Phi Actives, telling them there was ‘free pussy’ upstairs, according to the lawsuit.
This horrific story isn’t just about what those seven male students allegedly did, it’s also about what the other men in that chat may have known, seen and didn’t do. It’s about the culture that allowed that message to be sent in the first place.
Why are women expected to publicly denounce male violence, while men aren’t privately challenging it? In a world where male voices dominate every field, this is the one where they decide to stay schtum.
I’m not saying that every man has to make or share an Instagram post (truly the lowest level of effort, the bar is so low it’s in hell) but men need to start making male violence a conversation subject. They need to speak up – as Lee Chambers, founder of gender equity consultancy Male Allies UK, told us: speaking up is a “core skill of allyship”.
Challenging male violence needs to become a male responsibility. Women are sick of being the comms team.
Sharing an infographic is risk-free. Calling out your misogynistic mate though? Awkward. Uncomfortable. Killing the vibe.
But is it as uncomfortable as living your life fearing rape? Or worrying that your friend might not make it home from a night out?
Sure, not all men, but we don’t know which one. Sure, not all men, but probably someone you know. You might have even seen the signs. Laughed at the joke. Brushed it off.
It’s not enough anymore to not be one of the ‘bad ones’. Great, well done you, but what are you doing about the ones that are? Why is calling out your mates a radical act? It needs to be normalised.
Because do you know what else is normalised? The fact that every single woman has a story.
Women already know how to have this conversation, now it’s your turn to lead it.
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