Why the Question “Why Didn’t They Speak Out Sooner?” Is a Tool of Abuse
- john raymond
- Jul 20
- 3 min read
There is a grotesque and ignorant question that resurfaces again and again—even on platforms like Bluesky—anytime the subject of Donald Trump’s alleged sexual crimes or the broader horrors of the Epstein network are raised: “Why didn’t they speak out sooner?”
This question isn’t just offensive. It’s a tool. A weapon. A rhetorical shield for abusers and their apologists. And it is almost always asked from a deliberately incorrect frame. These weren’t simply women being preyed upon by the rich and powerful. These were children—minors—often groomed, manipulated, coerced, drugged, and trafficked by a web of elites operating in plain sight. Children who were denied agency, safety, and voice. To ask why they didn’t “come forward” is to fundamentally misunderstand, or willfully ignore, what power is and how it works.
But let us play the bad-faith question out anyway. Let us grant, for argument’s sake, that it was only adult women being abused by men like Trump, Epstein, and their circles. Even then, the question collapses under the weight of reality. It takes extraordinary courage to speak out. It requires reliving trauma in public, under scrutiny, before hostile lawyers and media networks determined to discredit you. It demands standing up against not just a man, but an apparatus—of money, influence, politics, and media—all designed to protect him.
It is the equivalent of asking: Why doesn’t a dove take on a kettle of hawks? The answer is obvious to anyone with an ounce of empathy or understanding. The abused already know that the deck is stacked. That their abuser chose them in part because they lacked the power to fight back. That’s how predators operate. That’s what predation is.
And we must reckon with the truth: A man like Trump was able to sexually abuse women and girls, knowing full well that he had the means to silence them. He would flaunt it. “If you say anything, I will ruin you.” That’s not hypothetical. That’s the implicit—and sometimes explicit—message victims of the powerful receive. And Trump, uniquely, did become the most powerful man in the world. Now imagine being one of his victims, watching that ascendancy, seeing the system not only fail to stop him, but elevate him. Would you speak out?
Even grown men, even senators, even generals are afraid to cross him. We’ve seen this cowardice on display—an entire political party bending the knee to a man they privately admit is unstable, dangerous, unfit, and downright evil. So spare us the rhetorical posturing that asks why children or traumatized victims didn’t launch a frontal assault on the empire of a billionaire rapist surrounded by fixers, lawyers, cronies, and media allies.
No. The question is not why didn’t they speak out sooner? The question is: How many more would have spoken if we lived in a world that actually protected them? How many more were silenced not by fear alone, but by the chilling reality that no one with power would stand with them?
This question—this disgusting, sanctimonious, blame-the-victim inquiry—is part of the abuse. It’s a way to cast doubt, to discredit, to make the listener think maybe they’re lying. It is gaslighting at scale. And it is strategic. And it is evil.
We must learn to recognize this tactic for what it is: the voice of the abuser echoed by his defenders.
Because what these men fear most is not being accused. It’s being believed.
And that is why they fight so hard to shame the victims into silence. It is why they demonize the press. It is why they corrupt the courts. It is why Trump, like Epstein before him, relies on money, muscle, and media distortion to stay insulated from justice. Because justice is the one thing that still threatens them.
And so, the only righteous response to that vile question is this:
They didn’t speak out sooner because we weren’t ready to listen. But we damn well better listen now.
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