How to Talk to Your Sons About Cornell.

If you've been following the story coming out of Cornell University, you may have found yourself thinking about your own children.

I certainly have.

A female Cornell student reported that she was drugged and sexually assaulted by seven men over the course of many hours at a fraternity house. What makes this story especially devastating is what happened around the assault: other young men were reportedly aware of what was happening through a fraternity group chat, and the case has raised deeply troubling questions about what people knew, when they knew it, and whether anyone stepped in to help.

The university's response has also come under significant scrutiny, including questions about how the report was handled and why the matter was not initially pursued through local criminal law enforcement. The criminal investigation has since been reopened.

As a therapist, as a woman, and as a mother of a young boy, this story hit me incredibly hard.

I have loved ones who have experienced sexual violence. I have supported numerous clients who have lived through it.

And I keep thinking about my son.

"He's too young to talk about this."

I understand why we might want to think that.

Sexual violence is horrifying. The idea of talking to your young child about it can feel overwhelming. We may think, Surely this is something we talk about when they're teenagers. Or when they're heading off to college. Surely we don't need to introduce this to little kids.

But here's the thing:

Sexual violence does not begin at college.

And teaching our sons about consent, bodily autonomy, boundaries, and what to do when someone else is being harmed doesn't require telling them frightening or explicit details.

We can start much earlier.

We can start small.

If your son is little

With a child around four to six, you don't need to explain sexual assault.

You can say something as simple as:

"There was a news story that has a lot of grown-ups worried because some people did something very unsafe to another person's body. That's one reason we talk about keeping our hands to ourselves and respecting other people's bodies."

Then reinforce the basics:

Your body belongs to you.

Other people's bodies belong to them.

No means no.

When someone tells you to stop, you stop.

If you see someone being hurt, you get help.

That's it.

You're not giving your child a trauma lecture.

You're laying the groundwork.

When they're a little older

By seven, eight, or nine, children can begin understanding more complicated social situations.

You might say:

"Sometimes people do things that aren't okay because their friends are doing them. What would you do if you saw a friend doing something that you knew was wrong?"

This is where I think the Cornell story becomes especially important.

Because the lesson isn't simply:

"Don't hurt someone."

It's also:

"What do you do when somebody else is hurting someone?"

Your son might not be the person doing the harmful thing.

But what if he's standing nearby?

What if it's his friend?

What if it's happening in a group chat?

What if everyone else is laughing?

What if speaking up means his friends might make fun of him?

Those are the situations I want my son to think about before he ever encounters them.

"But my son would never do that."

I know my son wouldn't.

I am raising him to understand empathy, consent, respect, and responsibility. I have every intention of raising a young man who treats other people with kindness and understands that another person's boundaries are not negotiable.

But I don't want the conversation to end there.

Because there is another question that matters:

What if he is friends with someone who is?

What if a friend is pressuring someone sexually?

What if someone in the group chat posts something degrading about a girl?

What if a friend is taking advantage of someone who is too intoxicated to protect herself?

What if everyone else knows something is wrong and nobody wants to be the person who says something?

I want my son to know what to do.

I want him to understand that being a good friend doesn't mean protecting your friend from consequences when they're hurting someone.

I want him to know that "everyone else was doing it" isn't a good enough reason to participate—or to stay silent.

I want him to know that sometimes being a good person means making things uncomfortable.

It means saying:

"That's not okay."

It means leaving.

It means getting help.

It means checking on the person who needs help.

It means being willing to stand alone when everyone else is choosing to look away.

Because raising a good man isn't only about teaching him what not to do.

It's teaching him what to do when someone else is doing something wrong.

We aren't just teaching our sons what NOT to do

As parents, we spend a lot of time teaching our children how to stay safe.

Don't get into a stranger's car.

Don't walk somewhere alone at night.

Don't accept a drink from someone you don't know.

Tell someone if you're uncomfortable.

All of those conversations matter.

But I want us to have another conversation with our sons:

How do you help keep other people safe?

Because that is part of becoming a good man, too.

It starts when your little boy learns that "stop" means stop.

It continues when he learns that hurting someone isn't funny just because everyone else is laughing.

It continues when he learns that you don't have to agree with your friends.

And it continues when he learns that if someone is being harmed, he has a choice about what he does next.

We don't have to wait until college

I don't want my son to grow up afraid of sex.

I don't want him to think women are fragile or that men are inherently dangerous.

And I don't want him to hear a story like this and simply think:

"Those are bad men. I'm not like them."

I want him to ask:

"What would I do if I were there?"

That's the conversation I want to have.

Because we cannot control every person our children will eventually encounter.

We cannot guarantee that our sons will never find themselves in a situation where someone is making a terrible choice.

But we can give them a framework.

We can teach them about consent.

We can teach them that another person's body is never theirs to take.

We can teach them that fitting in is not more important than protecting another person.

And we can teach them that when something is wrong, silence is not the only option.

As a mother of a little boy I love more than anything in the world, I feel an enormous responsibility to raise him well.

Not because I expect him to be perfect.

But because I want him to become the kind of man who notices when someone needs help—and has the courage to do something about it.

That's why we have to talk to our sons.

And we don't have to wait until they're eighteen to start.