“She remembers every moment of the next three hours of agony, during which, she says, seven men took turns raping her, while two more – her date, Drew, and another man – gave instruction and encouragement. She remembers how the spectators swigged beers, and how they called each other nicknames like Armpit and Blanket. She remembers the men’s heft and their sour reek of alcohol mixed with the pungency of marijuana. Most of all, Jackie remembers the pain and the pounding that went on and on.”
I did my M.A. at UVA. Academically, the place is stellar. Culturally, especially among the frats, it’s a racist hellhole of Rebel battle flags and date rape.
I’m so ashamed. Burn it to the ground. Some of the academic rigor might be missed, but smug sense of “we’re better than everyone else” will definitely not be.
And I can assure you that for every story like this, there are at least ten you never will know about.