I was standing at the corner of Broad and Chestnut this week when a small group of youngish women and about three or four oldish men marched by, most of them chanting, “We Are Jane Doe.”
The men were uncomfortably silent, likely realizing how ridiculous they looked. They didn’t tie up traffic, and they were basically well-behaved. They were a lot more polite than the Free Palestine crazies who occupied a corner of Rittenhouse Square earlier in the week. In terms of a protest, it was lukewarm, somewhere between Kumbaya-with-Patchouli and a riot.
We’ve all been bombarded with punditry about the Cornell Rape saga. I’ve expressed my own opinion that given the peculiarities of New York criminal statutes, any prosecution seems doomed. And so far, we’re only dealing with the lawsuit from “Jane.” So this little parade down Broad Street was so unremarkable that it shouldn’t even rate a column.
Yet there was one aspect that struck me and does merit attention: Why are self-professed victims of assault given the significant protection of anonymity while the accused are hung out like red meat for the public’s consumption.
I’m not saying victims’ identities should be revealed. Quite the opposite. Sexual assault is a heinous crime, so heinous that it has a generational impact. The abused very often become abusers themselves, as the tragic statistics bear out.
But that’s my point. If the crime is so reprehensible, perhaps we need to be very careful about disseminating the names of anyone involved, until guilt or innocence, civil liability or not, is established.
Reputation is one of the most precious things that we possess. Shakespeare recognized that when he put these words into the mouth of Cassio, Othello’s betrayed friend: “Reputation, reputation, reputation! O, I have lost my reputation! I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial.”
At best, the loss of your good name carries social stigma, financial loss and emotional distress. At its darkest, it can result in tragedy. I once wrote a column about the Duke lacrosse players after they had been found “actually innocent” of any crime. This was even before the toxic heyday of the MeToo movement, when witch hunts abounded. I received an email in response that broke my heart.
It was from a mother whose son had been accused of sexual harassment by a high school classmate. He lost his spot on the football team, was suspended from school and fell into a deep depression. The girl eventually recanted her claim. But the damage was done. Unable to recover from the shame and suspicion, he hanged himself. He was 19.
Therein lies the problem with identifying people accused of rape. Even if they are never convicted of anything, there will always be an asterisk next to their names. And that is a sentence, in and of itself.
Some will argue that in this case, Jane Doe has only filed a civil suit. That is irrelevant. Loss of reputation is not limited to the criminal context. Being sued in court for money or prosecuted as a civil defendant has the same reputational impact.
So I’m hoping that one day, as we realize how truly unfair it is to allow accusers to hide behind friendly marchers crying “I stand with Jane Doe” while she gets to point a finger at her alleged abusers, we will start giving “John Doe” the benefit of the doubt.
His life might depend on it.
Copyright 2026 Christine Flowers
