The cоllege tоwn оf Missoulа, Mont., sаw аt least 80 reported rapes over three years, earning it the name America’s Rape Capital. But the nickname has it wrong. Missoula isn’t special; it is fairly average. The truth is, for young women, America’s campuses are dangerous places. BY ELIZA GRAY/MISSOULA Nestled at the base of a mountain in the northern Rockies, the University of Montana in Missoula is one of the nation’s most picturesque campuses and home to nearly 15,000 students. Since its founding in 1893, the school has produced 28 Rhodes scholars. Notable alumni include former Senator Mike Mansfield and All in the Family star Carroll O’Connor. The university’s football team, the Grizzlies, has turned out a slew of NFL stars. It is, in short, the kind of place that makes its alumni cheer and serves as a symbol of pride throughout the state. But something changed for Missoula on May 1, 2012, when Thomas Perez came to town. Perez, then the U.S. Assistant Attorney General for Civil Rights, stood before a press conference to announce a federal investigation into the university, city police and county attorney. “In order to learn, all students must feel safe and must feel supported,” Perez told the gathering. There was a problem in Missoula: “In the past three years, there have been at least 80 reported rapes.” Practically overnight, Missoula went from being the home of one of the nation’s most respected public universities to a place where young women were victimized in horrible, violent attacks—or, as news coverage began describing it, “America’s rape capital.” The nickname, however, has it wrong. Calling Missoula the rape capital is as misleading as it is ugly. The University of Montana isn’t a bizarre sexual-assault outlier in higher education. Instead, it is fairly average. The truth is, for young women, particularly those who are 18 or 19 years old, just beginning their college experience, America’s campuses are hazardous places. Recent research shows that 1 in 5 women is the victim of an attempted or completed sexual assault during college. “If you knew your son had a 20% chance of being held up at gunpoint, you’d think twice before dropping your kid off,” says Vice President Joe Biden, who has made awareness about campus sexual assault a signature issue at the White House. “Well, my God, you drop a daughter off, it’s 1 in 5 she could be raped or physically abused? It is just outrageous.” The numbers on campus rape and sexual assault are so disturbing that it can be tempting to look for a flaw, to assume they are inflated by some overly broad definition—misunderstandings or morning-after regrets. They aren’t. It’s true that the language can be confusing. The FBI now defines rape as “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.” That reflects a revision by the Obama Administration in 2012. Earlier language referred to sex inflicted “forcibly and against her will.” The newer “without the consent” language is meant to include victims who are incapacitated by alcohol or cannot otherwise give consent. The broader term sexual assault used in the 1-in-5 statistic includes rape along with other forms of unwanted sexual contact, such as forced fondling or kissing—but more than half the assaults reported meet the strict definition of rape. Nearly threequarters of those victims were incapacitated, underscoring the role of alcohol in campus assaults. The 1-in-5 number shouldn’t be taken to mean that young American men are a horde of violent rapists. The best research suggests that a large proportion of the worst offenses are committed by a relatively small group of students—sexual predators who find college an alarmingly auspicious environment both for targeting women and escaping punishment. No campus is immune from concerns about sexual misconduct—a point driven home May 1 when the Obama Administration released a list of 55 colleges under federal scrutiny over how they handle sexual-assault complaints. The roster includes big public institutions like Ohio State along with Ivies Harvard and Princeton. So rather than focus on Missoula as an outrageous oddity, it is more productive to see it as a starting point for fixing a shameful situation. Over the past two years, federal investigators have collaborated—and sometimes clashed—with school and local officials. Together, they have identified specific measures that students, colleges and local cops can take to head off assaults and make sure that when attacks do take place, the victims are properly treated. Some are as obvious as requiring school employees to report any crimes; others are as simple as arming young women—and young men—with clever tricks to derail the predators. If Missoula has been tarnished, unfairly or not, with the “rape capital” nickname, it may well be redeemed by its legacy as a test lab for helping answer the question, What will it take to make women safe at college? Missoula’s journey into the uncomfortable spotlight began late in 2011, in the middle of finals, when the university announced the appointment of an outside investigator to look into whether two female students had been drugged and raped by members of the football team. Then another young woman told the local newspaper, the Missoulian, that several football players had raped her the year before. (No one was charged, though police said they informed the football coach.) A few weeks later, a running back for the Grizzlies was arrested for raping a woman who, according to the affidavit of probable cause, said she woke up “to find her pants and underwear pulled down” and the assailant having intercourse with her. He later pleaded guilty and is serving a 10-year sentence. The cases kept coming. In February an exchange student from Saudi Arabia fled the country before police could question him about two alleged sexual assaults on the same night; the dean of students had told him the school launched an investigation. Then in March, the Grizzlies’ quarterback Jordan Johnson was suspended from the team after an accusation of rape; he was acquitted of criminal charges at trial. Yet another rape victim told the Missoulian she believed her report to the health center would result in an investigation. But the opposite is true, since health-center records are kept confidential. The outside investigation launched by university president Royce Engstrom concluded that there had been nine cases of sexual assault at Missoula from September 2010 to December 2011. Missoula’s pattern is typical. One of the most consistent truths is how few victims, especially college students, report these attacks. A recent study showed that only 12% of rapes of college women were reported to law enforcement. Another study showed that roughly a third of college sexual-assault victims said they reported their assault to a counselor affiliated with the university. High-profile incidents often increase awareness and motivate victims to come forward. So when college officials try to shine a light on the problem—as with Engstrom’s decision to engage an outside investigator—the result can be a wave of allegations that makes a campus suddenly seem less safe. That’s a nasty surprise for students, parents—and admissions offices.