Content note: I talk about sexual assault and campus response. I keep it plain and not graphic. If you need help, you can call RAINN at 800-656-HOPE. If you’re in danger, call 911.
For details on what to expect when you call, you can visit RAINN’s page about the National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline here.

Why I’m Writing This

I’m Kayla. I was a student. This happened to me. I wish it didn’t, but it did. So I’m sharing what the school did well, what fell flat, and what I wish someone told me sooner. Think of this like a review, but of a system, not a gadget.

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*(For a zoomed-out look at the issue, you can read my honest take on sexual assault on college campuses.)*

*(If numbers help you make sense of things, here’s a round-up of the biggest campus-sexual-assault studies and a separate piece where someone reads the stats so you don’t have to.)*

My Story, Short and Plain

A classmate assaulted me after a small off-campus hangout. That sentence took me months to say. No details here—just the facts that matter for this review.

I called my friend, Sam. We went to the campus health center. A nurse offered choices. She explained a SANE exam (evidence collection) and emergency care. She was calm. She didn’t rush me. We went to a nearby hospital for the exam. An advocate from the local crisis center met me there with a granola bar and a soft voice. Small things can feel huge.

Back on campus, I told the Title IX office. *(I share a blow-by-blow, step-by-step look at how my campus handled the assault in this separate review.)*

How the School Handled It (The Process in Real Life)

• Intake meeting: The Title IX coordinator met me in a small office with bright lights that buzzed. She explained “interim measures.” I could move housing. I could get a no-contact order. I could ask for class changes. I said yes to the no-contact order. It came by email the next day. It looked cold, but it worked. He stopped texting.

• Housing: I moved floors the same week. The RA helped me carry boxes at 10 p.m. We laughed about my plants. That tiny laugh helped.

• Classes: One professor said, “Take the time you need.” She gave extensions without making me tell the whole story. Another asked, “Can you prove this?” That stung. I kept the extension and dropped that class the next month.

• Investigation: It took six months. Six. I told my story four times—to the coordinator, an investigator, a panel, and a campus police officer. Same questions, new room. They collected texts and screenshots. They looked at location pings. A friend shared a group chat where he bragged. That helped my case.

• Hearing: It was on Zoom, which felt weird but safer. A panel asked fair questions and a few clumsy ones. “What were you wearing?” popped up in a roundabout way. I pushed back. The advocate sat with me off-camera and handed me sticky notes with “breathe” on them. I still keep one in my wallet.

• Outcome: He was found responsible. He got a year suspension and a note on his record. I felt relief and also…empty. Relief doesn’t fix sleep.

*Quick aside: Some students decide to bring in outside legal help. I read a handful of first-person stories—about hiring a campus sexual-assault lawyer in Orange County, CA; what actually helped someone who hired one in NYC; working with a campus-sexual-assault attorney in San Diego; partnering with a D.C.-based attorney; and an **honest review from Los Angeles*—before deciding whether that route was right for me.

*(Money wasn’t on my radar, but if you’re curious about dollars and cents, here’s a survivor’s plain-language breakdown of what actually got paid for.)*

Campus Services: The Good, The Slow, The So-So

• Counseling: The first waitlist was five weeks. Five. I counted on my calendar like it was a game I didn’t want to play. When I finally got in, my therapist was kind and trauma-informed. She taught me box breathing. We made a plan for flashbacks. She helped me pass finals.

• Health Center: 4 stars for care. They explained choices. They offered Plan B and STI testing with no judgment. The room smelled like hand soap and peppermint tea.

• Safety: The blue light phones worked, at least the two I tried while walking home. Campus security offered a night escort. I used it once after a late lab. The officer chatted about hot cocoa and midterms. Small talk felt like a blanket.

• Training: Our bystander workshop actually helped. At a party, two friends used the “check, call, and come back” steps when a guy kept cornering a girl near the fridge. They pulled her into our circle and got her water. The guy left. Was it perfect? No. But it changed the vibe, and that matters.

• Tech: The campus safety app let me share my walk home with Sam. It was clunky, but it pinged her if I didn’t check in. My thumb got tired, but my brain rested a bit.

What Actually Helped Me

• The SANE nurse who told me I could stop the exam at any time.
• The advocate with the granola bar and the soft voice.
• A professor who gave extensions without asking for proof.
• A friend who sat on my floor and helped me fold laundry while I cried.
• A simple morning plan: toast, shower, one page of notes, then rest.

What Made It Harder

• The long wait for counseling. Why so long? I still don’t know.
• Getting the same questions again and again, like I was stuck on repeat.
• Emails in legal tone. No warmth. No “we’re with you.”
• Rumors. Campus is small. People talk.

Little Tips I Wish I Knew

• Bring a friend to meetings. Two brains hear more.
• Write down dates and names right away, even if it’s messy.
• Ask for interim measures: class changes, housing moves, no-contact, escorts.
• You can report to Title IX, campus police, both, or neither. Your choice.
• If you want an exam, ask for a SANE nurse at a hospital. Evidence can be stored even if you’re not ready to report.
• Keep screenshots. Back them up. Print them if you can.
• Eat something soft after hard meetings. Applesauce was my go-to. Weird, but it worked.

My Quick Ratings (Because I’m a Reviewer at Heart)

• Health Center: 4/5 — Clear, kind, fast.
• Counseling Center: 3/5 — Great therapist; waitlist was too long.
• Title IX Office: 2.5/5 — Knew the rules; slow timeline; stiff tone.
• Campus Safety: 4/5 —

I’m not a lawyer. I’m a person who cares about students feeling safe. So I sat down with coffee and read through CSUEB’s published rules and the broader CSU policy they follow. (If you’re curious about every clause I sifted through, I put together a detailed walk-through of CSUEB’s policies that you can skim later.) I wanted plain answers. Could a student get help fast? Would the process make sense? Would someone believe them?

You know what? Some parts felt strong. A few parts felt messy. But let me explain.

What CSUEB Says They’ll Do

CSUEB follows CSU system rules about sexual misconduct, dating violence, domestic violence, stalking, and retaliation. For the full California State University system policy, see the CSU Nondiscrimination Policy and Title IX.

Here are the key points I saw, in simple words:

• Multiple ways to report. You can report to the Title IX office, to University Police, or talk to a confidential advocate. You can share your name or report without it. You can also just ask questions. No pressure to start an investigation right away. If you're ready to file or simply explore your choices, CSUEB outlines the steps on its Title IX Reporting and Options page.
• Amnesty for alcohol and drugs. If you report an assault, they say you shouldn’t get in trouble for underage drinking or drug use tied to that incident. That matters after a party.
• Supportive measures come first. Things like no-contact orders, class changes, housing moves, work shift swaps, campus escorts, and help with counseling. These are available even if you don’t want a full case.
• Advisors are allowed. You can bring a friend, a family member, or a lawyer to meetings. You don’t have to go alone.
• Retaliation is banned. If someone hassles you for reporting, that’s a separate violation.
• Training is required. Students and staff get training on consent, resources, and bystander steps. The idea is to set a shared language, even if it’s not perfect.

As someone who has helped run consent workshops, I know written policy can’t replace real-life practice. Sometimes an interactive, scenario-based approach makes lessons about enthusiastic “yes” stick. If you’re curious about playful tools that model clear communication and boundaries, explore these creative “jeux de sexe” examples—they break down fun, consent-focused games that can double as conversation starters or icebreakers for peer education sessions.

For a deep dive into what the raw numbers at other campuses really look like, see what I found when I went digging for stats.

I like that these pieces match what survivors ask me about first: Will I be in trouble? Can I avoid the person? Can I talk to someone in private?

What Tripped Me Up

• Jargon overload. Terms like “preponderance of evidence” show up. It means “more likely than not,” but the site doesn’t always say it that plain.
• Timelines feel fuzzy. They aim to finish cases in a few months, but it can take longer. That’s honest, but stressful. Waiting hurts.
• So many doors. Title IX, Police, Conduct, Counseling. Good options, but it’s easy to wonder, Who do I call first?
• Off-campus gray areas. If it happens off campus or online, it can still count if it impacts school. But that line can feel confusing.

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I don’t think these are deal breakers. But I do think clear, step-by-step pages with plain language help a lot. A flowchart would be gold.

Real-Life Examples (So You Can Picture It)

• Party amnesty: A first-year student reports an assault after a dorm party where they drank. Under the amnesty rule, they aren’t punished for drinking while seeking help. They get a no-contact order placed the same week and a class switch within days.
• Shared class problem: A grad student and the person they named share a lab. Title IX arranges a different lab section and a new lab partner. The grad student keeps their research schedule and doesn’t have to move labs mid-project.
• No police, just support: A student talks to the confidential advocate and asks for counseling and a housing move, but doesn’t want an investigation yet. They still get the move and safety plan. No report is pushed.
• Online harassment: Someone’s ex keeps sending threats on social media. Title IX treats it as stalking tied to school. They set a no-contact order and loop in Conduct. If there’s a safety risk, Police step in too.
• Advisor at meetings: A student brings a trusted aunt to all meetings. That’s allowed. The aunt can sit with them, take notes, and speak during breaks, while staff handle the process.

If you’d like to see how a completely different college handled a real case from start to finish, here’s one student’s unfiltered review.

These are the kinds of things CSUEB says they can do. And honestly, they’re the things that calm people down on day one.

How Reporting Works (Short and Clear)

• You can report to Title IX, Police, both, or neither. You can start with a confidential advocate if you just want to talk.
• Title IX can give supportive steps right away—no-contact orders, class changes, and more.
• If there’s a formal complaint, there’s an investigation. Both sides can share evidence, name witnesses, and bring an advisor.
• The standard is “more likely than not.”
• Appeals are possible. Retaliation is not allowed, period.

If that sounds heavy, it is. But the early help can be simple and fast. For broader student-led guidance on navigating campus processes and advocating for yourself, check out End Campus Sexual Assault.

What I Liked Most

• That amnesty piece. It removes a big fear. A lot of students would never come forward without it.
• Clear separation of confidential and non-confidential. Counselors and advocates can keep your story private. Staff like professors must report to Title IX. It’s good to know the difference before you share.
• Supportive measures without a full case. That’s humane. And it’s practical.

What I Wish Was Better

• Plain language summaries. One page. Big font. “Do this first if you want X.” Easy.
• A “first 48 hours” guide. Where to get medical care, how to save texts, who to call after hours, what to expect when you wake up the next day.
• More about off-campus or study-abroad cases. These happen. The rules apply, but examples help people see it.

Quick Tips I’d Tell a Friend

• If you want privacy, start with a confidential advocate or counselor. Ask, “Are you confidential?” first.
• Ask for supportive measures early. Say what you need: “I want a no-contact order. I need my lab moved.”
• Write things down. Times, dates, what happened. Save texts, DMs, and screenshots.
• If alcohol or drugs were involved, remember amnesty. Say it out loud if you need to: “I’m asking for amnesty.”
• Bring someone steady to meetings. An advisor can be a friend. It helps more than you think.

For another perspective, here’s my honest review of how my own campus handled sexual assault. It breaks down what worked, what stalled, and what I’d push for next time.

My Bottom Line

CSUEB’s setup hits the big pieces right: amnesty, multiple reporting paths, fast support, and a clear promise against retaliation. The process can still feel slow and heavy, and the language could be plainer. But the tools are there, and they can be used without jumping straight into a full case.

Would I tell a student to trust the system? I’d say: start with a confidential advocate, ask for the support you need, and keep notes. If you feel unsure, that’s normal. Take it one step at a time. And please, don’t go through it alone.

Small thing, but it matters: policies change. If you’re reading this months from now, call the Title IX office or the campus advocate and ask for the latest steps. A five-minute call can save you a week of worry.