I’m going to go out on a limb and say that people who read this column regularly do so more for the purpose of amusement than edification.

I harbor no delusions that my column on carp ignited a fire in someone’s belly or that my construction of the Easter Bunny as a symbolic measure of my passing youth catalyzed impassioned discussions on aging, rabbits or the commercialization of religious holidays.

Just for this week, though, I’m going to pretend I’m on the Forum page so I can write about an important issue. I can only hope that you, dear reader, will look past my ridiculous column mug and take what I have to say next seriously:

Shame is such a strong force on this campus that it prevents us from addressing our problems. This needs to stop.

At tonight’s Take Back the Night rally, sexual assault will be the front-and-center issue – and rightfully so. But shame is the reason we must stage such an event in the first place. Think about it: Why else would we need to annually block out four hours of one night to reclaim our right to talk openly against something so ugly, yet so pervasive?

The reason, of course, is that shame silences sexual assault. Shame, in fact, silences many issues on this campus.

This is how it works: Our campus community has collectively set and obeys certain standards. Whenever people fail to meet these standards, either by their own actions or because of circumstances beyond their control, shame springs into action. Shame disgraces. It shuns. It creates self-doubt. It mocks and loathes and sneers. And it silences.

Shame is a powerful and persistent force on campus. I know because I’ve seen it work.

For two years I’ve worked as a resident assistant and a residence hall coordinator. Contrary to popular belief, most RAs and RHCs spend far more time listening and counseling than they do laying down the law. Dozens of students have chosen to share what they consider their shameful secrets with me – and no one else.

Students on this campus have been sexually assaulted, and you’ll hear from them tonight if you attend the coffeehouse, which I hope you do. But you won’t hear from the countless students with learning disabilities, eating disorders, alcohol and drug addictions, depression, suicidal thoughts and other emotional problems. You won’t help them decide between counseling or withdrawing from school. You won’t know when they’re at Evanston Hospital because they’ve taken too many pills. You won’t see them scream and throw things and cry.

It’s almost as if students pledge to live by some unspoken and unwritten rule when they sign their entrance papers to this school: “I promise never to have problems; but if I do, I swear I will not let them show.”

I’m not suggesting that privacy isn’t important. But a culture that discourages people from voicing problems, even when they want to do so, is a different matter entirely. Shame silences, and silence stigmatizes. And when people believe their problem is taboo, they have less of a tendency to seek help from those around them.

On the other hand, a community that encourages and supports its members to speak out contributes powerfully to the healing process, a benefit not only the individual, but to the group as well.

If you don’t believe me, come to tonight’s rally and coffeehouse, one of the only times on this campus when its acceptable to have a problem. You’ll see what happens when we silence shame. nyou