A Letter to the Yale Administration

To Stephanie Spangler, M.D., Deputy Provost for Health Affairs and Academic Integrity,

               My name is Tara Tyrrell. I was a member of Saybrook College, class of 2012. A first-generation Yalie, I grew up in a small mountain town in Tennessee, the only child of a small-business family. When I matriculated, the promise that Yale made to me that I would be given a lifetime of opportunities, a wealth of knowledge, and the equal honor and respect afforded to every student (regardless of my background, gender, race, or religion), felt like one I could count on. However, the report that the University released this week qualifying rape as “nonconsensual sex” and making it clear that the usual punishment for such an offense is a verbal slap on the wrist has made it quite clear to me that my faith in that promise was very foolish, indeed.

                One clear night, during the winter of my sophomore year, I was sexually assaulted just steps away from my dorm room. Another student in my college approached me outside of my entryway and struck up a conversation as I was heading home from a friend’s birthday party. We had a friendly, fun conversation, and at the end I bade him goodnight and told him I was going to bed. In that instant, the entire tone of our interaction changed and he said, firmly and confidently, “You’re not going anywhere.”

                For such a big college, Saybrook can be awfully quiet at times. That night we were the only two in the courtyard. I was afraid to scream because I thought he might hurt me, so I did the only thing I could do: I fought. He blocked the doorway; his grip was iron. I honestly don’t even remember what combination of kicking, struggling, and running finally got me through the door and up the stairs, but it didn’t matter: as another Saybrook student, he had access to my entryway. He screamed up at me as I fled, “BITCH!” I made it to a room full of my male friends, a floor up from my room, and started bawling.

                He followed me. He went room to room, seeking me out. He even opened the door to the room I was hidden in, but he didn’t see me and left without a word. When he didn’t find me, he broke into my common room (my roommate was also having a birthday party, so there were still a few guests left) and stood in the corner, silently terrifying my roommates. He was still there, waiting for me, when the campus police came to take him away. In all my life, I’ve never slept so badly as I did that night. I woke up every few minutes, counting the hours until the morning when I could call my family.

                Thankfully, everyone in my community was supportive and kind. The police were protective and aggressive with my attacker when they escorted him out of my room. My friends had the presence of mind to call the police when I was too shaken up to think. My dean was horrified, and he gave me every option available to me to make things right. Did I want to switch colleges? Did I want him to switch? Did I want to file an official complaint and take the steps necessary to possibly expel him? In the end, I decided I wanted him to receive mandatory counseling to prevent such things from happening to anyone else. I was upset, but I didn’t want to ruin his life. My dean told me later that my attacker’s story had matched mine perfectly, and that he was absolutely willing to do what it took to manage his anger. It made me feel better, even though I still had to see him in my dining hall every night.

                When I reflect on that time, I applaud the Yale community for doing exactly what needed to be done. My wonderful friends, my protective police, and my supportive and serious dean were all instrumental in helping me to receive the help and closure I needed. My fellow student, as disturbed as he may have been, submitted willingly and remorsefully to an attempt to change and grow. That memory perfectly exemplifies the Yale that I fiercely love and admire. Which is why it absolutely devastates me to know that, for one reason or another, my experience was an anomaly.

                The administration has made it quite clear, both with the report you released and the way you conducted yourselves during the Title IX investigation, that no amount of media attention, outcry from students, or pressure to exemplify the moral integrity that you pretend to hold dear will make you take action for the women you made hollow promises to respect. You do not grant us the protection and honor due to us as members of the Yale community. In our hours of darkness, you provide us with no Lux, and you seek no Veritas of your own. The truth is yours to distort as you see fit, at the expense of your students and your reputation.

                Why? I wish I knew for certain. I suspect that it has a lot to do with the only language it seems you respect: the language of money and influence. Perhaps those six men in the last year (and several more the year previous) who committed their heinous acts of aggression, assault, and “nonconsensual sex”, as you so delicately put it, were men of stature and connection. It is a poorly kept secret that you falsely elevate the academic standing of such students, so why not ease their criminal sentences as well? Or perhaps you were afraid of the backlash you might receive from your older, traditionally male donors when you ejected those young men from Yale for one little mistake. Perhaps you were too busy doing something more important than protecting over half of your student body from harm, so you had a low-level employee write a few form letters of reprimand to these rapists and went about your days with a clean conscience. It doesn’t really matter. For whatever reason, you have failed. You are a disgrace to your reputation, your crest, and the tradition of higher education. You have no respect for the men or women who grace your halls who might at any moment become victims of inexcusable abuse.

                Your decisions have made it clear that my only course of action to get through to you is to speak to you using words concerning money and influence. So my pledge is this: until you address this egregious misconduct on the parts of yourselves and the monsters you protect, you will not see any donations from me. Not one cent. Ever. Nothing. I know that I am do not have the fortune that many of my fellow alumni will amass, but I had sincerely intended to pay back the full amount of financial aid given to me as a student, bit by bit, as soon as I was financially able. That will no longer be happening. I know that it means fewer funds for a student like myself who needs aid to attend the University, but I honestly don’t see a different solution to the problem that might actually make you take note. I hope that other alumni follow suit; I know I am not the only one with this intention. Furthermore, when I decide to have children, be they male or female, they will not be Bulldogs. I love them too much to put them in such a callous and dangerous environment as one who lets sexual criminals go free with little disciplinary action. The thought of seeing them wearing anything other than Yale blue breaks my heart, but you have left me no choice.

May God and Country have mercy on you. I am certain that I will not.

Sincerely,

Tara Tyrrell, SY 2012