October 22nd — The Protests
The next day, formal protests were organized. Hundreds to thousands of people camped outside of the house, writing letters in support of victims of sexual assault, writing letters in anger at Ryan Schiffilea, at the members of sigma nu, and at the university as well.
That night, I went to the house with XXXX to help move him out, and it was surreal. We had to sneak in the back and lay low, so the protesters out front didn’t see us. The house was desolate. Each room shut and locked, and only the sound of rape accusations could be heard. Even in the back ally, the fear of being seen, being identified, was too uncomfortable.
I’m unsure if I have mentioned it yet, but also, what has been written and said about us has been absurd and largely what weights on me. One abolish greek life letter read “to the men of sigma nu, fuck you. I hope you never have kids so you don’t raise rapists.” Graffitti on the walls of the house had “666”, “SigNu Rapes”, “Castrate them all”, and lots of other lovely phrases.
The front door panel was ripped off so that door is unusable as an entrance which is good. Also this is absolutely critical but don’t touch the papers and shit out front. We unfortunately have become the face of sexual misconduct for the whole row and the sentiments expressed are things people are extremely passionate about. You let them grieve.
I want to reiterate what XXXX said, these messages hurt like hell. But I have had a lot of good friends reach out saying they are so sorry for us whats happening to us, stand with us, and know what kind of people we actually are, good people. Don’t forget that.
I called my parents that day, and it was the first time I really got to cry. It was healthy and much needed. Later that night, some friends made us all dinner at rowhouse, and it was the first time we were able to feel good. misery loves company, and at the time, it felt like the only people that wouldn’t assume I was a rapist were in that room.
