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Alicia Peters is an associate professor of anthropology at the University of New England. The views expressed in this article are her own. She is a member of the Maine chapter of the national Scholars Strategy Network, which brings together scholars across the country to address public challenges and their policy implications.
When dozens of survivors tell remarkably similar stories, when financial records corroborate payments, when court documents outline the recruitment of minors, why does public doubt persist? The case of Jeffrey Epstein makes clear that disbelief is often less about evidence and more about power — who has it, who threatens it, and who is protected by it.
Epstein, before his death, along with his partner and accomplice, Ghislaine Maxwell, were both charged with, and Maxwell convicted of, sex trafficking and related federal crimes. Yet links to Epstein have resulted in only a small number of resignations and minimal accountability — hardly what one might expect from a conspiracy of this magnitude.
The public and our legal system hold survivors to an almost unattainably high standard. Human trafficking and sexual assault survivors often struggle to be taken seriously because they fail to fit the cultural mold of an “ideal victim.” We have constructed a narrow script for credibility. In the public imagination “authentic” victims are young, white, and sexually blameless. They fight back, seek help from law enforcement, and report immediately. There is no prior relationship with the abuser, and they never return.
But trafficking rarely resembles that script. It often begins with a known romantic partner or trusted acquaintance. There may be attention, flattery, and promises of opportunity. It frequently involves economic vulnerability. Survivors may return because coercion is psychological as much as physical. Research shows that trauma responses are not linear; they are messy and deeply human.
Yet the Epstein case presents a striking inversion in that the survivors meet society’s criteria for “good victims” on account of their youth and innocence. Under federal law, the recruitment of minors for sex meets the definition of severe forms of sex trafficking. There is no legal ambiguity, and yet the crimes against those who have come forward have been downplayed, with limited accountability for those who shielded and conspired with Epstein.
Our collective notions of traffickers also are shaped by stereotypes. We picture Black, brown, or foreign men, assuming they must be gang members or drug dealers. Epstein was none of those things. He was wealthy, white, and embedded in elite circles. He cultivated relationships with prominent academics, business leaders, political figures, and royalty.
Power protects itself. To fully believe survivors requires acknowledging not just individual wrongdoing, but the possibility of systemic tolerance among those who benefited from proximity to influence. Public figures can face numerous accusations and remain viable in American politics.
President Donald Trump has faced multiple allegations of sexual assault and retains extensive support. According to The New York Times, there are more than 5,300 files with references to Trump in documents released by the U.S. Department of Justice. Believing the survivors of Epstein’s abuse does not simply topple faith in one or two individuals. It threatens an entire network of power.
Meanwhile, the system often criminalizes survivors. A survey of 130 trafficking survivors by the National Survivor Network found that more than 90% of respondents had been arrested at least once during the course of being trafficked. Over half believed their arrests and convictions were directly related to their trafficking. Only 34.5% reported knowing that their trafficker had been arrested. Traffickers often have charges dismissed or are prosecuted for lesser crimes, while survivors carry criminal records that make employment and housing harder to secure, compounding the vulnerabilities that led to their exploitation. In my own research, multiple survivors spoke about reporting abuse to law enforcement and not being believed.
The effects of sexual assault and trafficking continue to ripple through survivors’ lives in ways not felt by their assailants. Prior to releasing large sections of the Epstein files, the Justice Department redacted statements about powerful men yet initially failed to protect the identities of survivors whose names were published.
The case shows that even when there is substantial evidence and survivors fit the ideal victim mold, victim blaming persists. When multitudes of survivors substantiate a long history and network of abuse yet are met with suspicion rather than empathy, the message reverberates beyond a single case. It tells future victims that coming forward will invite doubt rather than scrutiny of the alleged perpetrators and their circle of protection. It is time we stop defending abusers and start believing and empowering survivors instead.
