Why haven't more women in the Epstein files come forward? Because they were powerless - and so was I
Victims' voices are being drowned out in the circus of he-said-she-said and the jeering of parliament, writes Rosalie Van Zutphen
I was in an abusive relationship for just over a year during my first year of university.
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By Rosalie Van Zutphen
The assault happened on campus, at a point when the relationship had become extremely controlling. He was monitoring where I was, and the abuse had escalated significantly.
I didn’t report it because I did not feel safe to tell anyone what had happened to me. I did not feel safe going to the police or a Sexual Assault Referral Centre. If my abuser had found out that I had reported what happened, it would have put my life at serious risk. He had all of the power. His violence intensified after the assault, and I was genuinely afraid of what would happen if he knew.
If you haven’t experienced rape, it can be easy to assume you know what you would do in that moment. At the time of the attack, my body went into a state of paralysis. I couldn’t speak or move, and I dissociated completely. I felt like I was watching what was happening from outside my body.
I had experienced this before; I had been raped previously and had the same response, and I was in utter shock that this had happened to me for a second time. Afterwards, I felt completely helpless and hopeless. I was in shock for a long time, and for at least a week, it didn’t feel real.
Although I knew, logically, that reporting might have been the “right” thing to do, I simply wasn’t capable of it in that state.
Even after that initial period, fear stopped me from coming forward. I was still with him, still being monitored, and I didn’t feel like there was a way out. He knew where I lived, including back home, and he was physically much bigger than I was. The fear was constant.
On top of that, I had previously reported a separate incident to the police and had a deeply negative experience that felt heavily laced with victim-blaming. I was asked why I hadn’t reported sooner, and told there was little they could do, I was in trouble for not responding in the right way. If only these people knew what it was like to be in a position where you're completely powerless.
When I eventually spoke publicly about what happened, many people - women and men - shared their own experiences with me. I come from a small community, and it was overwhelming how common these stories were. It made me realise just how widespread sexual violence is, and how rarely people feel able to talk about it.
Rape remains a taboo subject, and survivors often feel they have to deal with it alone. Even accessing specialist therapy has been extremely difficult due to long waiting lists and a lack of trained professionals. You can’t just pick up the phone to a therapist; it’s a specialism, and the waiting lists are shocking. Without money for private care, support is often inaccessible.
We need to give people who experience sexual assault another option. This is something I am advocating for with not-for-profit Enough. When I discovered Enough, it resonated with me immediately. I couldn’t understand why something like this didn’t already exist. A discreet, self-administered way to collect and store DNA evidence would have been the only option that felt safe for me at the time. I could have done it privately, without alerting my abuser, and without having to go to a police station. For someone being monitored and controlled, that option could make the difference between having evidence or having nothing at all. I could have reported my rape anonymously and felt empowered in the knowledge that I had options to report officially later, and likely be taken more seriously than not having any evidence at all.
The long-term impact on my life has been profound. I lost friends, particularly because some people didn’t believe me. Psychologically and emotionally, the effects have been ongoing, especially around intimacy and relationships. I experience symptoms of PTSD, but haven’t been able to access proper assessment or treatment. Healing takes time, but without adequate resources, recovery is far more difficult.
I look around at the names and faces that are coming forward as survivors in the rape scandals from the Epstein files and I can see myself in these victims. We are silent because there was no other choice at the time. It was not safe to be anything but silent.
For me, and for so many others, having a choice - an option to report rape anonymously and to collect DNA evidence safely matters. It’s not about forcing survivors to report - it’s about giving them control, safety, and time in situations where everything else feels impossible.
I hope that if we take anything from the abhorrent outpouring from the Epstein files scandal, it is that when it comes to rape, reporting to the police isn’t always giving people a voice; sometimes it will, in fact, take that voice away.
In times of terror and power imbalance, silence can be the only way out. If we want to hear survivors, we need to listen to them - and that needs to come from their ability to tell their story and to be believed, however they can. Right now, these voices are being drowned out in the circus of he-said-she-said - and the jeering of Prime Minister's Question Time, while the powers that be pass the responsibility buck.
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Rosalie Van Zutphen is an Advocate for not-for-profit Enough and a rape survivor.
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