The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Michigan in Color
8 — Wednesday, February 2, 2022
Content warning: This article mentions
sexual assault.
Writer’s Note: To make it abundantly clear,
in this space, we believe survivors of sexual
assault, regardless of gender, class, sexual ori-
entation, age and other circumstances used to
discredit survivors.
Sienna Mae Gomez, an online personal-
ity who first developed a following on Tik-
Tok and currently has 14 million followers,
has been accused of sexual assault by her
former friend and fellow Internet personal-
ity Jack Wright. It was heavily suspected
after Wright’s friend leaked a video in early
2021, depicting an incapacitated Wright
being groped by Gomez coupled with a state-
ment from the friend alleging the abuse, but
Wright had not addressed the allegations of
the abuse for months directly. (For the sake
of respecting Wright’s autonomy, I have cho-
sen to exclude incorporating a link to this
leaked video.) In the past week, it has been
alleged, through a video posted by Wright,
that Gomez assaulted Wright over the course
of four separate incidents — including the
incident depicted in the leaked video — dur-
ing their relationship. Over the course of the
17-minute testimony, Wright explains the
circumstances of his friendship with Gomez,
which was characterized by Gomez’s manip-
ulation, love bombing, consistent bound-
ary-crossing and many assaults. Wright’s
incredible strength shows through as he
gives a detailed account of the events that
transpired. Survivors of sexual assault should
not have to give such a detailed account on
the internet, and they should be believed
regardless of whether or not they choose to
disclose the details to the public. Although, it
is understandable why Wright would choose
to do so. Other survivors have contacted him,
alleging that Gomez has assaulted them as
well. In addition, Gomez previously released
several videos alleging that the leaked video
was made to deplatform her, that have since
been taken down.
In response to the video, Gomez has gone
on to deny Wright’s allegations through a
Medium post. The apology follows the same
format that celebrity apologies typically do:
acknowledgment of the allegations, some
element of establishing it as a supposed he-
said/she-said situation and a promise to do
better in the future. These apologies usually
leave the author’s (or in the most likely case
authors’) true intention uncertain, whether it
be a true apology or a last Hail Mary attempt
to protect their platform. As a reader, it is
difficult to truly know what the writer’s
intentions are, yet Gomez mentions in the
beginning of her post that “(her) legal team
sent his legal team a letter threatening a law-
suit for defaming (her) character because
that ‘is the best next step to clear your
name.’” In this case, it is abundantly clear
that Gomez’s intentions are not to apologize
and is simply another celebrity’s graceless
attempt to disavow the pain they’ve caused
and maintain their platform.
(From this point in the article, I want to
make my intentions clear. In no way, shape
or form do I want to inspire any hate toward
Gomez. However, a large part of the news
coverage following these allegations has
left a sour taste in my mouth as it has large-
ly failed to address the inadequacy of her
response and the harm it caused.)
The post then details her version of their
relationship, which largely resembles the
timeline brought forward by Wright — with
a few key differences. Gomez discusses how
she felt that he had allegedly “disregarded
(her) feelings for the sake of money” when
Wright has said he wanted to maintain mys-
tery on the status of their relationship for
brand deals. (For context, a large amount of
Gomez’s and Wright’s content at the time
included featuring one another in romanti-
cally themed videos.) Gomez also stated that
the aforementioned leaked video was filmed
months before as a “joke.” Apart from the
timeline, Gomez minimizes her boundary-
crossing as not harmful, but simply not hav-
ing the same “love language” as Wright.
Gomez additionally claims, “Consent isn’t
really something that is formally taught in
school” as a way of stating that she, at the
time, allegedly did not understand what
consent was. While it is true there is a lack of
formal sex education in the United States, it
should not act as a defense and doesn’t negate
her responsibility to take accountability for
her transgressions. Furthermore, Gomez
accused Wright of allegedly trying to paint
her “into the ‘loud’, ‘crazy’, ‘overly sexualized’
stereotype that people try to use on young,
especially Latina, women,” and equates the
accusations against her to equivalent action
that Jack took, suggesting “(Wright alleg-
edly) did some stupid stuff too.” In summary,
the statement is a mess.
Despite Gomez’s emphasis on her own
personal growth in the statement, claiming
“(She) is grateful to have had the opportu-
nity to learn so that (she) can be a better ally
to victims of sexual assault,” she contradicts
herself by continuing to paint Wright in a
negative light. She perverts concepts such
as “love languages”, lack of sex education,
sl*t- shaming and the monetary ties of their
relationship in an audacious attempt to dis-
credit a sexual assault survivor. This delib-
erate misappropriation is heightened by her
simultaneous acknowledgment that she did
not respect boundaries, or “love languages,”
as she put it, throughout the duration of their
friendship, diminishing the impact of these
violations. Gomez also attempts to justify
this misappropriation by including details
of the monetary aspect of their relationship,
as content from the relationship was largely
used to bolster both individuals’ careers
through paid-for brand deals and even a real-
ity TV show. I cannot imagine how difficult
it must be to grow up under this much pub-
lic interest and have monetary ties to one’s
relationships. However, inclusions of these
details only serve as a way to minimize her
transgressions against Wright and invite
further criticism against him. It also seems to
serve as a way to allegedly justify her actions
against Wright, which is perhaps the most
disheartening aspect.
A lot of news outlets have covered the
aforementioned
monetary
ties
(brand
deals, increased viewership, etc.) of their
relationship and Gomez’s excuses of “love
languages” that were depicted in Gomez’s
Medium post.While I understand the need
for including these details in the coverage,
I feel it undermines Wright’s experience
and alleged assault. One in seven boys will
experience some form of sexual violence by
age 18. The likelihood of reporting is even
lower for men, as opposed to the already-low
reporting rate for women. For the most part,
the sexual assault of men remains largely
undiscussed and neglected. Wright’s state-
ment is a brave step forward to inspire others
to talk about their experiences by opening
dialogue for others to share their stories. We
need to create a space where sexual assault
survivors, regardless of gender, can come
forward without fearing that every previous
action they have taken, harmful or not, will
be hypercriticized and put under scrutiny.
The statement also included the weap-
onization of an experience that I, and a lot of
women that identify as Latinx, also face and
understand well, which is the over-sexual-
ization and objectification of Latinx women.
It’s no surprise that Gomez chose to incorpo-
rate this into her defense, as her platform has
largely propagated stereotypes of being, in
her own words, a “spicy latina” for her mon-
etary gain, despite rarely, if ever, speaking on
issues that have impacted our community. I
take issue with this, as the over-sexualiza-
tion of Latinx women personally impacts
me. Throughout the years, I have witnessed
the overly sexualized portrayals of Latinx
women in the media and have been at the
receiving end of disgusting comments as
well. One incident in high school stands
out to me the most when I think about the
impact this over-sexualization has had on
my life. It was my senior year at Saline High
School, and we had just received our grades
back for our quiz in AP Economics. I had
been assigned to sit at a table where I was
the only young woman of Color. After receiv-
ing a Starburst for performing well on the
quiz, I came back to my desk to find a note
passed to me by the boys at my table. It was
a stick figure drawing of me in a sombrero
with a crude gigantic pair of boobs. I can still
remember the self-satisfied smirks on their
faces as I opened the note, and the matte,
speckled grey tiles in the bathroom where
I cried after class was over. This stereotype
has had painful implications for my comfort
and relationship to my identity.
Content warning: This arti-
cle mentions sexual abuse and
assault.
Through it all, as students
trudge across campus, dread-
ing those frigid expanses
between toasty shops and
classes and apartments, sur-
vivors of Dr. Robert Ander-
son’s abuse remain perched
in front of the president’s
home. 24 hours a day, seven
days a week, they radically
proclaim
their
existence
with a strength that I can
only describe as relentless
beyond measure. These peo-
ple, whom disgraced former
University President Mark
Schlissel once referred to as
“a group of folks in tents,”
and the campsite that evinc-
es their message serve as a
quiet, yet powerful, remind-
er to those walking down
South
University
Avenue
that accountability for the
trauma of more than a thou-
sand human beings is yet to
be had — and that there is
no true justice for those who
have been and continue to be
harmed by sexual assault.
One of those courageous
protestors is Tad Deluca,
who, in 1975, wrote a let-
ter to his U-M wrestling
coach and then-U-M athletic
director detailing the abuse
he’d endured at the hands of
Anderson. As a consequence
of his brave actions, he was
kicked off the wrestling team
and his full-ride, out-of-state
scholarship was revoked.
This is the story he gra-
ciously shares with me when
I chance upon him outside
his campground on Friday; I
have the honor of being able
to tell Tad that I’m in awe of
him and all he’s sacrificed to
decry those complicit in the
serial abuse. He graciously
smiles, saying he can’t tell me
how much that means to him.
The feeling is infinitely more
than mutual. Tad is wear-
ing glasses with skinny wire
frames and a beanie, and his
cheeks are raw and red from
the harsh January wind chill.
And with the same friendly
nonchalance
one
usually
reserves for chatting with
a neighbor, he tells me he’s
now retired and lives with
his wife in Grosse Pointe, MI
— but, of course, he’s put his
life on hold to protest out-
side the president’s home. He
warmly remarks that his wife
is learning how to shovel the
snow off their driveway in his
absence, and that she’s proud
of it too.
Tad also says, somewhat
apologetically, that he would
invite me into his tiny trailer,
but it’s so cramped that one
has to hunch their shoul-
ders to walk inside; he even
has to keep his apples and
oranges in the microwave
due to the lack of space. The
right-most tent from the side
that faces the street houses
nothing but maize T-shirts,
emblazoned with the mantra
“Hail to the Victims” in blue
letters and stacked high in
a mass of cardboard boxes.
(“Hail to the Victims” alludes
to the U-M mantra “Hail to
the victors” — forcing the
U-M community to reckon
with its systemic abuse by
juxtaposing it with the Uni-
versity’s culture of school
pride and spirit.) Tad ducks
into the tent to replenish the
stash of shirts on the plastic
table outside the campground
that displays a sign reading
“FREE HAIL TO THE VIC-
TIMS T-SHIRTS.” Next to
the table is a maize mailbox
labeled “815 ½ Vaughn.”
After
sharing
his
own
Anderson story, Tad then
tells me about another sur-
vivor who was so scarred by
Anderson that he refused to
seek any medical attention
for decades after his abuse
physically ended. The survi-
vor, Chuck Christian, is the
first former U-M football
player to publicly speak out
against his abuse by Ander-
son; he told the Detroit Free
Press in April 2020 that he
refused to seek proper medi-
cal attention for decades
because he “associated (doc-
tors) with fear, with pain,”
despite having suffered from
symptoms
of
serious
ill-
ness since around 2005. And
now, Christian is terminally
ill, with stage four prostate
cancer. “No matter how sick
I was, I would never go to
the doctor,” he said in the
2020 Free Press interview.
Decades after his time at the
University, Christian’s abuse
has directly, and irreparably,
cost him his life.
Christian is not the only
Anderson
survivor
whose
trauma has caused trepida-
tion toward seeking proper
medical care. According to
a GoFundMe page update,
on his 32nd day of protest-
ing outside the president’s
house,
Anderson
survivor
Jon Vaughn felt a lump in
his neck. Shannon Henry, his
friend and fellow survivor of
sexual assault who had estab-
lished the page, urged Vaughn
to seek medical attention.
She writes, “But after being
sexually assaulted by a doc-
tor, the last person you want
to see is a doctor.” Eventually
and thankfully, however, he
sought medical care and was
diagnosed: Vaughn had thy-
roid cancer.
The day Tad talked to me,
Jan. 21, was the day that
Vaughn underwent surgery
to remove the nodule in his
thyroid. Tad says that he
received a text earlier that
day at around 2 p.m. inform-
ing him that Vaughn had
about an hour of surgery left.
And rather than get the prop-
er rest he needs at home or in
the hospital, Vaughn, in his
tireless commitment to hold-
ing the University account-
able for its long history of
covering for sexual abusers,
wanted to return to his camp-
site the next day. A GoFund-
Me page update penned on
the day of the surgery by
Larry Nassar survivor Trinea
Gonczar says, “Most know
us as these freedom fighter
radicals that have been on the
front lines of survival. But
today, this, is different. Life is
precious. I’m reminded.”
Back at the campground,
signs rooted in snow articu-
late slogans like “Hail to the
Victims,” and “Students +
Survivors Equally STAND.”
One
simply
inscribed
in
blue Sharpie catches my eye:
“Mark — I AM STILL HERE
-Jon.” Under it, someone has
replied hauntingly in red
marker: “(and you won’t be!).”
As students of this University
— which has actively worked
to protect predators, time and
time again — we have a moral
obligation to stand with all
survivors of sexual assault on
this campus, like Vaughn, in
support and solidarity. When
I ask Tad what someone like
me can do to help his cause,
he tells me he would appreci-
ate receiving hand warmers
such as those from HotHands
which can be found at the
Target on State Street. But,
Tad says, the most important
asset that students can give to
the survivors is our support,
through actions like wear-
ing a “Hail to the Victims”
T-shirt, attending the future
rallies that Tad says the sur-
vivors are currently organiz-
ing and spreading awareness
to denounce and address the
culture of sexual violence and
lack of accountability that the
University has continually
maintained. Additionally, the
aforementioned GoFundMe
effort donates financial sup-
port to Vaughn’s mission “to
ensure the safety and healing
of those entrusted to the Uni-
versity of Michigan’s care,
past, present, and future.”
Tad says it has been incred-
ible
to
witness
students
approaching him and sharing
their stories, confiding in him
their own encounters with
sexual abuse. And then I feel
compelled to tell him some-
thing that not many people in
my life know, which is that I,
too, am a survivor of sexual
assault.
Tad’s brows immediately
furrow. “Did this happen
here?” he asks me, his tone
somber and urgent. I answer,
and he looks into my eyes and
tells me, “I believe you.” It is
my first time hearing those
words.
On days when I open my
eyes to the rays of sunlight
gleaming through the window
of my apartment bedroom, I
get a certain sense of seren-
ity — almost like everything is
okay. And even if it’s not now,
it will be okay. The sunlight
bounces off the mirrors in my
room, making small rainbows
in the corners where the walls
meet the ceiling. It makes the
hardwood floors seem a lighter
shade of oak brown and fades
the scuffs and scratches that
once marked my bedroom
walls. It makes the 16th floor
that I live on no longer seem
so daunting. On mornings like
those, I feel happy.
To me, the sun is no longer an
objective term — a burning ball
of fire, the center of our uni-
verse, the source of our light. It
has become synonymous with
happiness and a certain sense
of nostalgia. It reminds me of
the three-bedroom ranch home
where I was born and raised for
half of my life. The home where
I learned to love chaos, noise
and laughter. It reminds me of
my four siblings and I piling
up to sleep in one room despite
the plentiful amount of space
for all of us around the house.
It reminds me of the trampo-
line in our backyard and the
days when the sun made it
warm enough for us to jump
on it until nightfall. The tram-
poline that I slowly watched
lost springs and nails and nets
and eventually, its guests over
the years. It reminds me of
afternoons spent with my two
older sisters; one with a flat
iron in her hand straightening
her bleach blonde highlighted
hair and the other at the van-
ity in our shared room pressing
blue glitter eyeshadow all over
her eyelids. As Britney Spears
played in the background off
the sticker-adorned hot pink
stereo, I would watch from the
corner in awe. The sun shined
so brightly in that home — it
made me feel safe, it made me
feel light and it made every-
thing feel euphoric.
And my love for the sun is
what fuels my hatred for win-
ter. Winters have always been
the harshest time of the year
for me — especially Michigan
winters. One would expect that
I would be used to the bitter
cold of the winter months by
now. After all, these winters
are the only winters I know.
But watching my days get
shorter and shorter, feeling my
nose sting the moment I step
outside and hearing the birds
slowly stop chirping never gets
easier, no matter how many
times I’ve lived it. The sun
stops showing her face as much
this time of year. And runny
noses, gloves and jackets have
just never managed to become
my forte. I only trudge through
the winters so that I can make
it to the time of the year when
everything is reborn. When the
sun comes back out and gives
myself and the world around
me life again. When the grass
turns green and the flowers
bloom and everything begins
to sparkle.
But me and the sun’s love is
complicated.
And the sun can be cruel.
I remember the first time I
fell asleep in the sun. For days
after, I watched as my olive
skin reddened and blistered.
It stung and shriveled up and
eventually peeled off.
How could something I love
so much be so bad to me?
It was sunny when I fell and
broke my wrist in the second
grade. It was sunny when I got
rejected from my dream uni-
versity in high school. It was
sunny when I experienced my
first heartbreak. It was sunny
as I walked home with tears
in my eyes convinced I failed
my accounting exam (for the
record, I didn’t). It was sunny
every single time I received
news of the loss of a loved one.
It was loss that forced me to
see the sun in a new light — a
much bleaker light. I watched
the sunrays bounce off the
walls of my bedroom that
once brought me so much love
through sobs and teary eyes. I
watched those same sunrays
bounce off tombstones at the
cemetery. The irony.
So sometimes I question how
I can love the sun. On one hand,
I love the sun because she rep-
resents everything good. But
the sun has not always been
good to me. And that makes
me a living testament to the
fact that we love the things that
sometimes hurt us the most.
I often wonder what that
says about me. As humans,
our love is intrinsic. Our love
has no barriers and sometimes
happens without us realiz-
ing it. And that’s exactly what
happened with the Sun and I.
When we love, we allow (and
some may even say force) our-
selves to put down a wall and
accept vulnerability. It’s scary,
but in turn, we sometimes let
that love blind us from seeing
the bad.
But that’s just the thing
about the sun — sometimes it
burns you.
Not just TikTok drama: We
need to reassess how we
talk about sexual assault
Hail to the Victims: A thank-you letter to
Anderson survivors
The sun burns
Courtesy of Jessica Kwon/MiC
Design by Priya Ganji
KATHERINA ANDRADE OZAETTA
MiC Assistant Editor
JESSICA KWON
MiC Managing Editor
REEM HASSAN
MiC Columnist
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