Editor’s Note: The anonymous author of the following letter was the subject of a May 2025 article in The Daily titled “Stanford’s Title IX office took two years to suspend rapist.”

NYU’s Ethics and Journalism Initiative recognized the article with First Prize in the student category of the 2026 Collier Awards earlier this month. The anonymous author shared this letter with The Daily on April 23.

The Daily should have directly contacted her before publicly announcing the award, and ideally upon learning of the recognition.

We regret the oversight that occurred in this case, and are writing a policy to ensure that sources whose personal experience is the substance of a story are informed of award recognition.

I was in the middle of class when I got a text from a friend: “Did you see this?” It was a series of posts from The Stanford Daily about one of their reporters winning an award for an article about my sexual assault. 

That was the first I had heard of it. 

No one from the Daily reached out to tell me the story had been submitted for an award, nor that it had won. I found out through an Instagram post. 

The article is entirely about my sexual assault and subsequent experience with Stanford’s Title IX process. About how, after a traumatizing two year ordeal, the University ultimately found the student responsible, yet still didn’t expel him. He has been charged with three felony counts of rape by the Santa Clara County District Attorney’s office in relation to the same incident. 

There were no other survivors interviewed or profiled. This article is about my struggle, my trauma, my story. My story is the reason the article exists. 

And yet, no one thought to tell me it was being submitted for an award, let alone that someone, my peer, would be recognized for writing about it. 

The award summary posted on a Stanford Daily Instagram photo reads: “For sensitively balancing the risk of harm to a survivor of sexual assault against the public interest in accountability for Stanford University’s Title IX process.” 

I was the one who took the risk to come forward. I was the one who shared deeply personal, painful details. I was the one weighing the consequences: worrying about potential effects on the criminal case, wondering if I could get in trouble for sharing Title IX documents, terrified that people would figure out my identity. 

I spoke to The Daily despite these risks because I believed things needed to change. Because I didn’t want other survivors to go through what I did. Because I balanced the risk of harm to myself against the public interest in accountability for Stanford University’s Title IX process. 

Since the article was published, I have continued to fight with Stanford. I have met with administrators, pushed for policy changes and asked the same questions over and over: How did this happen? How can someone the University themselves found responsible for raping another student, someone charged with felony rape, be allowed to return to campus and graduate? Shouldn’t such a person be banned from campus — or at the very least, have their degree held —  while criminal proceedings are ongoing? What would it take for Stanford to actually expel someone? (Stanford has failed to give me a clear answer to any of these questions.)

I asked to remain anonymous and have fought in silence this entire time, and I will continue to do so. Because this was never about me. 

But there is still a person behind this story. 

For survivors, control over our story — who tells it, when it’s told and knowing where it goes — matters deeply. Finding out about this through an Instagram post was, quite frankly, a slap in the face. 

Last week, I was in a windowless courtroom, crying on the witness stand as I told my story. Meanwhile, unbeknownst to me, my peer was across the country on a stage being celebrated for it. 

I do not believe the reporter, or The Daily, had ill intent. But actions carry meaning, even if we don’t intend them to. 

Being recognized for work that exists because of someone else’s trauma, and not even informing them, disregards the person at the center of it, and is, at the very least, lacking in basic respect.

To be clear, I’m not saying any formal ethical code was violated. I’m saying this doesn’t feel right. 

How did I not deserve to know before the 12k+ followers of The Daily’s Instagram page? Was it so hard to give me a heads up? At the very least before posting on social media about it? 

I’m not a journalist. But I am a survivor. And above all, I am a person. 

The real risk of speaking up and balancing harm with public interest belongs to survivors who put themselves and their well-being on the line everyday. Reliving their trauma in interviews,  hearings, courtrooms and in meetings with institutions that have already failed them. 

To my fellow survivors, there is no award for going through what we went through. No medal we get for fighting. We cannot put this experience on a resume or talk about it in a job interview, despite it being one of the greatest challenges and tests of resilience a person can face. 

I see you. I’m proud of you.

No matter how your story is taken, reshaped, or used — by the court, a Title IX office, a reporter or even a peer — know that at the end of the day, the greatest courage comes from you.