The Anatomy of Trust

Recent Cornell University allegations raise larger questions about trust and accountability within male/female friendships

By: Benanti Kaur

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Chi Phi fraternity house at Cornell University. Credit: AP Photo/Matt Rourke

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In reported rape cases involving college-age victims, 60% involved a perpetrator known to the victim. Of those known perpetrators, 69% were described as an acquaintance or friend.

Friendship is a voluntary, close relationship between people based on mutual affection, trust and support. The key word here being mutual. Mutual reliance means knowing that the care and protection you offer is returned, especially when you need it most. 

However, what happens when that trust is broken beyond repair?

Recently, at Cornell University, seven male students were accused of sexually assaulting a female student, identified as Jane Doe, some of whom she reportedly knew and considered friends.

The allegations at Cornell University forces us, especially as young adults, to reconsider what friendship between men and women truly means.

It is important to note: mutual trust does not always mean mutual experience. For women, even the closest relationships in our lives with men can exist alongside an unspoken burden of awareness for our own safety. There is always constant awareness in the background:

Who else is going to be there? 

Who has my drink? 

How am I getting home?

Does someone have my location?

Will he stop if I say no?

This awareness does not disappear simply because a man is a friend. In fact, friendship can make these situations even more complicated. We are taught that friendships are a space to let our guard down, but for many women this can feel like a risk in itself. 

So, why does sexual violence so often become a conversation between two women? 

We repost stories. Warn our friends. Share our locations. Watch each other’s drinks and send the “home safe?” text at the end of the night. When allegations like these surface, women constantly remind each other to stay safe and share their own experiences. 

But where are the men in these situations? 

In the wake of allegations at Cornell, actress Florence Pugh asked men directly, “How can you expect us to trust that it’s ‘not all men’ when in moments like this, many of you stay quiet?” in an Instagram post addressing the allegations.

Her message embodies something larger than one person and one post — supporting women cannot be something men only practice within their relationships with women. Being a “good friend” cannot begin and end with being kind to one woman you know personally. 

Pugh’s call for men to speak up raises an important question: What does that responsibility actually look like in everyday friendship?

Men have access to spaces women will never be in, to conversations we may never hear and behaviors we may never see; being an advocate in those rooms matters the most. It is easy to respect a woman who is your friend; it is much harder to defend them when another man disrespects them. 

Did you laugh at the joke? 

Did you ignore the comment? 

Did you speak up and defend her? 

Did you step in and stop it? 

Real friendship is caring about their safety and defending them when they are not there to see it. 

Additionally, speaking up does not only matter after a story makes headlines. It is most important when no one’s watching. It happens when your friend makes a joke about sexual assault and you choose not to laugh. When a woman is too intoxicated to consent and you intervene. When your fraternity brother talks about women like an object rather than a person. 

These moments may seem small compared to the allegations at Cornell, but they contribute to the culture around sexual violence. Advocacy is more than reposting or publicly condemning sexual assault when everyone has already agreed something terrible has happened. It’s willing to make yourself uncomfortable around your friends. It means risking an awkward conversation or calling out a friend rather than staying silent to not “ruin the vibe.” 

We would like to believe that knowing someone means knowing what they are capable of. When someone we trust is accused of something completely different from the version we know of them, the two realities can feel impossible to reconcile. 

Friendship only gives us one version of a person. Someone can be the friend who walks you home, brings you groceries, answers your calls. But another person may have experienced them entirely differently. Both experiences are true. This makes loyalty very complicated. 

On a college campus like Gainesville, it becomes even harder. Gainesville, like all other college campuses, is built around overlapping circles. Your friend is someone’s roommate. Your date is someone else’s fraternity brother. The person you met in the lab is someone's best friend. People rarely exist in one social context. Friendship can make us feel like we know someone so completely, even when our experience with them is completely contradictory to someone else’s. 

This is especially important when the phrase “not all men” gets pulled into the conversation. Yes, not all men hurt women. Women know this. The precautions women take are not accusatory towards every man. They come from not knowing which men they need to be cautious of. 

When a woman asks who will be at the party, if someone’s watching her drink, to watch her location, she is not saying every man in the room is dangerous. She is responding to uncertainty. 

That uncertainty can exist even within friendship. We cannot always distinguish between a “good” man and a “bad” one. That is why “not all men” answers questions that were never asked. Women know it is not all men. The problem is not knowing which men until the trust and loyalty has already been broken. 

The allegations at Cornell have reopened the conversation that goes far beyond one college campus. They challenge the idea that friendship automatically guarantees safety and reminds us how much it takes to let someone into our lives.

“Mutual” respect and support in a friendship is simply more than caring for one another. It means safety and responsibility. For women, letting our guard down is not something that we do freely. It is one of the greatest forms of trust, and friendship should not make us regret giving it.

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Benanti is a sophomore at University of Florida and an online writer for Rowdy Magazine. She is passionate about being an advocate for minority groups. In her free time, she enjoys dance, music, pilates and travel.