What the Epstein Files Are Teaching Us About Why Women Don't Report Sexual Abuse

WRITTEN BY AMBER ROBINSON

Every time a public figure is accused of sexual abuse, the same question surfaces:

"Why didn't they say something sooner?"

With the release of the Epstein files, that question is all over social media, news commentary, and private conversations. People often ask it as if they're genuinely curious, but the question itself reveals something much deeper and more uncomfortable about our society.

Because the truth is: women do speak up. They just aren't believed.

The Biggest Stage, Same Old Story

The Epstein files aren't shocking because abuse happened. Sadly, that part is familiar. The revealing part is how predictable the response has been.

Powerful, rich, White men paired chorus of doubt, minimization, rationalization, and silence.

This is playing out on a global stage right now, but it's not new. It's a pattern that has existed for as long as power has been protected over people—especially women, girls, and marginalized voices.

When the accused are wealthy, well-liked, or respected, belief becomes conditional. Suddenly survivors are expected to produce impossible levels of proof: perfect memory, flawless behavior, immediate disclosure. These are standards that trauma itself makes nearly impossible to meet.

Patriarchy Teaches Us Who Is "Credible"

In a patriarchal society, credibility is not evenly distributed. Powerful men are often granted the benefit of the doubt automatically, but women have to earn it.

We are asked:

What were you wearing?
Why were you there?
Why didn't you leave?
Why did you go back?
Why are you speaking up now?

And underlying all of it is the unspoken question: Are you sure it was really that bad?

When society consistently responds this way, women learn something early: telling the truth may cost you more than staying silent.

Why Women Don't Report (And Often Can't)

As a trauma therapist, I've sat with countless survivors of sexual trauma. One theme comes up over and over again:

It's not just the abuse that traumatized them. It's what happened after they tried to tell someone.

I was quoted in an article about why family members take sides in cases of sexual abuse. One point I shared: when people know the accused—when they love them, rely on them, or have built their identity around them—denial becomes a psychological defense.

Believing the survivor would mean:

• Accepting that someone they trust caused harm

• Disrupting the family system

• Acknowledging they missed signs

• Facing their own guilt or helplessness

So instead, many people unconsciously choose denial. And for survivors, that denial can be just as traumatizing as the abuse itself. But the truth is that sexual abusers are not shadowy figures in dark alleyways—they are hidden in our friends, brothers, husbands and bosses.

"I Finally Told Someone… and They Didn't Believe Me"

Some of my most heartbreaking moments as a therapist happen when clients describe the moment they finally worked up the courage to tell someone what happened to them.

They rehearsed the words. They waited for the "right" time. They made themselves vulnerable in ways that felt terrifying.

And then they were met with:

"Are you sure?"
”Don’t say that!”
"That doesn't sound like him."
"I think you're misremembering."
"Why didn't you say something sooner?"

Being dismissed, doubted, or minimized in that moment often becomes its own trauma. It reinforces shame. It teaches the nervous system that disclosure equals danger. And it can shut someone down for decades.

So when we ask why women don't report, we're missing the more accurate question:

Why does our society make it so unsafe to tell the truth?

The Epstein Files Aren't an Exception—They're a Mirror

What we're witnessing right now is not a rare failure of justice. It's a mirror reflecting:

• How power protects itself

• How women's pain is negotiable

• How credibility is influenced by wealth and status

• How quickly empathy disappears when belief feels inconvenient

This is the same dynamic that plays out in families, workplaces, religious institutions, and communities every day. The scale may be larger, but the message is the same.

What Survivors Actually Need

Survivors don't come forward because they want attention. They come forward because carrying the truth alone becomes unbearable.

What they need is not interrogation. Not perfection. Not proof beyond what trauma allows. They need belief.

They need responses like:

"I'm so sorry that happened to you."
"Thank you for telling me."
"I believe you."
"What do you need right now?"

Belief is not a legal verdict. It's a human response. And it matters more than we often realize.

Believing Women the First Time

If there's one message I hope we take from this moment, it's this:

We don't need more disclosures—we need better responses.

Believing women the first time is not radical. It's corrective. It's healing. And it's necessary if we want fewer people carrying this pain in silence.

The Epstein files will eventually fade from the news cycle. But the underlying lesson shouldn't.

Because until we become a society that takes women's voices seriously—especially when it's uncomfortable—this cycle will continue. Quietly. Privately. Devastatingly.

And survivors will keep asking themselves the same question they've been asking for generations:

"What's the point of telling, if no one is going to believe me anyway?"