When We Ask Survivors to Prove What Happened
There is something deeply unsettling about watching the news last week and into this week. A man whose name became synonymous with the #MeToo movement has once again been sentenced for sexual assault. At the same time, a sexual assault investigation involving a former Cornell University student is being reopened after a civil lawsuit brought renewed attention to the case.
Different cases. Different circumstances. Different legal questions.
But for those of us who work with survivors of sexual violence every day, there is a common thread that is impossible to ignore:
How much are we asking survivors to endure before we believe that what happened to them matters?
Harvey Weinstein's case is a stark example of how long and difficult the pursuit of accountability can become. His original New York conviction was overturned on appeal. He was retried and convicted again, and last week was sentenced to 15 years for the sexual assault of Miriam Haley. His legal proceedings have stretched across years, with repeated testimony, appeals and public scrutiny.
In Ithaca, NY, a former student alleges that she was drugged and sexually assaulted by members of a fraternity in 2024. Following the filing of a civil lawsuit this month, the Tompkins County District Attorney's Office announced that it was reopening its investigation and considering whether additional evidence should be presented to a grand jury. The allegations remain allegations, and the legal process will determine what can be established.
Yet there is another story happening alongside the legal one: the story of the survivor.
We have to stop assuming that there is one correct way for a victim of sexual assault to behave, there isn't. Some survivors report immediately. Some tell a friend first. Some seek medical care. Some seek counseling. Some never report to law enforcement at all.
Some take days, months or years before they can put words to what happened.
Delayed reporting is common after sexual violence and can be connected to trauma from the assault itself, fear, shame, threats, confusion, safety concerns or a lack of trust in the systems available to them. It is not, by itself, evidence that someone is lying.
And yet survivors are still routinely asked:
Why didn't you leave?
Why did you keep talking to him?
Why did you go back?
Why didn't you report?
Why didn't you fight?
Why didn't you remember every detail?
Why did you wait?
The better question is:
What did this person need in order to be safe enough to tell someone?
At Safe Monroe, we know that sexual assault does not end when the assault ends.
For some survivors, the hardest part may come after the assault, when they are deciding whether to tell someone, or to seek medical care, to make report, whether to testify, whether to confront an institution, whether they can return to work or school, whether they can trust anyone again.
And then there is the waiting; waiting for an investigation, for a decision, a court date, through an appeal. Waiting for someone to decide whether what happened to them was serious enough to warrant action.
That is an extraordinary burden to place on someone who has already experienced violence.
We may be reading about Harvey Weinstein in New York or allegations involving a college campus in Ithaca, but sexual violence is not something that happens somewhere else, to other people, in other communities.
It happens here.
At Safe Monroe, we hear from survivors every week who are trying to make sense of what happened to them. Some are ready to report, some are not. Others aren't even sure whether what happened to them "counts" as sexual assault.
They call our hotline in the middle of the night or meet us at the hospital while seeking help and a rape exam, or they can walk through our doors months or years after an assault, ready to talk about something terrible that happened to them.
Our job is not to decide for a survivor what justice should look like, our job is to make sure they know they have options, because when a survivor reaches out, the first response they receive can shape everything that follows. If the first response is disbelief, judgment or a list of reasons they should have done something differently, they may never reach out again.
If the first response is compassion, information and support, they have a chance to begin healing and to make decisions from a place of safety rather than isolation.
Every one of us has a role in changing the way our community responds to sexual violence. It starts with believing that a survivor's response to trauma may not look the way we expect. It means resisting the urge to ask, "Why didn't they...?" and instead asking, "What do they need now?" It means teaching our children and young people about consent, healthy relationships, boundaries and respect before they ever encounter sexual violence. It means creating workplaces, schools, colleges, faith communities and neighborhoods where people know how to respond when someone discloses abuse.
This also means recognizing that supporting survivors does not require us to prejudge the outcome of a criminal investigation.
We can believe survivors deserve to be heard and believe in due process.
We can demand thorough investigations and recognize that not every survivor will report.
We can want accountability and understand that healing does not always happen in a courtroom.
These are not competing ideas.
So, when we read the headlines about sexual violence — whether they come from New York, Ithaca, Hollywood or Washington — let's remember that the most important part of the story isn't always the one making national news.
Because when someone in our community experiences sexual violence, what happens next is up to all of us. And at Safe Monroe, we intend to keep making sure that "what happens next" includes a place to turn.