As allegations of sexual violence and institutional failures at Cornell University draw renewed scrutiny, students at NYU Shanghai face questions of their own regarding coming forward, reporting, confidentiality, and the responsibilities they hold themselves.

Deciding to report sexual misconduct at NYU Shanghai can be extremely difficult. Students debating approaching their university weigh options that may involve recounting an experience multiple times. More than that though, it often means navigating unfamiliar procedures, weighing questions of confidentiality, and understanding how much control they may have to relinquish over what occurs next.

With a student body in Shanghai of over seventy nationalities, having so much of an experience be dictated by a U.S. framework—on a college campus in China—does not offer a simple path forward. Title IX is a U.S. federal civil rights law that, at its core, prohibits sex-based discrimination in educational programs receiving U.S. federal funding. In addition to rules and regulations falling under Title IX, those in the NYU community are subject to university policies. In recent years with the potential expansion, then retraction, of Title IX protected classes, NYU’s policies have continued to include larger groups in anti-discrimination policies.

For Shanghai, there is another layer, though arguably one that falls below the other two, serving more as a “catch-all” or last resort. Local Chinese law enforcement can also be involved in processing allegations of sexual misconduct. However, given that the People’s Republic of China does not have a legal definition for terms such as stalking, dating violence or consent, this likely cannot serve as an alternative or as support for the processing of a sexual misconduct case.

A U.S.-based law, additional university policies, and the local law system give students that have gone through traumatic experiences a lot of work to do just to seek out the resources that are best for them. Students often turn to other peers for support and consolation. These peers may be Resident Assistants, club leaders, or in other positions that designate them as mandatory reporters. If a mandatory reporter hears of a potential Title IX violation, they are required to report it, as they can offer privacy, meaning that only those that need to know the details will be informed. But they cannot guarantee confidentiality, which ultimately is what results in mandatory reporters reporting alleged actions or experiences that fall under Title IX.

As a senior at NYU Shanghai, a student that loves this university, a mandatory reporter, and chair of the campus’s Sexual Respect Committee, I want to encourage deeper reflection on the tendency of educational institutions to delegate responsibility for addressing issues such as sexual misconduct to individuals and committees on the ground, even when the institution’s structures, polities, and power dynamics may play a crucial role in recurring problems.

This is not to say that student leaders and committees are ineffective. They can be, and have been, important mechanisms for bringing students and faculty together to address topics such as sexual respect on our campus. Student leaders regularly help peers navigate difficult situations, while committees work to create opportunities for identifying concerns and advocating for change. However, their value and/or effectiveness cannot obscure a fundamental question: how much responsibility can institutions reasonably place on these individuals and systems without these groups having enough power or resources to address institutional problems?

The question is not whether mandatory reporters should report misconduct or whether committees should participate in addressing related issues. It is whether these mechanisms are accompanied by meaningful institutional accountability. There needs to be clarity regarding procedures, proactive and accessible support, clear and transparent communication, and a willingness to examine many parts of the structures shaping our community’s experiences.

Cornell’s controversy provides an opportunity to reflect. At NYU Shanghai, as with any institution, questions of this genre do not have closed answers. Relevant questions cannot be adequately answered by the establishment of a channel or appointing students and faculty to address sexual respect. These questions require that we examine how systems operate in practice, what authority we have in these endeavors, and how the university responds when existing procedures fail to meet the community’s needs.

Taking institutional accountability seriously, and talking about it is not incompatible with caring about an institution—rather, it is part of asking it to live up to the responsibilities it has to the communities it curates: work within established channels, also making these processes accessible, easy to understand, and trusted.

For community members deciding whether to come forward, the stakes extend beyond the logistics of a report being submitted or a committee convening. It includes whether they understand their options, can access the appropriate support, and ultimately whether they can trust that the institution will take responsibility for what follows.

The task of addressing topics such as sexual misconduct does not rest on one person. Not the one who experienced it, the peer whom the details were disclosed to, or the committees tasked with responding to it. While they all have an important role to play, the responsibility for building and maintaining an effective and trusted system should lie in the hands of the institution itself.