The national conversation around the Epstein files has revealed, once again, how easily survivors are sidelined when powerful men are involved. Here’s what it looks like from the inside.
President Trump was recently asked about the newly released Epstein files and how survivors feel justice has been denied. His response? He called the reporter “the worst” and complained that she never smiles.
His response felt like a slap in the face to me and every survivor who has ever summoned the courage to speak and been made to feel like their story doesn’t matter.
The national conversation about the Epstein files and response by powerful men has been incredibly disappointing and triggering for all of us who have survived childhood sexual abuse.
Personally, I vacillate between feeling dismissed, triggered by old memories, and emotionally exhausted by the lack of accountability. I remember feeling the same way when watching Anita Hill’s testimony against Clarence Thomas in 1991 and Christine Blasey Ford against Brett Kavanaugh 27 years later. Conclusion: Ultimately them telling their stories didn’t change anything.
Here is what the media and those in power are currently telling survivors like me, whether they realize it or not:
Abusers don’t face consequences.
Watching powerful people evade real punishment sends the message to all survivors that even with evidence, even with witnesses—nothing happens. We are not to be believed.
Your pain isn’t the point.
The media coverage has mostly centered on Epstein’s wealth, connections, and “mystique,” while survivors have become side notes. Survivors are reminded, just like when we were being abused; our bodies matter—not our pain or needs, and our trauma is not important.
Your trauma is entertainment.
When trafficking and sexual abuse is treated like political drama or celebrity news, it minimizes the reality of what happened to us. Survivors are reminded of the terror, coercion, and lifelong impact and it’s never entertainment to those of us who lived it. Mostly, I just feel so sad.
Telling won’t help
Sealed records, redacted names of perpetrators, and stalled investigations reinforce the painful belief that telling the truth won’t protect us and it won’t change anything. This can undo years of healing work.
You’re on your own
Lastly, when courts, media, politicians, and our government fail again and again, survivors are reminded that no one intervened then, and no one is truly intervening now. It validates a core trauma belief: “I was on my own. I’m still on my own.”
How does this affect us in real life?
We lose sleep. We snap at people we love. We feel our bodies tense up in grocery stores, in traffic, in bed at night. Old coping mechanisms creep back in and the work we’ve done to heal feels fragile again. I assume others like me are constantly on the verge of tears.
But we go to work. We parent. We write. We advocate. We show up for others.
But it shouldn’t have to be this hard. I’ve spent years doing the work—therapy, writing, telling my story publicly. I shouldn’t be knocked back to my childhood by a flippant comment from a powerful man on TV.
All we need is for leaders and the media to stop protecting powerful men. Every joke, every dismissal, every sealed file tells us our pain is still negotiable. And after everything we’ve survived, that’s something we should no longer have to carry.
We deserve better.
