Beyond the Epstein FIles : Believing the Survivors

 

Speaking the Truth, Even When It’s Uncomfortable

I know I’m going a bit off topic this morning. But I do my best writing when I’m emotionally attached to what I’m sharing. This blog has always been a kind of public journal for me. My hope is simple: to let people know they are not alone. I speak my truth—whether it’s right or wrong—because it’s my truth.

So let’s talk about the elephant in the room: the Epstein files.

Whenever I see an email with names blacked out, or hear people whisper about “the list,” I feel a pit in my stomach. It’s a heavy wave of sadness. It’s 2026, and I watch other countries confront horrific acts head-on—holding people accountable, issuing apologies, acknowledging survivors. And yet here, that accountability feels painfully absent.

I refuse to call these women victims. They are survivors. A survivor is someone who endures the storm and comes out the other side. A victim is a label that traps people in a moment. These women are far more than that.

I am a survivor of domestic violence. Many people are. I am not unique, and I am not alone. But I will say this plainly: I am deeply disappointed by the way some Americans are responding to this case.

Brave women—women who refuse to stay silent, women who are terrified to tell their stories but do it anyway—are still not being heard. No one is apologizing. No one is standing up and saying, I believe you, and accountability matters.

These women are heroes to me.

They have remained strong, using their voices, pushing and pushing until they are heard. Everyone seems obsessed with who is “on the list.” Quite frankly, who cares? Can we focus on the survivors? On the lives that were permanently altered by people who thought they had power?

Because the truth is, they don’t. Anyone who commits acts like this lacks a moral compass. They don’t know the difference between right and wrong—they only know what benefits them.

When I first told my story, it wasn’t easy. People didn’t believe me. Some thought I was the crazy one. I didn’t argue. I didn’t try to convince them. I let them think whatever they wanted—because I knew the truth. It was mine, and I wasn’t backing down.

I ask you to take a moment and put yourself in these women’s shoes. Imagine telling your story to strangers over and over again, reliving trauma repeatedly—only to watch people look the other way. To those who do, I say this: stop turning away from the truth. Look at it directly. It’s the only way to accept it.

Horrible things happened to girls who were threatened with violence against their families if they spoke up. They were forced to bury their emotions just to survive. Now, as adults, they are finally speaking—and still carrying the weight of profound loss. Loss of who they might have been. Loss of self-esteem. Loss of self-worth.

I believe them. I believe what they say, and I believe who they are speaking about.

Please—speak out for them.

They deserve justice. They deserve to be heard. They deserve the chance to believe in themselves again. Using this situation for political gain is not just wrong—it is disgusting and demeaning to anyone who has ever been abused in any way.

Silence protects no one.