Last week, the Duke rape case came to a close when Attorney General of North Carolina Roy Cooper announced that there had been inconclusive evidence in the case, and therefore he believed the accused were innocent. For the three vindicated student-athletes at the center of the case, the announcement marked the end of a 13-month saga, which began in March of 2006, when they were accused of raping a stripper at a party held by their lacrosse team. The accuser, a stripper named Crystal Magnum who had been hired to perform at the party, alleged that she had been hung upside down and raped by the three young men.

But it turns out she was lying (or, at the very least, seriously, seriously mistaken). The case crumbled as her story changed—during the investigation, she gave more than a dozen different accounts of her supposed assault. When it became apparent that Durham District Attorney Mike Nifong was completely mishandling the case, Cooper stepped in and cleaned up the mess.

That the case has come to a close is an overdue ending to a disastrous set of events. For the three young men who were accused, significant damage has already been done. All three have had to take a leave of absence from Duke, losing a year of playing NCAA lacrosse and a year of attending college. Their families have incurred huge legal fees and public humiliation. Many people following the case have assumed that the three are rapists, a label that even now will be hard to shed.

Do I fancy dating any one of the three accused? Not likely. Are the accused the most respectable college students on the planet? Probably not. To be sure, the events surrounding the Duke case were seedy. But sketchy or not, the damage of this accusation is not deserved.

Putting aside issues of racial tensions and town-gown relations, the incident at Duke (or, in a sense, the lack of an incident) says a lot about the sensationalizing of sexual assault cases today. So many facets of society have become so hypersensitive to such matters that we seem to be losing our ability to discern between legitimate issues of sexual violence and overblown or exaggerated circumstances. To be sure, crimes of sexual assault such as rape are very serious matters. But so too is an accusation of rape.

We’d do well to keep that in mind at Harvard this week, as the annual Take Back the Night events kick off. Take Back the Night, which began in the seventies, consists of candlelight vigils, rallies, and informational events aimed at promoting awareness of sexual crimes. This all sounds fine enough—preventing sexual violence is a laudable goal. The trouble is that much of the dialogue of events such as Take Back the Night ignores the fact that in many cases, preventing sexual violence hinges on sexual responsibility.

Likely much of what will occur at Take Back the Night will involve citing statistics about the prevalence of rape. For instance, younger women are victims of sexual violence at higher rates than older women. Supposedly only one in five rapes is reported to police. And a favorite statistic: 80 percent of rape victims suffer at the hands of someone they know.

This extremely high number seems questionable, highlighting a problem in how we talk about sexual violence. I am willing to believe that there are significantly negative circumstances surrounding all of these incidents, but I am dubious that all of these actually constituted rape. Morning-after guilt and regrets can give way to overblown cries of violation or abuse. Sexual communication is often difficult, so in the moment that a line has been crossed, the line is not always altogether clear.

Relationship tensions distinct from sex, too, can play a part in reports of sexual violence—an impulse to punish someone for some grievance, for instance. When alcohol is involved—as it is in many reported acts of sexual violence—both involved parties may be unable to draw appropriate lines. In those situations, the “Yes, keep going” in the middle of the night, for instance, may be transformed into feelings of violation. These situations constitute bad sexual decision-making, not necessarily acts of sexual assault.

Sexual violence is a serious issue and a matter of which we all ought to be aware. Yet to allow its gravity to be diluted by exaggeration is to take away from the seriousness of the situations in which violation has truly occurred. Overstating the prevalence of the rape problem is offensive for the true victims and sets a dangerous precedent within society.

The most effective way for a woman to “take back the night” is to take control of her sexual behavior. This ranges from personal safety measures (like being sensible about drinking) to avoiding high-risk situations in which intentions are not made clear (so often, these scenarios are instances of common sense gone askew). Only when she has taken this responsibility will she be in a position to reflect clearly on how such sexual issues affect her.

As for Take Back the Night at Harvard, I suggest that at their closing candlelight vigil, they light a candle for the other victims of sexual violence politics—the ones who find themselves unfairly accused of serious sexual misjudgment. To acknowledge those victims—now that would be seizing the night. Otherwise, honey, you can have it.


Lucy M. Caldwell ’09 is a history and literature concentrator in Adams House. Her column appears on alternate Wednesdays.