The last time I went to Shooters was mid-March. Until then, I felt relatively safe when I “rolled Shoots.” Besides the risk of being squeezed to death by a mass of intoxicated Duke students, I never felt like I had that much to worry about. In the handful of times I went first semester, nothing super eventful happened. I sang along to songs like Mr. Brightside. I tried to act like I could dance. I pretended not to see those couples that make out for hours on end on the fringes of the dance floor. I watched as some of my friends danced in the cage.
My first Shooters experiences were fairly wholesome. I didn’t see anything grimy happen, and certainly never anything that I felt like I had to speak up about. I had heard about how uncomfortable it could be for my female friends, but when we went to Shooters together, nothing major happened to any of us.
Looking back, it was probably idealistic to believe that would continue indefinitely. On March 21, I went to Shooters with some of my friends from Randolph, my first-year dorm. By the time I got there, I was mostly sober. I did my usual Shooters ritual—took a quick walk around the place and looked for any other friends who had decided to come to Shooters on the same night. I saw a few friends that had come from a Mirecourt party. We hugged, chatted for a bit, and then I moved on.
I eventually went to dance with the group that I had come to Shooters with. I sang and danced, and then saw a few people that I knew in one of Duke’s dance groups. I again gave a few hugs, said hi, and then danced with their group for a bit. I was having a pretty good time, shouting the lyrics with everyone else and trying (in vain) to dance as well as the real dancers.
You were in their circle, dancing with them as well. I recognized you because we followed each other on Instagram, although we had never spoken online or in person. You walked up to me and started dancing in front of me. I continued to dance and shout the lyrics. You made eye contact with me, and then ran your hand down my body in an apparent attempt to be sensual. You started at my chest and then stopped after your palm rubbed against my genitals.
It only took two or three seconds.
I realized what happened a couple of seconds later. I was incredibly uncomfortable, but I didn’t let it show. I knew you couldn’t hear me over the music, and I didn’t want to make a scene. I felt embarrassed. I didn’t know what to say, so I tried to make you understand that I didn’t want you to touch me again. I said “I’m straight. Sorry.”
I walked off the dance floor, up the stairs, and tried to cool down as I contemplated what to do next. I didn’t want to dance anymore. I left a few minutes later. When I got back to my dorm, I felt strange, but I wasn’t that traumatized. Just disappointed. Disappointed that people believe their own needs for sexual gratification supersede others’ rights to feeling safe and comfortable. Disappointed that I didn’t say anything to you, or make a scene, or scream or at least tell you that what you did wasn’t okay. That I didn’t want it.
Since I didn’t tell you anything in person, I made a short list of suggestions here so that you (and others like you) can understand how to act in Shooters and in life.
1. Do not treat people as objects that are solely used to fulfill your sexual needs.
I (and all people) have this right called “bodily autonomy”—it means that we have ownership over our own bodies and that we can choose who/what does things to our bodies. We shouldn’t be thought of as sex objects. You do not have the right to do whatever you want to people simply because you’re horny. Having even a shred of empathy should allow you to realize that others do not like it when you revoke their right to bodily autonomy. If they don’t clearly indicate that they want you to touch them, or are unable to consent, don’t touch them. Don’t rub any of your body parts on theirs.
2. Do not use alcohol as a tool for sex, and do not use it as an excuse.
You didn’t seem very intoxicated, but maybe you were. Either way, drunkenness isn’t an excuse. You don’t magically lose control of your body when you’re drunk. Your judgement might be worse, but if it wasn’t abhorrent in the first place, you would leave people alone unless they clearly accepted your advances. And, something you didn’t do, but others like you try all the time: don’t try to get other people blackout drunk so that they will have sex with you. If you’re caught, you deserve sexual assault charges for being a horrible human being.
3. Do not let anything happen to others.
If you manage to master the other two, watch out for people who are potential victims. If you see that a classmate is trying to get someone else drunk or is getting too handsy with someone that looks uncomfortable, try to help out them out. And god forbid, if they sexually assault someone, report them and help the victim out as soon as possible. You’ll be helping out a person that really needs it and making a positive contribution to the sexual misconduct atmosphere of Duke.
Although sexual harassment and sexual assault happen to women and LGBTQ+ identifying individuals at disproportionate rates, they can happen to men too. But being a man who has been groped has a small silver lining—I understand a little better what girls at Duke mean when they say that they’re uncomfortable at places like Shooters, and I can better see why they may not want to go to parties alone.
And to you, boy who groped me at Shooters, since I don’t want you to forget: watch where you put your hands.
Luke Sallmen is a Trinity sophomore. His column runs on alternate Thursdays.
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