Love, Honor, and Title IX
Content Warning: This column deals with themes of sexual and interpersonal violence.
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Content Warning: This column deals with themes of sexual and interpersonal violence.
When I went through informal recruitment, I had no idea what to expect or how my sorority would change me. That was a year and a half ago, and I now hold a position on my sorority’s executive board, and my primary role involves standards, excuses and chapter culture.
I can’t pretend that my relationship with my sexuality has been easy. In fact, it’s been anything but.
It’s 10 p.m. on a Saturday night, and you’re spending time with roommates, friends or family (while socially distancing of course), and all of a sudden, you feel your phone buzz in your pocket.
As far back as I can remember, I’ve struggled to accept my body.
It’s a go-to question at everything from college orientation to the Thanksgiving dinner table.
At this point in the school year, most Miami University students have heard of Student Counseling Services (SCS). At my first-year orientation, a university official encouraged the crowd of soon-to-be students to visit SCS if we ever needed to talk to someone. Once I was on campus, I saw reminders and the center's call number posted on multiple bulletin boards in my residence hall. The message was clear: If you need help, call Student Counseling Services.