Abstract
My old graduate student mentor will get his Ph.D. on Wednesday. When I saw the announcement, I was frozen. It wasn’t until I said the words out loud, over the phone to a friend on my way home, that the tears came. I dodged strange looks shooting at me like bullets from passersby on the busy city street. The tears came again while I was in the lab, mumbling to my boss about military homecoming videos as the reason for the tears on my cheeks. And then the tears came again when I was at home, lying on the carpet, staring at the ceiling as a thunderstorm roared outside. And then they came again when I was 10 miles into a 16-mile run; I had to stop because I couldn’t breathe. My harasser will get his Ph.D. on Wednesday. I did everything right. I reported, I spoke up, and I
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