The Cornell 7: Shocking, Disturbing, Yet All Too Familiar
Trigger Warning: This piece discusses sexual violence and harassment which some readers may find distressing.
As a mental health research assistant, writer and editor for Inspire the Mind, this is not the first time I have written about sexual violence, and I fear it will not be the last.
Sexual violence is not new, nor is the outrage that follows it. For decades, women have shared their stories, challenged harmful attitudes and demanded greater accountability. Yet, despite these efforts, allegations of sexual violence continue to emerge, each a painful reminder of how much remains unchanged.
The Cornell 7 case is one such example.
In September 2026, a 20-year-old former Cornell University student, identified as Jane Doe, filed a civil lawsuit alleging that seven fraternity members, Matthew Ingalls, Jonathan Newell, Winston Lee, Gillio Lopes, Diego Sarabia, Scott Norris and Scott Kretzschmar, drugged, raped and sexually assaulted her at the university’s Chi Phi fraternity house in October 2024.
Among the evidence cited in the lawsuit were screenshots of messages exchanged on the night in question in a fraternity Snapchat group chat involving more than 50 members. According to the lawsuit, one of the accused wrote, “Free p***y in alum pu,” prompting responses including “shop still open?”, both messages appearing to suggest that free sex was available at the fraternity house while referring to Jane Doe as though she were a commodity on offer. Another response read “I f***ing love chi phi,” accompanied by heart emojis. A later message appeared to suggest that someone could simply walk in and “whip it out,” an apparent reference to exposing his genitals.
Following the alleged assault in 2024, Jane Doe reported the incident to the Cornell University Police Department. Cornell's internal investigation led to a range of disciplinary measures, including expulsions, suspensions and no-contact orders, as well as mandatory training on sexual harassment, social media use and bystander intervention, and written reflection assignments. Meanwhile, Jane Doe left Cornell without completing her degree and, according to her lawyer, understandably, experienced significant emotional distress. Now in 2026, following the lawsuit, the criminal investigation has been reopened, gaining renewed public attention and outrage.
As a recent university graduate myself, perhaps what makes this case feel even closer to home is the recognition that Jane Doe was another young woman navigating university life, just as so many of us have done or are doing now. However, as I read more about her story, I found myself returning to three particular aspects of the case: the uncomfortable reality that danger can come from people we know, the casual normalisation of misogynistic attitudes towards women, and the challenges survivors face when seeking justice.
All deeply shocking, but are any of these realities really new?
Stranger Danger
As women, we grow up learning an endless list of rules to keep us safe. Never leave your drink unattended. Never walk home alone. Share your location. Text when you get home. Don’t talk to strangers, especially men. Stay with your friends.
We are taught to be cautious, to recognise danger and to take responsibility for avoiding it. But what happens when someone you consider your friend is the person you need protecting from?
This is the case for Jane Doe, who went to meet Mathew Ingalls, someone she considered a friend. This is also the case for countless other women with similar experiences of sexual violence. In fact, according to Rape Crisis England & Wales, of the estimated one in four women in England and Wales who have experienced rape or sexual assault since the age of 16, two in five are assaulted by a current or former partner, while six in seven are assaulted by someone they know, including friends, family members, co-workers or acquaintances.
None of these statistics are new. This is something women have been speaking about for decades. But I realise there is still a part of me that wants to believe I would recognise someone dangerous. That there would be something about them, some obvious warning sign, that would tell me to stay away.
But what if there isn’t?
We spend so much time teaching women how to protect themselves from strangers and danger, yet often overlook the reality that danger often comes from the men we know and trust.
When Misogyny Enters the Chat
Even when the rules we are taught to follow are not enough to keep us safe, we like to believe that those around us, particularly those who are aware of what is happening, would step in and intervene.
Yet, as the allegations in Jane Doe's case suggest, this is not always the reality.
There were reportedly more than 50 men in the group chat. More than 50 people were privy to a conversation in which a woman was allegedly spoken of as though she were something available for others to use, rather than a human being deserving of dignity and respect. In the messages that have emerged, there appears to be no attempt to challenge what was being said.
It should not matter whether it was more than 50 men or just one. Seeing such degrading language exchanged with such apparent ease and amusement is deeply disturbing. What makes this even more unsettling is how familiar it feels. From so-called “locker room talk” to sexist jokes and the objectification of women in male friendship groups, online platforms and the media, this kind of language is far from uncommon.
Women have spent decades fighting for sexual violence to be recognised, taken seriously and to no longer be dismissed or excused, from the beginnings of the #MeToo movement in 2006 to the global reckoning it sparked in 2017.
Nearly two decades later, the alleged Cornell group chat messages serve as a troubling reminder that, despite years of awareness campaigns, survivor testimonies and conversations about consent, the degradation and sexual objectification of women can still be treated with an alarming sense of normality.
The Cost of Coming Forward
The contrast between the outcome of Cornell’s internal investigation and Jane Doe's reported experience is difficult to ignore. Despite Jane Doe reportedly telling the Cornell University Police Department in November 2024, “I can say with 100% confidence I was raped,” no criminal charges were initially filed against the seven men.
Unfortunately, the absence of criminal charges is not an unfamiliar outcome in cases of alleged sexual violence. According to the UK Home Office, just 5% of rape offences recorded by police in England and Wales in the year ending March 2025 had resulted in a charge or summons by the latest reporting update.
However, the challenges survivors face in seeking justice are not confined to the legal system. For those who choose to speak out, the possibility of public backlash can bring further consequences. For instance, since filing her lawsuit, Jane Doe has reportedly faced threats, online harassment and attempts to expose her identity, leaving her feeling unsafe. Despite the public support she has received, her experience highlights how speaking out can sometimes come at a further cost to a survivor's emotional wellbeing, privacy and personal safety.
We often encourage survivors to speak up, to report what happened and to trust that the appropriate systems will respond. But coming forward is not the end of the experience. For many, it can mark the beginning of another difficult and emotionally exhausting process.
I’ve Seen This Film Before…
When I began writing this article, I thought I was trying to explain why the Cornell 7 case had shocked me. But the more I reflect on it, the more I realise the thing that has “shocked” me the most is how familiar it all feels.
The involvement of someone trusted. The casual degradation of women. The failure of accountability and the cost of coming forward.
I realised that perhaps the most disturbing part is how little of what I wanted to say feels new. We have read about these issues before. We have written about them before. We have had conversations about them before. We have expressed outrage about them before.
And yet, here we are, doing it all over again.
