I don’t remember what I was wearing when I got sexually assaulted my freshman year, but I do remember what I wore when I figured out what had happened. It was the autumn of 2008, and I had just left a sorority house, where I had given a lecture on consent, safe sex, and best practices for helping friends who have been raped. Jacob,* a handsome, popular guy I had avoided for years, strode up to me. I was wearing a teal T-shirt emblazoned with the logo of the University of Virginia’s sexual assault crisis center.
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