On a cold December night in 2024, a young woman from Memphis lay awake in her dorm room at Austin Peay State University, her sense of safety shattered. In a raw and courageous Facebook post, NaCya, a student at the Clarksville, Tennessee, institution, shared a harrowing account of being sexually assaulted on December 10. She described a man who ignored her pleas of “no,” restrained her with handcuffs, and forced himself upon her. The trauma didn’t end there. NaCya alleged that the perpetrator continued to contact her through calls and texts, even approaching her again on campus. Her desperate outreach to the university’s police, she claimed, yielded no meaningful response, leaving her assailant free to roam the same grounds where she sought an education.
NaCya’s post, marked by vulnerability and a plea for justice, quickly spread across social media, resonating with a community all too familiar with such stories. Among those moved was Jazmine Ferby, another young woman who felt compelled to share her own experience. In a comment accompanying NaCya’s post, Ferby wrote that she believed NaCya unequivocally, revealing that she, too, had been victimized by the same individual years earlier. Ferby’s admission was not widely known—she had confided in only a few people at the time—but the weight of NaCya’s story pushed her to speak out. “I was not the first, and she won’t be the last,” Ferby wrote, her words a chilling acknowledgment of a pattern that had gone unaddressed.
The allegations have sparked outrage among students and alumni, raising urgent questions about campus safety and the university’s handling of sexual assault reports. Austin Peay State University, a public institution with a diverse student body of over 10,000, has long prided itself on fostering a close-knit community. Yet, NaCya’s and Ferby’s accounts suggest a troubling gap in how the institution responds to survivors. NaCya’s claim that campus police failed to act promptly echoes broader concerns about the effectiveness of university systems in addressing sexual violence. While the university has not issued a public statement specifically addressing these allegations, its police department is tasked with maintaining a safe environment, a mission that now faces intense scrutiny.
The experiences shared by NaCya and Ferby are not isolated. Reports of sexual misconduct on college campuses nationwide have fueled a growing movement to hold institutions accountable. At Austin Peay, the conversation is particularly charged given the university’s commitment to serving a significant population of military-affiliated students, who often rely on structured systems of support. The courage of these women to speak out has galvanized others, with social media amplifying their voices and prompting calls for transparency and reform. Students have begun organizing discussions, both online and on campus, to demand clearer policies and swifter action from administrators.
As the story unfolds, it underscores a painful reality: for many survivors, coming forward is only the beginning of a long fight for justice. NaCya’s decision to share her ordeal publicly, despite the personal toll, has not only given voice to her pain but also inspired others, like Ferby, to break their silence. Their stories, raw and unfiltered, challenge the university to confront uncomfortable truths and act decisively. For now, the Austin Peay community waits—some with hope, others with frustration—for answers that honor the bravery of those who have spoken out.
The university’s response in the coming days will likely shape its relationship with students and the broader Clarksville community. Beyond campus, NaCya’s and Ferby’s accounts serve as a stark reminder of the work still needed to ensure that no student endures such betrayal in a place meant to nurture their future. Their voices, amplified by a digital age, refuse to be ignored, demanding change not just for themselves but for every student who walks the halls of Austin Peay.