Assignment: How does understanding concepts of rape and sexual abuse victims  better improve my role as a social worker in foster care. ( barriers, role in prevention, coping, prevalence).  Your paper

Tracy N. Hipp

Sarah L. Cook

On nearly any given day over the past few years, multiple national media outlets have published a report, story, or opinion column on campus sexual assault. Some of these have generated a great deal of controversy, such as reporting in Rolling Stone about a student’s experience at the University of Virginia (Erdely, 2014). Millennials may be surprised by the media attention and assume that sexual assault is a relatively new phenomenon, yet little could be further from reality. Across time, cultures, and contexts, sexual assault and rape have been pervasive in the lives of women. As we write, women fleeing political violence in the Middle East and North Africa are at risk of sexual assault before their treacherous journeys end (Bennhold, 2016), a major celebrity is charged with sexually assaulting many women (Ember & Bowley, 2015), and the number of higher educational institutions under investigation for violations related to their handling of sexual-assault cases grows (Mangan, 2016).

Our goals in this chapter are threefold. First, we elucidate the challenges of understanding what rape and sexual assault are and how to study them. Next, we provide a brief overview of the history of campus sexual-assault research, including the extent of victimization on college campuses and the risk of victimization of women in diverse groups. Finally, we briefly summarize the state of research on campus sexual-assault perpetration.

Our goals appear straightforward but quickly become complicated when defining rape and sexual assault. Definitions vary by the goals of the institution creating the definition (e.g., the criminal justice system defines criminal behavior) and by the purpose of the definition (e.g., social scientists define sexually aggressive behavior for research, and policy makers use definitions to shape what they do or do not do about a problem).

In general, the public does not have an informed and shared understanding of rape and sexual assault. When many people think of rape, their thoughts are shaped by media portrayals (Franiuk, Seefelt, & Vandello, 2008). An image that pops into mind is stereotypical: A stranger violently rapes a woman, using a weapon, late at night, and probably in an isolated alley. The stranger may or may not be mentally ill. While this image may describe some rapes, the number is likely very, very small (Sinozich & Langton, 2014). In contrast, most women are raped by someone they know, such as a friend, a coworker, or a romantic partner (Black et al., 2011). That a woman can be raped by someone she knows is surprising to many and often discounted as a personal matter (Sinozich & Langton, 2014) or not serious (Fisher, Daigle, Cullen, & Turner, 2003a). Despite educational programming, advances in the field, and publicity about high-profile cases of women whose experiences qualify as rape, only half acknowledge that they have been raped. This is a figure that has remained unchanged for decades (Fisher et al., 2003a; Koss, Gidycz, & Wisniewski, 1987).

Sexual assault refers to a broad category of nonconsensual sexual behaviors, such as touching or kissing, and rape is obtained through a coercive act, such as force, intentional incapacitation, or verbal threats. Rape is a specific, extreme form of sexual assault. Rape requires the penetration of a person’s body (i.e., vagina, anus, or mouth) with a body part (e.g., penis or finger) or an object without that person’s consent. The tactics used to obtain penetration are varied, as they are with sexual assault. Rape and sexual assault are legal terms and describe illegal behavior that can be prosecuted by federal or various state laws. Some states prosecute rape and sexual assault by degrees (i.e., first, second, and third degrees). Others do not. Often, rape and sexual assault co-occur with other forms of violence against women, such as intimate partner violence (Coker, Smith, McKeown, & King, 2000; Perilla, Lippy, Rosales, & Serrata, 2011), and are included in definitions of other forms of violence against women, such as sexual harassment. Sexual harassment in the workplace includes rape and violates three federal laws. In 2011, the definition of sexual harassment on college campuses expanded to encompass sexual violence, including sexual assault and rape (U.S. Department of Education, Office of Civil Rights, 2011).

Most social-science studies on rape and sexual assault use a definition that includes experiences of rape, attempted rape, and other forms of nonconsensual sexual contact that may or may not be considered illegal. Definitions are set forth in questions posed to study participants in behavioral terms, a method deemed the gold standard by the scientific community (S. Cook, Gidycz, Koss, & Murphy, 2011; Krebs, 2014). For example, a question asking about rape from the Sexual Experiences Survey–Revised (Koss et al., 2007) is phrased, “A man put his penis into my vagina, or someone inserted fingers or objects without my consent by …” followed by one of five tactics, such as “threatening to physically harm me or someone close to me.” Research definitions may mirror criminal and civil codes, public-health definitions, those by global organizations, or other behaviors not included in any of these definitions (e.g., see S. Cook & Parrott, 2009). All of these actors—legal systems, global organizations, and researchers—exist dynamically. Research continually advances understanding, laws and definition change, and both actions influence each other. For example, years of research on how rape is committed preceded the U.S. Federal Bureau of Investigation’s (FBI) revised definition of rape. The old definition, “The carnal knowledge of a female forcibly and against her will,” gave way to the vastly improved gender-neutral definition, which includes penetration of a body in any form: “The penetration, no matter how slight, of the vagina or anus with any body part or object, or oral penetration by a sex organ of another person, without the consent of the victim” (FBI, 2014). Definitions will continue to evolve as researchers continue to document how sexual violence manifests within cultures (S. Cook & Parrott, 2009; White, Yuan, Cook, & Abbey, 2013).

The documentation of the problem of rape and sexual assault began on a college campus nearly 60 years ago with a convenience sample of 163 women at a southern university (Kanin, 1957). The study reported the number and percentage of “offended girls by maximum of erotic intimacy” (p. 198). Only those incidents that were “offensive and displeasing” (p. 19) were investigated: (1) “attempts at necking,” (2) “petting above the waist,” (3) “petting below the waist,” (4) “sexual intercourse,” and (5) “a more violent attempt at sexual intercourse accompanied by ‘menacing threats or coercive infliction of physical pain.’” The data revealed that 62% of women had experienced at least one form of sexual aggression before entering college. Nearly 30% reported attempted intercourse or attempted intercourse with violence. Kanin did not ask whether any attempts were completed. These findings were most likely unexpected; however, at the time, researchers did not disseminate data beyond academia. These data, which would have been startling, did not enter public dialogue.

Through the turbulent decades of the 1960s and ’70s, despite the influential second wave of feminism and the launch of rape crisis and battered women’s movements, social scientists did not widely study rape and sexual assault outside of correctional settings (e.g., Knight & Prentky, 1990). The absence of data from the general population led to the skewed, stereotypical picture of the violent-stranger rapist. For example, Men Who Rape: The Psychology of the Offender (Groth, 1979) asserted the existence of four types of rapists, along with guidelines for responding to each type if confronted. Understanding your rapist and taking self-defense courses were cast as rape and sexual-assault prevention (Rozee & Koss, 2003; Ullman, 2007).

Thus, in the late 1980s, when Mary Koss conducted a federally funded, nationally representative study of rape victimization and perpetration among higher education students (Koss et al., 1987), many were startled. The finding that 20% of women had been victimized and 8% of men had perpetrated sexual assault challenged the public’s understanding of rape and sexual violence and the image of colleges and universities as idyllic settings for intellectual growth and camaraderie. Unlike Kanin’s much earlier work, these findings were disseminated through popular literature (e.g., Warshaw [1994], I Never Called It Rape).

Soon after the mainstream press began reporting on the study, a student at the College of William and Mary came forward publicly in Time magazine to describe her experience of rape (see Time cover page; Gibbs & Booth, 1991). While riveted at first, the nation’s attention did not last. Resources of federal funding for large-scale independent research dwindled. Only one other independent study of the prevalence of victimization with a nationally representative sample of college students has been funded (Fisher et al., 2003a) as of this writing.

In the United States, nearly 30 years after Koss’s landmark study, President Barack Obama brought the nation’s attention back to sexual assault of college students by convening the White House Task Force on Keeping Students Safe from Sexual Assault (www.notalone.gov). The president’s task force has been one of only very few federal initiatives specifically focused on rape and sexual assault. Examples include portions of the Violence Against Women Act of 1994 and subsequent reauthorizations in 2000, 2002, 2005, and 2013; changes to the Jeanne Clery Disclosure of Campus Security Policy and Campus Crime Statistics Act (Clery Act, 1990); and the “Dear Colleague” letter “that explains that the requirements of Title IX pertaining to sexual harassment also cover sexual violence, and lays out the specific Title IX requirements applicable to sexual violence” (U.S. Department of Education, Office of Civil Rights, 2011, p. 1). Combined, these actions have broken a code of silence.

Ensuing documentaries, such as The Hunting Ground (Ziering & Dick, 2015); investigative books, such as Missoula (Krakauer, 2015); and the growing number of institutions under investigation by the Department of Education’s Office of Civil Rights for violating Title IX (1972) have kept the issue in the news cycles. People focused on campus sexual assault may not realize that one of the primary triggers for the intense investigation is the gross violations of the Clery Act at Pennsylvania State University that allowed assistant football coach Jerry Sandusky to sexually abuse young boys for years (Freeh Sporkin & Sullivan, LLP, 2012). Two hundred and forty-three OCR investigations for Title IX violations have opened since 2011 (Mangan, 2016), with 199 investigations currently ongoing (S. L. Knox, Office for Civil Rights, personal communication, January 26, 2016). Title IX investigations may result from a variety of infractions in the ways schools handle sexual-assault cases, such as not taking action within a timely manner or retaliating against a student who has filed a complaint. The rate at which new investigations open is so high that the Chronicle of Higher Education published a Title IX Investigation Tracker and updates a list of schools based on Freedom of Information Act (FOIA) requests (Mangan, 2016).

Given the growing number of campus advocacy organizations and national groups (e.g., End Rape on Campus, Know Your IX, and Safer Campus), more people than ever are learning about rape and how to become involved in ending it (Grigoriadis, 2014; Grinberg, 2014). The enormity of this shift cannot be understated. At its core, not only is this shift changing policies and practices on college campuses, it has the potential to disrupt gender roles (e.g., men as sexual aggressors and women as gatekeepers), sexual scripts (e.g., the idea that women say “no” when they mean “yes” ), and sex education (e.g., active consent), all fundamental to either maintaining or preventing sexual assault (Hipp et al., 2015). The future may hold state-level rape law reform; changes in investigative practices; and additional, targeted federal legislation that supports research needed to develop, translate, and disseminate effective interventions.

Researchers make many choices when designing a quantitative study (S. Cook, Hamby, Stith, McCollum, & Mehne, 2013). After selecting a definition of their primary construct (e.g., rape), researchers must choose a method for asking questions. Telephone, written, and online surveys are options, as are in-person interviews. All methods have strengths and limitations (Whitley & Kite, 2013). Another consideration is the sample. For purposes of estimating the prevalence of an experience, the best sample is randomly selected; when it is important to capture experiences across diverse characteristics thought to influence experiences, stratified random sampling (SRS) is best (see Whitley, 1996). These studies are complex and require significant resources, which is why convenience samples are most common in research with college students. Nevertheless, from a scientific standpoint, studies that use nationally representative samples and behaviorally specific language to ask about rape and attempted rape provide the best lifetime prevalence estimates.

The U.S. government has sponsored several independent studies to estimate the lifetime prevalence of rape and sexual assault among adults. These studies yield estimates from 10.6% (Second Injury Control and Risk Survey, 2001–2003 [Basile, Chen, Black, & Saltzman, 2007]) to approximately 18% (17.6% in the National Violence Against Women Survey, 1995–1996 [Tjaden & Thoennes, 2000]; 18% in Drug-Facilitated, Incapacitated, and Forcible Rape: A National Study [Kilpatrick, Resnick, Ruggiero, Conoscenti, & McCauley, 2007]; and 18.3% in the National Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey, 2010 [NISVS; Black et al., 2011]). Because sampling and procedures across these studies were similar, the source of variation in estimates is likely due to whether gate or screening questions were used, whether rape was behaviorally defined, and what tactics (e.g., force, threat of force, incapacitation) to obtain intercourse were ascertained. Screening questions are typically broad, lack specificity, and produce underestimates (S. Cook et al., 2011).

We cannot extrapolate these aforementioned rape and sexual-assault estimates to college students because students are a subset of the national population, and further, they comprise a subset of predominantly 18- to 24-year-olds. For example, in 2013, less than half (approximately 40%) of 18- to 24-year-olds were enrolled in higher education (Kena et al., 2016). Although the percentage of college students may seem small compared to the national population, they also constitute a population vulnerable to assault, which may threaten many of the benefits typically conferred to graduates (e.g., higher income, better health, esteemed employment). Three independent, nationally representative studies strongly suggest that approximately 20% of women college students experience rape or attempted rape, with many of these experiences occurring either before entering college (Brener, McMahon, Warren, & Douglas, 1999; Fisher, Daigle, Cullen, & Turner, 2003b; Koss et al., 1987) or in the first year (Kimble, Neacsiu, Flack, & Horner, 2008; Krebs, Lindquist, Warner, Fisher, & Martin, 2009). Recently, in the context of validating a campus climate survey, averaging across nine volunteer institutions, 10% of women reported sexual assault within the 2014–2015 academic year, 20% since entering college, and 34% within their lifetimes (Krebs, Lindquist, Berzofsy, Shook-Sa, & Peterson, 2016). Four percent experienced completed rape during the 2014–2015 academic year (Krebs et al., 2016).

The Census Bureau predicts that the U.S. will have a majority minority population by 2043. College students increasingly reflect the diverse nature of the United States, in ways seen (e.g., color of their skin) and unseen (e.g., an invisible disability or identity). As just one example, the enrollment of students of color far outpaces white student enrollment (Kena et al., 2016). As of 2014, 16.5% of students identified as Hispanic, 6.6% identified as Asian/Pacific Islander, and 14.5% identified as black (NCES, 2015).

Naturally, the diversity of institutions (e.g., public; private, not for profit; private, for profit) intersects with the diversity of college students, who differ on dimensions of ethnicity and race, sexual orientation, abilities, age, socioeconomic status, and immigration status. A critical need in this field of research is to understand experiences of rape and sexual assault in diverse groups and settings, the intersectionality of diversity, and how risk is distributed across these dimensions.

Racial- and ethnic-group differences in women’s victimization experience persist (for a review, see Abbey, Jacques-Tiura, & Parkhill, 2010). In the most recent national study, multiracial women reported the highest prevalence of rape (32.3%) and sexual assault (64.1%), followed by American Indian and Alaska Native women (AIAN; 27.5% and 55%), black women (21.2% and 38.2%), white women (20.5% and 46.9%), and Hispanic women (13.6% and 35.6%; Breiding et al., 2014). Reliable rape estimates for Asian and Pacific Islander women were not available due to their small number in this sample, yet this group reported considerable sexual violence other than rape (31.9%). In a community-based probability sample, Asian and Pacific Islander women were less likely to report rape, sexual, or interpersonal violence compared to other racial or ethnic groups (Crisanti, Frueh, Gundaya, Salvail, & Triffleman, 2011; also see Harrell, 2009, for reports in the National Criminal Victimization Survey). Asian Americans may be less likely to report victimization due to specific cultural norms (see White et al., 2013, for discussion of how culture may influence self-reports). Further, collapsing any heterogeneous group obscures important ethnoracial differences. While white respondents have reported a higher lifetime prevalence of sexual assault, Native Hawaiian and Pacific Islanders (though not Asian Americans) were most likely to report experiencing sexual assault in the past 12 months (Crisanti et al., 2011). These persistent differences in victimization rates reflect systematic variation in terms of power, resources, environmental context, and customs. For example, American Indian and Alaska Native women’s limited educational and employment opportunities and greater likelihood of living below the poverty line may be related to high rates of victimization (Bachman, Zaykowki, Lanier, Poteyeva, & Kallmyer, 2010).

Surprisingly, little national data on ethnically and racially diverse college students’ experiences exists. Early data illustrated that among all women in the sample, 16% of white, 10% of black, 12% of Hispanic, 7% of Asian, and 4% of Native American college women were victimized by rape (Koss et al., 1987). Rather than reporting the percentage of women in each racial or ethnic group who reported rape, Fisher and colleagues (2003b) described the racial and ethnic breakdown of all women in the sample who had been victimized (85% were white, nearly 7% were Latina or Hispanic, 5% were African American, and approximately 4% “other non-Hispanic” ). Thus, these numbers cannot be directly compared because they use different denominators (Fisher’s being the total number of women victimized and Koss’s being the size of the racial or ethnic group in the sample). In the Campus Climate Validation study, which was not a nationally representative sample, rates of sexual assault did not differ by race (Krebs et al., 2016).

Racial differences in victimization rates may vary based upon the act or tactic assessed. For example, women of color in a random sample drawn from two campuses were more likely to experience physically forced and incapacitated sexual assault compared to their white peers (Krebs, Lindquist, Warner, Fisher, & Martin, 2007). Type of institution may also influence experiences or reporting. Students enrolled at historically black colleges and universities (HBCUs) reported significantly fewer sexual-assault experiences than a comparison sample of students from non-HBCUs (Krebs et al., 2011). White students may be at increased risk due to more frequent alcohol consumption, given the link between intoxication and risk of sexual assault (Krebs et al., 2011; Lindquist et al., 2013; Mohler-Kuo, Dowdall, Koss, & Wechsler, 2004). Others have hypothesized that black women do not want to add to society’s already negative view of black men and therefore may be less likely to report victimization (Pierce-Baker, 1998).

The sociopolitical landscape has dramatically shifted in recent years in terms of how sexual minorities have been treated and viewed within the United States. It remains to be seen, however, whether increased protections (e.g., the Matthew Shepard and James Byrd Jr. Hate Crime Prevention Act of 2009) and rights (e.g., marriage equality; Obergefell v. Hodges, 2015) will eventually lead to a decrease in violence, such as sexual violence, perpetrated against this community. Sexual-minority communities are at disproportionate risk of sexual violence across the lifespan (e.g., Balsam, Rothblum, & Beauchaine, 2005; Hughes, Johnson, & Wilsnack, 2001; Hughes et al., 2010; Katz-Wise & Hyde, 2012; Tjaden, Thoennes, & Allison, 1999). With few exceptions (Bernhard, 2000; Descamps, Rothblum, Bradford, & Ryan, 2000), patterns of increased risk of sexual assault against lesbian and bisexual women appear in community- and population-based samples (e.g., Rothman, Exner, & Baughman, 2011). The most recent national probability data on sexual assault suggest that bisexual women, more so than lesbian women, are at increased risk of rape (Black et al., 2011). Nearly half of women who identified as bisexual reported rape within their lifetimes, whereas 13% of lesbian and 17% of heterosexual women did (Walters, Chen, & Breiding, 2013). The same trend held when assessing sexual violence other than rape, with approximately 75% of bisexual women, 46.4% of lesbian women, and 43.4% of heterosexual women self-reporting.

Fewer studies have investigated sexual violence against sexual-minority college students (Duncan, 1990; S. L. Martin, Fisher, Warner, Krebs, & Lindquist, 2011; Rothman & Silverman, 2007), and only one used a large, stratified random sample (S. L. Martin et al., 2011). These studies demonstrate patterns in the general population, with sexual-minority women at greater risk than their heterosexual peers or with lesbian and heterosexual women’s risk being statistically equivalent while bisexual women are disproportionately affected. Reports by sexual-minority women may not be due directly to their sexual identity but, rather, a product of the sexual-revictimization relationship (S. L. Martin et al., 2011). That is, sexual-minority women report more childhood sexual abuse and forced and incapacitated rape than heterosexual women.

Seen and unseen disabilities may produce significant risk for assault. In the general population, women with disabilities face more than twice the risk of sexual assault compared to women without a disability (Rand & Harrell, 2009). Other regionally or nationally representative data suggest that the risk may be 4 times as high (Casteel, Martin, Smith, Gurka, & Kupper, 2008; S. Martin et al., 2006), particularly against those with more severe disabilities (Casteel et al., 2008). High school girls with a physical disability are more likely to be raped than nondisabled peers (Alriksson-Schmidt, Armour, & Thibadeau, 2010), and individuals (men and women) with cognitive disabilities experience significantly more instances of violent victimization, which includes rape and sexual assault, than those with other forms of disability (Harrell, 2014).

Research on the victimization experiences of college women with disabilities is limited, focusing solely on sexual violence within the context of an intimate relationship (Anderson & Leigh, 2011; Porter & Williams, 2011, 2013; Scherer, Snyder, & Fisher, 2014) and primarily focusing on students who are deaf and hard of hearing (Anderson & Leigh, 2011; Porter & Williams, 2011, 2013). One study found no statistically significant differences in the likelihood of reported sexual victimization (i.e., rape, attempted rape, or sexual abuse) by a partner among students who were deaf and hard of hearing compared to their hearing peers (Porter & Williams, 2011). Yet limited data suggest that sexual assault against students who are deaf and hard of hearing, a small proportion of students with disabilities (Scherer, 2011), may be as prevalent as sexual assault against their hearing and/or nondisabled peers (Anderson & Leigh, 2011; Porter & Williams, 2011). Importantly, however, students who are deaf and hard of hearing may be less likely than other students who have been assaulted to report their experiences or seek out supportive services (Anderson & Kobek Pezzarossi, 2011).

Younger women are at higher risk of rape than women in mid- or later adulthood (Black et al., 2011). Tragically, the vast majority of rape survivors are assaulted before the age of 25, with a significant proportion first victimized before the age of 18. NVIS data illustrate the risk associated with younger age: 12.1% of survivors of rape were first victimized between birth and 10 years old, 28.3% between 11 and 17 years old, 38.3% between 18 and 24 years old, 15.2% between 25 and 34 years old, 4.6% between 35 and 44 years old, and 1.5% at age 45 and older (Breiding et al., 2014). Over one third of those raped as minors were raped again in their adult life (Black et al., 2011).

Specifically among college students, women under the age of 21 are at greater risk of experiencing rape than their older peers (Mohler-Kuo et al., 2004). In both a large random sample from two universities (Krebs et al., 2007) and a smaller community-based sample (Gross, Winslett, Roberts, & Gohm, 2006), women reported more victimization during their first 2 years at university compared to subsequent years enrolled. Longitudinal studies are beginning to show that risk of victimization changes differentially across years in higher education, partially due to the effect of prior childhood experiences of sexual abuse (Swartout, Swartout, & White, 2011).

While older women are at less risk than younger women, they are understudied (J. M. Cook, Dinnen, & O’Donnell, 2011). Older women (65 and above) may be less likely to report sexual victimization due to generational differences in language or conceptualizations of rape or sexual assault (J. M. Cook et al., 2011). The older population in the United States is projected to double in coming decades, and service personnel will need to attend to the experiences of a growing population of older trauma survivors, particularly older women of color, who report more victimization yet constitute less of what is known about older rape survivors.

Federal data collected from 1994 to 2010 showed that women with low income experienced higher rates of sexual assault than women with high income (Planty, Langton, Krebs, Berzofsky, & Smiley-McDonald, 2013). However, literature on the relationship between women’s socioeconomic status and risk of rape reveals inconsistent findings, likely due to the complexities of distinguishing between women’s status as measured solely in terms of income rather than status measured by income and other educational or occupational advancement (for discussion, see K. Martin, Vieraitis, & Britto, 2006). While women’s socioeconomic status in society is higher, their risk of rape may be lower, but in cities where women reach a status comparable to men’s (e.g., through education and occupation), their risk of rape is higher than women whose educational or professional achievements do not challenge men’s superiority. As researchers seek to verify a consistent pattern in the relationship between women’s socioeconomic status and rates of rape, most seem to agree that in its most basic form, income matters. Women with higher incomes may be able to do more to “purchase their safety,” such as choosing to live in neighborhoods where they feel safe, not relying on public transportation, or having the ability to leave unsafe working conditions. However, women’s financial resources may not have the same purchasing power across all contexts.

Income was not related to victimization in the first national study of college students (Koss et al., 1987). Yet in most studies of rape and sexual assault on campus, socioeconomic status is not examined. Many college women experience assault before they enter higher education. In a nationally representative survey of youth ages 12 to 17, household income was negatively related to lifetime sexual assault for Caucasian but not African American or Hispanic/Latino adolescents. The protective effect of higher family income did not extend to adolescents of color (Crouch, Hanson, Saunders, Kilpatrick, & Resnick, 2000).

Immigrants contribute to the prosperity of the U.S., yet today, immigrants face increasingly negative attitudes. Lawmakers, candidates for elected office, and the general public hotly debate immigration policy. Earlier, we alluded to the risk of sexual assault during the process of migration. However, the threat of sexual assault does not end upon arrival in the United States. The relationship between immigration status and sexual assault and rape victimization is difficult to ascertain. For some immigrant communities, data are relatively nonexistent. For others, a growing body of literature reveals a number of methodological concerns. For example, research on Latinas’ victimization experiences may cluster women from various countries under one umbrella, regardless of the fact that victimization rates likely vary by country of origin. Further, much of this work has pointed to the role of acculturation as a risk or protective factor for immigrant women, yet these studies have used immigration (e.g., first generation versus second generation) as a proxy variable for acculturation or have otherwise used single-item measures to capture the construct of acculturation, suggesting that it is a static or discrete variable rather than a process.

We know most about Latina women of Mexican descent, who, when born in the U.S., are at greater risk of sexual victimization than women who are foreign born or Mexican nationals (Borges et al., 2013; Sabina, Cuevas, & Schally, 2012). Among immigrant women, those with permanent legal status are at greater risk for victimization than those without (Sabina et al., 2012). Latino orientation, or ascribing to more traditional Latino cultural values, appears to protect against sexual assault for those born in Mexico or the U.S., although more so for Mexican-born Latinas than those born in the United States. Women who ascribe to more traditional gender roles and score higher on religiosity are less likely to report victimization, regardless of their immigrant status; therefore, Latino orientation, or the maintenance of traditional cultural values, is a protective factor for women above and beyond their immigrant status. Borges and colleagues (2013) note that U.S.-born Latinas’ inflated risk may be driven by alcohol or drug use, as Mexican migrants are less likely to report substance abuse disorders.

The search for general, consistent victim-centered risk factors has been elusive, with few exceptions, such as prior victimization (Roodman & Clum, 2001), an event that necessitates the presence of a perpetrator. Although important, the development of prevention interventions cannot rest on victim-centered risk factors. Furthermore, the extensive and multifaceted role of alcohol and other drugs cannot be ignored (Abbey, 2011; Abbey, Wegner, Woerner, Pegram, & Pierce, 2014; Davis, Stoner, Norris, George, & Masters, 2009; Griffin, Umstattd, & Usdan, 2010; Norris, Davis, George, Martell, & Heiman, 2002; Ullman, 2003). Alcohol and drugs can be conceptualized as situational risk factors because they impair judgment, decision making, and risk detection; can be used to incapacitate potential victims; can lead to nonconsensual sex with someone who cannot consent due to intoxication; or can be used as a means to cope with the aftermath of victimization (Kilpatrick, Acierno, Resnick, Saunders, & Best, 1997). Before a meaningful reduction in sexual victimization can occur, we need to better understand sexual-violence perpetration.

The first and only national survey that included questions about the perpetration of rape and sexual assault reported that nearly 8% of college men have perpetrated rape or attempted rape since age 14 (7% perpetrated sexual coercion, and 10% perpetrated unwanted sexual contact; Koss et al., 1987). Across a sample of 2,198 men aggregated from nine studies using the Sexual Experiences Survey–Revised (SES-R), 8.1% reported rape or attempted rape, according to the FBI definition, since the age of 14 (Brennan et al., under review). One study suggests higher rates are possible—up to 16% (Thompson, Swartout, & Koss, 2013). Importantly, two studies have demonstrated variation in college men’s patterns of perpetration over time. Each study found that men could be grouped by no or low perpetration over time, increasing rates of perpetration over time, or decreasing rates of perpetration over time (Swartout et al., 2015; Thompson et al., 2013). Thompson and colleagues (2013) found evidence of a fourth group that maintained consistently high rates of perpetration over time.

Emerging work by Brennan and colleagues (under review), using data aggregated from nine studies, shows that perpetrators may differ not only over time, with behavior increasing, decreasing, or remaining the same, but also by the tactics they use to obtain nonconsensual sex. The aggregated data support three groups of men: (1) a group unlikely to perpetrate (89.5%); (2) a group likely to perpetrate sexual assault and rape, using verbal tactics or victim intoxication but not physical force (9.3%); and (3) a group likely to perpetrate all sexually assaultive behaviors, including rape, using a variety of tactics (1.2%; Brennan et al., under review). This study suggests that men who perpetrate rape belong either to a small group of men whose behavior fits outdated rape scripts or another, larger group whose behavior is consistent with normative sexual scripts tantamount to “permissible” sexual aggression (Hipp et al., 2015). This group constitutes most college men who commit rape and should be the focus of future research.

To understand factors that predict college men’s sexual-assault perpetration, researchers have investigated the roles of hostile masculinity (Thompson et al., 2013), hostility toward women (Abbey & McAuslan, 2004), alcohol use (Abbey & McAuslan, 2004; Abbey, Zawacki, Buck, Clinton, & McAuslan, 2001; Carr & VanDeusen, 2004; Thompson et al., 2013; Zawacki, Abbey, Buck, McAuslan, & Clinton-Sherrod, 2003), number of sex partners (Abbey & McAuslan, 2004), peer norms (Krebs et al., 2009; Swartout, 2013; Thompson et al., 2013), membership in all-male groups (Murnen & Kohlman, 2007), and male peer support (Schwartz & DeKeseredy, 1997), among many others (Tharp et al., 2013). Others still have focused on the ways that multiple risk factors combine to create a greater risk of perpetration (Malamuth, Linz, Heavey, Barnes, & Acker, 1995; Malamuth, Sockloskie, Koss, & Tanaka, 1991).

Sixty years after one of the earliest studies of rape and sexual assault on campus, social and behavioral researchers have made great strides in understanding rape and sexual assault. Many who have been in the field, as researchers, practitioners, or advocates, heartily embrace the current focus on rape and sexual assault, particularly on college campuses, and are eager for options to improve research, policy, and practice. We hope this window for change is not short and that transformational leaders like former President Jimmy Carter (2015) speaking out about rape and sexual assault will continue to hold the nation’s attention.

As knowledge about rape and sexual-assault victimization has grown, new questions are revealed, and gaps in our knowledge are exposed. Among these gaps are the nature and scope of college sexual-minority women’s experiences of rape and sexual assault; how risk of victimization varies by disability, in terms of form and severity; how our aging population copes with past victimization, including how vulnerable they are to it as they age; how acculturation across groups immigrating to the U.S. affects risk; and whether and how immigrants on college campuses experience sexual assault. These gaps constitute only a partial list.

Further, the intersectionality of these dimensions of diversity are complex and may require new methods of study. As many will note, the foregoing review does not include an explicit intersectional analysis of students’ experiences. College students are diverse in many ways, and we are still seeking to understand differences in sexual-assault experiences along many of these dimensions. It is essential, however, to keep in mind that each victim has an ethnicity, as well as

a sexuality. Students with disabilities have ethnicities and sexualities. A sexual-minority woman may also be a first-generation American, a racial minority, and have a disability. The intersections of these experiences, what some might describe as multiple marginalized identities, likely inform her experience of sexual assault, from victimization risk to coping processes. More work, such as Porter and William’s (2013) research on sexual-minority students who are deaf and hard of hearing, is sorely needed. Crenshaw (1991) described women with multiple-minority status as existing “within the margins.” Researchers, practitioners, and administrators, if truly seeking to protect all students from sexual assault, may well need to look into the folds, where the most vulnerable remain largely invisible in our work.

The most glaring gap in our knowledge, however, is the lack of information on those who perpetrate rape and sexual assault. In order to prevent rape and sexual assault, we must better understand the impetus for perpetration against not only college students attending a variety of institutions but also women in diverse groups, defined by age, race and ethnicity, socioeconomic status, ability, sexual orientation, and immigration status and acculturation, as well as, critically, the intersectionality of these dimensions of diversity. Likewise, the most current data suggest that men who perpetrate rape and sexual assault are not a monolithic group. Dimensions of diversity that promote or inhibit sexually assaultive behavior need to be identified, such as differences in life experiences, psychological characteristics, responses to the behavior, and social influences on the behavior from peers and other social networks.

Just as rape and sexual-assault perpetration and victimization are multiply determined, so is the variety of circumstances and events that have concentrated a national focus on rape and sexual assault. Rape and sexual assault have been omnipresent across cultures since the earliest centuries. But culture is not static. Just as major behavioral norms related to safe sex, tobacco use, and drunk driving have been shaped by multiple influences in the social ecology, behavioral norms related to nonconsensual behavior can change. It is on all of us.