Let us assume that at some loonietoons university, the claims of the female are always taken as fact, and the male expelled, then the university would be in violation of title IX.
Whereupon, redress could be sought through the courts.
Similar to your exemplary fantasy, but much more realistic, are the real cases like one out of North Carolina when the university told a rape victim that life is kind of like a football game and the important thing is that she figure out what she did wrong.
Or we might think of the University of Washington as another example. When I was young, the statement that one couldn't get arrested in a town spoke of prejudice against people, such as for skin color, and postulated an abtract argument about that person being seen to not exist. Not quite invisible man, but close enough. At UW, when Barbara Hedges was Athletic Director, the police were apparently afraid to arrest the football players, to such an end that whether drunk driving, threatening a police officer, or rape, the starting tight end very nearly couldn't get arrested, and the time he did, the police officers received a good chewing out for screwing with the Dawgs.
And while athletics are one of the most well-known applications of Title IX, and thus probably a more desperate legal inroad, using one's office as A.D. to create disparate impact surrounding an athletic program can create an appearance of a problem. The Clery Act, a 1990 law sponsored by Sen. Bill Bradley (D-NJ) and signed by President George H.W. Bush (R), is the more direct relevance. Formally titled, "The Right to Know and Campus Security Act", the Clery Act overlaps with Title IX by requiring colleges and universities participating in federal financial aid programs to keep and publish certain security-related information (20 USC 28 (IV.F) § 1092).
At the University of Oregon, when I was there, for instance, campus security wrote a parking ticket that was complete excrement; the school's policy was to refer such claims to a retired judge retained by university administration. He pulled a police-officer line about it doesn't matter if the car wasn't there thirty minutes because it is unfair and illegal to doubt the officers' words; an added dose of bureaucratic speech explained that the ticket could not be inaccurate for saying the meter that wasn't there had expired because the paint that wasn't on the curb counts as a parking meter. In other words, "law enforcement" on college campuses is often a racket.
It can become a cynical bit about money, because that's all anyone has left to fight about. To wit, there are plenty of other mechanisms, but the idea of striking that much agreement in that many state legislatures and overcoming that many contemporaneous and subsequent lawsuits is itself problematic, so trying to legislate these processes out of university hands is the sort of not quite doomed project we might be able to accomplish a hundred years and a billion victims later. In some areas, local police and prosecutors find themselves standing off federal authorities about sex crime in general because police and prosecutors just can't stop making excuses for rape. So once the People get all fifty states to agree legislatively and overcome the uncertain lawsuits—we might recall
Obergefell as an example of how far even federal judges will go to be political when the panel voted 2-1 to effectively but tacitly recriminalize homosexuality in order to unmarry a dead man, so, no, not even the blatantly obvious has any obvious value among jurists—we still need to convince police officers and prosecutors to stop looking at a woman reporting a rape as some manner of criminal suspect.
And that's just the general. In particular, Title IX through financial aid is actually a pretty solid mechanism insofar as the general basis is a constitutional requirement: Process is not automatically
due process; law and process do not automatically equal
justice; these are known realities. So what you do, then, is use the financial aid purse strings. For the university, in dramatic caricature:
If, to simplify grotesquely, we can rape and harass the women out of our universities,
then, well, at least we got paid, first, with the financial aid tuition disbursements. Or, from the government's perspective, we give out money to be given to yet someone else in exchange for particular products or services; we have an obligation to ensure that the intended beneficiary of the initial benefit given at least has proper opportunity to access the intended benefit, and, furthermore, to ensure that the product or service that money is exchanged for is, in fact, reasonably delivered. Violating the civil rights of rape victims is still a crime regardless of sex, and Title IX intends to address sex and gender discrimination and the effects thereof in education. The underlying obligation under Title IX is that, at the national level, according to simply being "in the United States", no person shall be excluded from or denied benefits on the basis of sex, nor subject to discrimination on such basis, within the range of educational programs or activities receiving federal contributions.
Except for the fact that this has to do with the sexual abuse of women, it would generally be pretty straightforward. That is to say,
Which raises a point we might as well attend before it comes up: Title IX will cover men, too. I mention that because it eventually arises that someone should ask what about the men. And the answer is very much similar to the lament about breast and prostate cancer, which is that many days it would probably go over better if, "What about the men?" arose in its own context instead of as a response to women, because then it sounds like, for instance, the men are saying the Komen Foundation should have been focusing on prostate cancer, and at some point someone needs to remind such arguments that it's also possible to make one's own noise. For our purposes, though, the important point considers how we treat women in the context of the fact of their being women. It is not uncommon, for instance, that law enforcement distorts, exaggerates, and even invents her behavior in order to excuse a man from behavior that does in fact equal a sex crime. And, yes, that misogyny even harms men.
†
In these aspects we focus on women because that's who the vast majority of the problem affects most directly; hence Title IX, and also the tendency in discourse to focus, when discussing sex crime, on male victimization of females. Nonetheless, societal history reminds quite clearly that men who report rapes face strucutural sex discrimination, too; law enforcement has long been confused by domestic violence 'twixt same-sex partners, and society in general has very strange notions about female sexual victimization of males. In the context of Title IX, though, much like the strange bits about Komen and prostate cancer that flutter through our lives now and again like falling autumn leaves—we tend to hear about it, if at all, when male athletes start wearing pink in October, though the complaint tends to
imply, largely for lack of vigilance, we think, though they're never clear, that business considerations such as the role of women in buying tickets and licensed paraphernalia are utterly irrelevant to a pro sports league's outlook—part of the problem described by certain dearths of action is that the stimulus has not enough magnitude to invoke a market response. Like the prostate cancer question. I know there's a ribbon; I don't know what color it is. I really should care, since I'm a candidate for prostate cancer. And in recent years when at least once a year I hear, "What about the men?" in response to male pro athletes wearing pink, I can say that I hear far more from those who gripe that Komen isn't doing enough for men than I do from the actual leading prostate cancer campaign. (I'm intentionally not looking it up right now because, really, I don't know what the campaign is called, nor even its ribbon color; that's how little I hear about it.)
In questions of sexual harassment and abuse, men find themselves in a really awful cycle; the point that we have, over the course of history, done this to ourselves is only relevant if our address of the cycle depends on comparison to or juxtaposition with women. As its own question, the binary foci of this deadly orbit really are sorts of dark stars that radiate only sickness unto humanity. We do not report because we are ashamed. Some aspect of this perceived shame seems inherent insofar as it so common to survivor accounts that seems to arise inevitably; using that word again, it
seems to be a very common aspect of the brain chemistry responding to perceptions of sexual violation, and in truth it is very difficult to discern the relationship between the evolutionary purpose for those chemicals in particular forms of stress response and our apparent translation of the result as shame. But the truly dangerous part of the shame disrupting our reporting of sex crimes against us is the portion our masculine-dominated society delivers unto us.
To that point: If the cops laugh off or dismiss his rape report, or make a point of demeaning him as a queer or femmeboy or liar, because he got hard and ejaculated, then we are unquestionably describing sex-based discrimination against a crime victim; if that happens within one of these university structures, Title IX is unquestionably in effect.
Still, though, this is nearly its own question; the Devos review of Title IX intends reassertion of conservative political values, which in turn includes male supremacism, and what is, functionally speaking, rape empowerment.
