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- Here’s the truth about sexual assault: There is no right way to respond to it, no right time.
- Even powerful women are steamrolled over and over again by the overwhelming presumption that they are lying.
Why now? Why now?
Every time a woman comes forward with her story of sexual assault, this is the first question she faces. OK, maybe the second — after some variation of “Are you a lying slut?”
At least we are consistent. But on behalf of all survivors everywhere, of any gender, identity or age, let me give you some blanket answers to “Why now?”
Survivors come forward now, whenever now is, because they have reached the point in their recovery when facing the inevitable “lying slut” accusation is less terrible than watching their abuser strut around as if that person is not a dangerous, cruel predator who is almost certainly going to hurt someone else if they are not stopped.
Whether it’s in Congress, on a movie set, in the halls of their school — wherever that predator is just living their life without consequence — there is a survivor who has been cowering in the shadows of her own life, in pain, wanting to scream to the world that this person is not what they seem.
But the price of that honesty has always been steep. Too steep. Even after #MeToo.
Ask Cassie Ventura. Ask Jennifer Siebel Newsom. Ask E. Jean Carroll. Dolores Huerta. Simone Biles.
Lonna Drewes alleges Rep. Eric Swalwell drugged her drink and sexually assaulted her in 2018. ‘I lost consciousness and I thought I died,’ she says.
Even powerful women can’t escape the blowback, the fear. Even powerful women are steamrolled over and over again by the overwhelming presumption that they are lying, and that there is an ulterior motive for coming forward at this particular moment.
Imagine just being an average person holding that secret. Who are any of us to stand up alone against a rich and powerful man whose very freedom will depend on crushing our credibility?
P. Diddy. Harvey Weinstein. Donald Trump. César Chávez. Larry Nassar. Eric Swalwell.
Those men know power, and know how to use it.
“He thought he was untouchable. He acted with total impunity. He never thought that the consequences of his actions would follow him,” Ally Sammarco, one of the women who spoke out about Swalwell (who has previously denied allegations of misconduct), told CBS.
It’s why the women of the Epstein files stayed silent for so long. It’s why there are thousands of rape survivors out there right now who have never said a word about what they endured, and maybe never will.
“Why now?” is just a more palatable version of “lying slut,” a question based on ignorance about how trauma — and society — works. A question meant not to elicit fact, but to feed the Jezebel frenzy men always use in their attempt to escape justice.
Here’s the truth about sexual assault: There is no right way to respond to it, no right time. There is no one reaction that proves it happened or that creates the perfect scenario that will protect the survivor’s reputation while delivering justice upon the predator. In fact, there is really no way at all to respond to a sexual assault that won’t bring secondary trauma.
Wait years and face disdain — that it didn’t happen, wasn’t serious, is only coming out now for some agenda, like politics or money.
Report it immediately and be prepared for every move, every smile, every sip of a drink, to be examined for signs that this was, if not consensual, somehow deserved — a gray area of shared responsibility.
Imagine, at a moment of crushing vulnerability, when your body has been violated and your mind is reeling trying to find safe ground, being bludgeoned by these accusations, stated or implied, that you brought this on yourself.
“Why now?” becomes “Why would you?”
Even when the scenario is one in which there can be no defense — such as the UCLA gynecologist, James Heaps, who on Tuesday pleaded guilty to sexually abusing five of his patients during exams — the cost of reporting is terrible. That case has wound on for years, leaving each of the victims to constantly relive their worst moments, constantly fear that all of their courage would come to nothing.
Which is why survivors don’t always come forward. Maybe they need time to put themselves back together, even just a little bit. Maybe the fear of all that societal scrutiny is just too much. Maybe they fear they won’t be believed, and their attacker will be free to harm them again.
Maybe they just want it to all go away. Maybe they do blame themselves, and are paralyzed by an unfounded shame.
Ex-UCLA doctor pleads guilty to sexually abusing 5 patients, gets 11 years
There are so many reasons why survivors stay silent — and none of them are because it didn’t happen, or because they are lying.
Lonna Drewes, the Beverly Hills model who came forward Tuesday with an accusation that Swalwell drugged and raped her in 2018, summed up the experience of many, many survivors.
“I did not want to live anymore,” she said of how she felt after the attack. “I cried all the time for years.”
So here’s the real answer to “Why now?” from a victim’s statement that one of Heaps’ survivors read in court.
“What you intended to break, you did not,” she said.
That is the answer to “Why now?” Because the bravery and courage at the heart of the survivor was bruised but not defeated.
Because she doesn’t want it to happen to anyone else.
Because she deserves to be free of his secrets: Ones she has been forced to keep out of fear of him, but also of us.
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Ideas expressed in the piece
The question “Why now?” reflects societal ignorance about how trauma functions, with survivors coming forward when they reach a point in recovery where facing accusations feels less painful than watching their abuser remain free without consequences[1].
There is no universally “right” way to respond to sexual assault, as survivors face criticism and secondary trauma regardless of timing—waiting years invites skepticism about credibility while reporting immediately subjects survivors to scrutiny of their behavior and choices[1].
Delayed reporting is a normal and common reaction to sexual trauma, driven by legitimate concerns including fear of not being believed, shame rooted in self-blame, anxiety about retaliation from the abuser, and the overwhelming desire for the trauma to simply disappear[3].
Survivors frequently experience intense psychological distress following assault, including depression, anxiety, loss of trust, and feelings of shame and guilt that can paralyze them for years, making delayed disclosure understandable rather than suspect[5].
The developmental timing of trauma exposure significantly affects long-term psychological outcomes, with early childhood trauma exposure resulting in higher levels of post-traumatic stress symptoms, demonstrating that trauma’s impact is profound and shapes survivors’ recovery trajectories[2].
Survivors are often motivated to disclose their trauma to prevent future harm to others, even years after experiencing assault, suggesting that delayed reporting frequently stems from protective impulses rather than ulterior motives[6].
Different views on the topic
Trauma recovery operates as a phased process with specific milestones, and professional support during the remembrance and mourning phase—when survivors process trauma by putting words and emotions to their experience—can facilitate integration of the trauma into their identity rather than allowing it to remain fragmented[4].
Immediate disclosure and support-seeking can play crucial roles in recovery, as turning to personal support systems and professional help when emotional reactions interfere with relationships and functioning represents an important step toward healing[7].
While delayed reporting is understandable, some survivors who maintain interactions with their offenders post-assault report transformative outcomes including gaining perspective, achieving forgiveness, and finding the ability to move forward with their lives—processes that may benefit from earlier engagement rather than prolonged silence[6].
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