“All Men Until There Are No Men”: The Cornell Seven Allegations and the Demand for Accountability
Over the past few days, I have been hosting live sessions around a phrase that has sparked anger, defensiveness, and necessary conversation: “all men until there are no men.”
For me, that phrase expresses an urgent demand for men to take responsibility for the culture they participate in. It means that until no man commits sexual violence, excuses it, or protects someone who does, men must treat preventing that harm as a shared responsibility.
Many of us understand the frustration behind those words. Yet some men have used the controversy surrounding the phrase to redirect the conversation toward their own discomfort. They want to debate the language before confronting the behavior that gives it meaning. They demand recognition as good men while leaving unanswered the question that matters to me: What do you do when another man crosses the line?
That is why I am connecting my recent TikTok conversations to the case widely referred to as the Cornell Seven. The allegations deserve serious attention, careful investigation, and accountability. They also demand a broader conversation about male entitlement, institutional responsibility, and the everyday choices that determine what a community will tolerate.
A woman’s safety should never depend on whether the men around her feel comfortable challenging one another.
What the Cornell Seven case asks us to confront
A former Cornell University student, identified publicly as Jane Doe, has filed a civil lawsuit alleging that seven Chi Phi fraternity members sexually assaulted her in October 2024 after she was pressured into consuming drugs and alcohol. Her complaint also challenges Cornell’s handling of the incident. On September 28, 2026, the Tompkins County district attorney announced that the criminal investigation would be reopened and that evidence would be presented to a grand jury. Associated Press reporting
As of September 30, no criminal charges had been filed. The allegations remain subject to legal proceedings; the men accused have not been convicted in this case. Axios reporting
Cornell says its disciplinary process resulted in expulsions and suspensions. It also disputes the claim that writing essays was the sole consequence offered to any of those involved. Those distinctions belong in this conversation because accountability requires accuracy, including when the facts complicate a viral narrative. The Cornell Daily Sun’s reporting on Cornell’s response
But acknowledging the legal status of the case does not require emotional indifference. We can respect a fair investigation while demanding that a woman’s account receive serious attention. We can insist on evidence while asking whether institutions have earned the trust of the people they are supposed to protect.
My concern extends beyond the eventual outcome of this particular case. I want to know what our communities teach men about women, consent, friendship, and responsibility. I want to know whether men understand that loyalty to a friend has limits—and that those limits must include another person’s safety.
Accountability begins in the room
The example I keep returning to is ordinary: a locker room.
A man makes a joke about touching a woman without her permission. Another makes a degrading comment about someone’s body. Someone talks about a woman as though she is an object to use, humiliate, or trade stories about.
What happens next matters.
Do the other men laugh? Do they look away? Does someone say, “That’s just how he talks”? Does anyone challenge him?
I am asking men to speak up in that moment. Say that touching someone without permission is unacceptable. Say that the comment is degrading. Refuse to turn someone else’s humiliation into entertainment.
The response does not need to be elaborate. “That isn’t funny.” “You don’t have the right to touch her.” “Stop talking about her like that.” A clear objection can establish a boundary that silence leaves uncertain.
A sexist joke and a sexual assault are different acts with different consequences. Still, I believe the way a group responds to degrading behavior helps establish its standards. When disrespect repeatedly receives laughter, excuses, and protection, the person expressing it has little reason to question whether his peers approve.
That is the culture I want men to challenge.
Public statements are easy to make when everyone already agrees. Accountability becomes more demanding when the person behaving badly is your friend, teammate, brother, colleague, or someone whose approval you value.
Your principles need to survive that relationship.
Being a good man must involve action
I hear the phrase “not all men” often. I understand why an individual might resist being associated with behavior he finds abhorrent. But declaring personal innocence does very little for the person facing danger.
I want the conversation to move toward conduct.
When your friend ignores someone’s boundaries, do you intervene? When someone shares an intimate image without permission, do you refuse to view or circulate it? When a woman tells you that a man in your circle has made her feel unsafe, do you listen carefully, or immediately explain why he could not possibly have done it?
When a situation looks dangerous, are you willing to interrupt it, bring in help, or contact emergency services if necessary?
These are practical questions. They ask men to make choices.
Men cannot control every other man’s behavior. They can control whether they reward it, excuse it, conceal it, or challenge it. They can decide what kind of conduct costs someone their friendship and what kind of conduct they are willing to overlook.
That is where the claim to being a good man becomes meaningful to me.
I do not expect perfection. I expect a willingness to act, learn, and accept discomfort when someone else’s dignity is at stake.
Women should not have to manage men’s defensiveness
One of my deepest frustrations is how quickly discussions about violence against women become discussions about men’s feelings.
A woman expresses fear, and someone corrects her tone. She expresses anger, and someone asks her to be more reasonable. She describes a pattern, and someone insists she begin by reassuring every man who has never personally harmed her.
I reject that expectation.
Women should have room to speak about fear and anger without performing emotional care for everyone listening. A conversation about sexual violence should be able to remain focused on the people harmed and the changes needed to protect them.
A man can disagree with the wording of “all men until there are no men” and still engage honestly with the responsibility I am describing. He can ask what useful action looks like. He can examine his friendships. He can consider whether he has laughed at something he should have challenged.
What troubles me is the decision to use disagreement over a phrase as an exit from the entire conversation.
If the words make you uncomfortable, stay long enough to understand why they resonate with people who are tired of asking for safety.
Institutions must answer for their decisions
The Cornell allegations also bring institutional responsibility into focus.
Universities ask students and families to trust them. That trust should be supported by clear procedures, competent investigations, accessible support, and consequences proportionate to established misconduct.
I want institutions to explain how their systems work and demonstrate that those systems protect students. Where privacy limits what can be disclosed about an individual, institutions should still communicate what they can about their procedures, safeguards, and standards.
Accountability also means examining decisions after something goes wrong. Were reports taken seriously? Was relevant evidence preserved and reviewed? Were students offered meaningful support? Were conflicts of interest addressed? What needs to change?
These questions should be answered through evidence and independent scrutiny where appropriate.
A university’s reputation should rest on how responsibly it responds to harm. An impressive name, a prestigious history, or a carefully written statement cannot substitute for that work.
Survivors deserve more than the promise that someone has followed a process. They deserve a process worthy of their trust.
Why I am naming patriarchy
I see patriarchy as a system that gives disproportionate authority to men and treats women’s autonomy as something that can be negotiated around male interests.
Its influence can appear in familiar expectations: that women should accommodate men’s desires, that powerful men deserve repeated forgiveness, that a woman’s anger is less acceptable than the behavior that caused it, or that protecting a man’s future should take priority over addressing the harm he has caused.
That is the system I believe we must dismantle.
Sexual violence is an individual act for which the person responsible must answer. Prevention also requires us to examine the environments in which entitlement is encouraged and objections are dismissed.
We should raise boys to understand boundaries, accept rejection, express vulnerability, and challenge peers who demean others. We should teach that respect does not disappear when attraction, alcohol, status, or friendship enters the picture.
I want men to see this work as part of adulthood. Taking responsibility for how you treat people—and for what you tolerate among your peers—is a basic obligation of living in a community.
My criticism of Republican and MAGA politics
I also want to be direct about my political opinion.
I believe patriarchal ideals are deeply embedded in much of Republican and MAGA politics. In my view, too many people within those movements defend a social order that gives men authority over women’s lives while treating challenges to that authority as threats.
My criticism is directed at the priorities they support, the behavior they excuse, and the power arrangements they defend. I am especially frustrated when demands for women’s autonomy and accountability are portrayed as excessive, divisive, or hostile.
That is a political judgment I am prepared to argue. It does not establish the political affiliation of anyone accused in the Cornell case, and I have no basis for assigning those men a party affiliation.
I also believe patriarchal behavior can exist in progressive spaces. A person’s political label should never exempt them from scrutiny. Anyone who speaks publicly about equality should be expected to practice it privately, including when doing so carries a personal cost.
The standard should remain consistent: women’s dignity, safety, and freedom matter regardless of which party, institution, or social circle is involved.
Why I believe we need a matriarchal shift
I will be bold: I believe we need to dismantle patriarchy and uphold a matriarchal approach to social life.
By that, I mean giving women substantial authority to shape institutions, priorities, and decisions. I mean taking women’s knowledge and experiences seriously and building systems around care, shared responsibility, bodily autonomy, and accountability.
I do not assume every woman will lead well or that every man will lead badly. Leadership must still be judged by its decisions and consequences. But I want a deliberate shift away from structures that repeatedly place women in the position of asking permission to be heard.
A balanced life requires women to have real power.
That power should influence what our communities fund, what our schools teach, how workplaces respond to harassment, how institutions investigate misconduct, and how families distribute responsibility.
Care should carry authority. Safety should shape decisions. The people most affected by a system should have a meaningful role in changing it.
That is the matriarchal shift I am calling for.
The demand I am making
The Cornell Seven allegations have become part of a larger public reckoning. For me, they connect directly to the conversations I have been hosting because both raise the same urgent question: what are men willing to do about harm within their own communities?
I want men to challenge degrading jokes. Respect boundaries. Refuse to circulate intimate material without permission. Take reports of misconduct seriously. Intervene safely when someone appears at risk. Cooperate with legitimate investigations. Stop confusing friendship with an obligation to excuse someone.
I want institutions to earn trust through their actions. I want political movements to answer for the values they promote. I want women to have the authority to shape the systems that affect their lives.
And I want these commitments to continue after the headlines change.
When I say “all men until there are no men,” I am demanding sustained responsibility until no man uses another person’s body as an entitlement, until no group protects that conduct, and until no institution treats it as an inconvenience to manage.
Men who share that goal have work they can begin today—in the locker room, in the group chat, at the party, at work, and among their friends.
Speak up when it costs something. Set a boundary when silence would be easier. Let your loyalty to another person include the courage to challenge him.
Women deserve to live with freedom and dignity. Our communities should be organized around making that possible.