09/30/2026
The conversation shouldn’t end with “save our daughters.”
It should begin with “teach our sons.”
The recent allegations involving seven Cornell students are disturbing and painful to read about. The criminal investigation has now been reopened, and the case is receiving renewed scrutiny.
As an Indigenous person, and as someone who cares deeply about our communities, I believe this conversation needs to reach beyond one university, one incident, or one group of people.
Yes, we must teach our daughters how to recognize danger, protect themselves, trust their instincts, and know their worth.
But we also have to ask ourselves:
Why are we placing so much responsibility on our daughters to protect themselves from behavior that should never happen in the first place?
We need to teach our sons.
Teach them respect.
Teach them consent.
Teach them boundaries.
Teach them that “no” means no.
Teach them that intoxication is not consent.
Teach them that another person’s body is never theirs to take.
Teach them to speak up when their friends cross a line.
And most importantly, teach them that being a man means having the character to do what is right, even when nobody is watching.
And this is where we need to have an uncomfortable conversation within our own communities.
For many Indigenous families, conversations about s*x, consent, s*xual violence, and inappropriate behavior can be considered taboo. They can become the hush-hush conversations, the things we don’t talk about at the dinner table, the things we hope our children somehow learn on their own, or the things we only discuss after something has already happened.
But silence doesn’t educate our children.
These conversations need to happen openly, honestly, and appropriately. Our children need to know what healthy relationships look like, what respect looks like, what consent means, what boundaries are, and what to do when something doesn’t feel right.
Talking about these subjects doesn’t take away from our values. It reinforces them.
Because this kind of behavior doesn’t simply appear out of nowhere. The values we teach or fail to teach at home can shape the people our children become.
As Indigenous people, we know what it means to live as a minority and to confront systems where questions of justice, accountability, and equal treatment can feel very different depending on who is standing before them. That history makes it even more important for us to look inward and strengthen our own communities, not through fear, but through education, accountability, respect, and hózhó: a path toward harmony and balance.
We cannot control everything that happens in this world. But we can control what we teach our children.
We can raise daughters who know their worth. And we can raise sons who understand that respect is not optional.
Let’s protect our daughters.
Let’s save our daughters.
But let’s also teach our sons.
Because prevention begins long before a crisis. And accountability begins with what we are willing to teach, model, and demand from one another.
“Beauty is Restored.”
But if it ain’t sustained, there is no beauty anywhere to be found.
I am deeply disappointed by the allegations surrounding the seven men involved and by the circumstances surrounding Cornell’s handling of this case. Accountability should never depend on who someone is, where they come from, or how much power an institution has.
Our daughters deserve safety.
Our sons deserve guidance.
And our communities deserve better.🫶🏼
