It goes without saying that universities have fallen short in responding to instances of gender-based violence (GBV). Survivors have come together to create coping mechanisms and community in the wake of their experiences. Too often, survivors are denied their agency; they are simply seen as passive victims. Survivors are not defined by the injustice they have faced but by how they have also produced real, meaningful change. When we commit to meaningful solidarity, when we abandon performative gestures, the tokenistic feminist book, the Taylor Swift Poster above our bed, and, in the words of one survivor, “the things [we] know [we] ought to be saying and painting [our] nails”, we can achieve real change.
“I hadn’t been to uni the entirety of second semester and no-one had flagged it,” said Eva, a third-year student, who experienced GBV whilst at university and is currently advocating for domestic abuse training for all student advisors at UK universities. “If academics and advisors had the training to notice these signs, then it could have made the world of difference.”
Another respondent, who has chosen to remain anonymous, told us about her experience within a society whilst at university. Despite initial assurances that the perpetrator “would be gone and [the society] can’t have this,” the leadership team became less supportive over time. When she asked why, she was told: “I have an obligation to everyone in this unit, not just you.”
Currently, the university delivers training for students and staff, however, some students (in response to a survey held by The Student) said they had found these practices dissatisfactory, with many cases flying under the radar due to a lack of awareness. This complacency results in the extension of an already lengthy reporting process, with students reporting instances of GBV later.
When approached for comment, a University of Edinburgh spokesperson said, “While we don’t comment on individual cases, the safety of our students is our absolute priority and we do not tolerate any forms of violence within our community. Any reports made to us are taken very seriously and we have updated and improved our procedures in response to student feedback, ensuring that reports made to us are investigated robustly and fairly for all parties, and that students are supported throughout this process.”
The main complaint against the current system, by our respondents, is the length of time it takes for cases of GBV to be dealt with. Eva told us, regarding her situation, “I strongly believe this will be ongoing by the time I graduate.” However, most respondents acknowledge that this was part of an “institutional crisis, leaving people feeling helpless, including instructors and tutors.” Another added, “the bureaucracy and nature of the policies means everything has to be checked from above.”
This isn’t just an Edinburgh issue. Jen, who attends another Russell Group university, told us that she was initially told her case would take five weeks. A final decision was made eight months later.
The time taken for cases of GBV to be dealt with by universities has resulted in victims feeling isolated and alone during an already difficult time. One respondent touched on how the combination of the bad system and the stigma of GBV spreads the message that assault is something that can go unpunished. It “was only sending the message that he was allowed to do it.”
When asked why they thought GBV still occurred on campus, most respondents touched on the culture on campus and the vulnerability within tight-knit communities at university. One survey respondent highlighted the superficiality of, particularly men’s, responses to GBV at this university, pointing out how people often do not call out their friends on inappropriate behaviour while playing lip service to feminism. A perpetrator of GBV even tried to “mansplain” to the respondent “that what happened was definitely not rape, citing feminist literature to support his point.”
“It’s because it’s allowed,” said one respondent. “People want to brush it under the rug because it’s still so stigmatised and complicated. So complicated they didn’t want to be involved, but everyone has an obligation to do so.”
Survivors have, however, reclaimed their agency and built meaningful movements for change. Sex?OnCampus! is run by many survivors and allies alike. Kate, who is a Campaign Lead for the non-profit organisation, emphasises how we have a “duty to support and protect survivors,” while another interviewee said that the group was a “community within everyday life.”
Programmes like the HEART Fund, started by Sex?OnCampus!, demonstrate students’ commitment to helping each other. It is estimated that survivors spend £90,000 more throughout their lifetimes than the average person to deal with the consequences of GBV. The HEART Fund, and initiatives like it, help soften the costly financial constraints of being a survivor. This is what genuine, meaningful solidarity looks like.
If we don’t make an active effort to engage in meaningful solidarity by doing things that make us uncomfortable, making personal sacrifices, and educating those who are perpetrators of GBV, then we’ll continue to marginalise survivors and condemn them to feeling alone and at fault. Without genuine sacrifice, we’ll never achieve community, and without community, we’ll never be able to confront the issues head-on. Yes, university systems need reform, but that only happens when we pressure it from below. We can only do this by abandoning superficial, throw-away phrases and replacing them with action.
This article has since been edited since it’s original publication on 5 March 2025.