No one is expected to be squeaky-clean cradle to grave.

As a psychologist at a university counseling center, I was privy to many regrets and misbehaviors, lies, secrets, and even some illegal acts. On a handful of occasions, young men confessed to me that they’d had sex with a woman who hadn’t consented—what they realized the next day or the next month or the following year with a great deal of shame, was rape. They wanted to make it right by understanding how they could be capable of such behavior. One or two apologized to their victims. They were sorry. How could they make it right? That apology was life-changing for both of them. I’m certain that these men learned from their mistakes.

But they were, unfortunately, the rare exception.

Conservatively, somewhere between five and fifteen percent of college men admit to having had nonconsensual intercourse, the legal definition of rape.

Some men sober up and realize what they’ve done. Or the victim with enormous courage, calls him or texts him or otherwise confronts him with the facts of her experience. Some of these men are able to acknowledge that yes, they plowed ahead in the face of her unmistakable objections.

But self-reflection and apologies are strikingly rare. Approximately two-thirds of all college rapes are committed by repeat offenders. They admit to committing anywhere from 3.4 to 5.2 rapes per year.

To be clear, the men who have nonconsensual sex multiple times do so with foresight and planning. These are not the men who wake up the next morning with regret or insight or shame.

The stories that are coming out about Georgetown Prep are consistent with what we know about men who commit serial rapes. They choose a target—generally not the most popular girl at the party, ply her with alcohol or drugs, and then get her alone. They are using alcohol as a weapon, knowing full well that the victim will be blamed for her drinking. And perhaps ironically, that they will be excused—because they were drunk.

Still we are stunned by these statistics, enough so that we have trouble believing that otherwise smart, talented young men—our friends and neighbors, the children of our accountants and coaches and teachers—could be capable of such despicable behavior. Our disbelief, our denial lead us to give them a pass on male “mischief.” But it’s not mischief by any plausible definition of the word. It’s rape.

We pride ourselves on how far we’ve come. That we believe Dr. Ford and praise her for the courage to come forward. Her testimony from both sides of the aisle was deemed heartbreaking, credible, compelling. But there’s a disconnect between believing her and taking action. It’s a “he said/she said” we say, which is really shorthand for not taking the time to adequately investigate the allegations.

Perhaps that is changing, too.

I invite you to read related posts The Future of #MeToo and Lies Matter. Ignorance Does Too. And my novel, Thin Places.

Gertrude keeps hounding me to write another blog post. “I’m busy,” I tell her, obsessed with writing my next novel. It’s about the power of charismatic figures to draw us in—and then poison our environs with rancor and distrust. It’s about the consequences of allowing bullies to prevail.

I hadn’t planned on mirroring current events. But serendipitously, here I am: 86,000 words into the second draft.

One of the main characters in my novel, Billie Ochoa, teaches a course on Cold War politics. Consequently, I’ve been reading about Stalin’s tyrannical regime, red-baiter Joseph McCarthy, the Cuban Missile Crisis, trying to understand how bullies capture our imaginations so effectively that we freely put ourselves—and our democracy—at great risk.

I’m still working on a title for the book. Perhaps Tens Minutes to Disaster. Or The Deceit of the Deal. Or simply Splat!

Even Gertrude–who sees dust bunnies as a threat to our existence–thinks I’m paranoid, exaggerating, trading on conspiracy theories. “Surely we’ve learned important, unforgettable lessons from the 1950’s,” she says. Loyalty oaths. Blacklisting teachers and actors. Jailing labor organizers. Abrogating free speech in the name of national security. Manipulating the media. Did you know the CIA hired journalists and major news outlets to spy for the US government? The New York Times. CBS News. Time and Life Magazine. The Christian Science Monitor. All participated in a CIA-funded effort called Operation Mockingbird.

Gertrude chimes in, “That wouldn’t happen now. Besides, wasn’t that a really long time ago?”

I remind her that President-elect Trump has appointed at least three retired generals to his Cabinet. According to the Atlantic Monthly, the last time that happened was President Ulysses S. Grant. Right after the Civil War.

I wonder aloud how many steps we are away from a coup.

If it’s paranoia, I’m not alone. An op-ed piece in the New York Times by Steven Levitsky and Daniel Ziblatt, Is Donald Trump a Threat to Democracy? cites three indicators that put democracy at risk including, “a failure to reject violence unambiguously, a readiness to curtail rivals’ civil liberties, and the denial of the legitimacy of elected governments.” I would add: the insistence that facts don’t matter.

All of which are tactics used by our current President-elect.

But a coup? That wouldn’t happen, at least not in America. But imagine, Levitsky and Ziblatt opine, if there were another large-scale terrorist attack on the United States. Or rioting in the streets.

Raise your hands if you remember Kent State.

Here’s where I end with a message of hope. In a recent opinion piece in The Guardian, Barbara Kingsolver, encourages us to use our skills and talents—whatever they may be—to speak up. “Every soul willing to do that is part of our team … to show the new president what we stand for, and what we won’t.”

Teachers. Scientists. Journalists. Artists. Therapists. Historians. Political Scientists. Electricians. Physicians. Carpenters. Nannies.

I’m using mine as a writer. Because words matter. And actions do too.