Tue. Nov 19th, 2024

IT STARTED IN graduate school with seemingly innocuous comments about my appearance. A passing remark about how I looked, my tights one day, comments about my skin or my height the next.

These remarks felt small, but they began to add up, creating constant anxiety.  

My anxiety worsened when I felt I was being “watched.” One day during class, I stepped outside to do some work with colleagues. Within moments, a student followed me into the hallway. I couldn’t escape his gaze, confirmed by several classmates who texted me later during class.  

“He is STARING,” one message read. “I so saw that coming, omg,” said another. The dread of these interactions began to weigh heavily on me, triggering anxiety attacks before class, and in some cases, preventing me from attending. I felt powerless.  

I shared some of my experiences with one of my professors, believing that we were simply having a casual conversation. To my surprise, he told me that he was officially a “responsible employee” and was required to report our conversation to the university’s Title IX office.  

I felt like throwing up. That’s not what I wanted. What I wanted was a supportive chat, not to be caught up in the complexities of university protocols and bureaucracy.  

My story, once mine to tell, was taken from me. The powerlessness and harassment I endured surged to new depths, all because of two words: “responsible employee.” 

According to the US Department of Education, a responsible employee is anyone with the “authority to take action to redress the harassment, who has the duty to report to appropriate school officials sexual harassment or any other misconduct by students or employees, or an individual who a student could reasonably believe has this authority or responsibility.”  

Under new Title IX regulations – which took effect at all higher education institutions on August 1 – the definition of who must serve as a responsible employee has been expanded to include even more people. All employees, except for a chosen few (such as counselors, health center staff, and some religious life members), are now required to report possible cases of harassment. Not only are they required to report relevant facts to the university, but identifying information – including names of the victim, alleged perpetrator, and any witnesses – as well.  

Victims, including me, who do not want their experiences reported to the university have no voice in this matter, fundamentally stripping us of our autonomy.  

The concept of “mandated reporters” is hardly new. A long list of professionals, including physicians, public and private school teachers, and day care providers, are required by law to report suspected cases of child abuse or neglect to the state’s child protection agency.  

While the rationale for mandated reporting concerning minors is clear and obvious, reporting on cases involving adults is far more nuanced and requires a deeper understanding of whether the person being confided in is a mandated reporter. 

Supporters of the new mandated reporting policies believe that increasing reports will enable universities to investigate and remedy more cases of sexual harassment, in turn, protecting victims, employees, and universities at large.  

Despite this belief, there is very little evidence to suggest that these policies help. In fact, these reporting policies are not consistent with the research on what causes harm versus healing. “A fundamental principle of trauma-informed responses to sexual assault and harassment is empowerment, voice, and choice, and regaining a sense of control is essential to recovery,” says Kathryn Holland, an associate professor of psychology and women’s and gender studies at the University of Nebraska.  

When this control is taken away from victims, there is an increase in post-traumatic stress, depression, and in my case, anxiety.  

To avoid an investigation, I submitted a form to my university’s Title IX office indicating that I did not wish to pursue any inquiry. This helped restore some of the control I felt I had lost and seemed to resolve the issue. However, it still added an unnecessary layer of stress (and stomach aches) to an already anxiety-inducing situation. 

Massachusetts stands out as a leader in higher education. As such, the state has a responsibility to ensure that all students in the Commonwealth have safe access to the same high-quality level of education. Yet mandated reporting policies prevent this from happening.  

Massachusetts universities that blindly follow these policies are prioritizing their own institutional compliance over genuinely supporting their students. To truly support students, universities need to better inform them about who is a mandatory reporter. Studies have shown that most students lack knowledge about their universities’ mandated reporting policies. That must change.  

Compliance with federal regulations is important, but it must be balanced with a commitment to enhancing educational and outreach efforts. Universities should consider requiring that professors indicate their status as mandatory reporters on their course syllabi or online university profiles.  

My own experience has shown me the deep emotional toll and sense of powerlessness that can come from mandated reporting. Massachusetts universities must move beyond mere compliance with federal regulations to actively listen to the voices of those directly affected by these policies.  

It is crucial to clearly identify who is a mandatory reporter and who is not. Ideally, we should develop a system that not only supports healing and recovery but also guarantees that every student has the chance to learn in a safe and respectful environment. 

Katherine Pingeton completed her master’s degree in public policy at the University of Massachusetts Amherst in 2023. She was a fellow with the Civic Action Project, a Boston-based nonprofit focused on training the next generation of civic leaders, and took part in CommonWealth Beacon’s New Voices training program on effective op-ed writing, a partnership with the Civic Action Project and Institute for Nonprofit Practice. 

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