I’ve been on the Cornell University emotional rollercoaster this week.

I started to write that I can’t comprehend that a man would be so morally corrupt as to send a text advertising “Free p*ssy.”

But I had to pause and question whether I really was surprised. Because this drudges up the grief and sorrow I felt in 2016.

The heartache I felt when, despite undeniable evidence that one particular presidential candidate mistreats women (“Grab them by the p*ssy”), almost 63 million people—some of whom I’m related to—gave him their stamp of approval.

At the polls, [insert whatever most-likely-financial reason] mattered more than morality.  

I ask myself whether I would view it differently if, for example, the “Grab them” candidate promised universal healthcare, which I’m very passionate about. Yet I can’t come up with a hypothetical in which I could cast a vote for—i.e., endorse—a person like that.

It pains me to think that money matters more than human decency.

The incident at Cornell made me think about my own experiences in 2004. And 2008. And 2010. After seeing some of the responses to what happened at Cornell, I’m zero-bit surprised that it took me almost twenty years to realize that I wasn’t to blame for being in situations where people took advantage of me. Reasons not to come forward? Fear of getting in trouble. Fear of losing job-provided health insurance. Fear of enduring further heartache.

Even as I screamed my heart out at the Braves game on Tuesday—in my happy place—I observed the groups of men around me, wondering who among them was most likely to send the “Free p*ssy” text. As players came up to bat, I speculated whether any of them would have intervened.

Ugh.

I’m sick to think of all the women who felt as erased as I did when we collectively agreed that sexual assault wasn’t a dealbreaker.

I hurt for Jane Does everywhere.