Each time a major sexual assault case comes to light, the public conversation follows a familiar pattern. Awareness campaigns are launched. Safety tips are shared. People are reminded to watch their drinks, walk in groups, and trust their instincts. The focus quickly turns to what potential victims should do differently.
But the harder question remains: Why does sexual assault continue to happen on such a large scale?
Recent headlines make that question impossible to ignore. The world continues to grapple with the legacy of the Jeffrey Epstein case, which exposed how wealth, influence, and institutional failures allowed sexual abuse to continue for years despite repeated warnings. At the same time, new allegations involving César Chávez have forced communities to confront painful questions about power, loyalty, and silence within movements built on justice. Survivors in those cases have described years of fear, retaliation, and disbelief, underscoring a truth that extends far beyond any single individual.
Consider also the recent case in France involving Gisèle Pelicot. For nearly a decade, her husband drugged her and invited dozens of men to rape her while she was unconscious in her own home. Investigators later identified more than ninety assaults committed by multiple perpetrators over several years. This was not a stranger in a dark alley. This was a husband, a home, and a network of men who chose to participate. The case shocked the world, yet it reflects a pattern that has existed for generations.
Sexual violence is rarely random. Research from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention consistently shows that the perpetrator is often someone the survivor knows, such as a partner, coworker, neighbor, or family member. These environments are built on trust, authority, and power.
I wrote previously about prevention in trusted spaces and continue to stand by that recommendation. Prevention should be directed toward people known to us, not only toward strangers. But the second most important priority is accountability. Without accountability, prevention becomes a promise without protection.
The scale of sexual violence raises uncomfortable questions. Is the problem a lack of awareness or a lack of consequences? Is it a failure of education or a failure of systems to act when harm occurs? Sexual violence is not only about individual behavior. It is deeply connected to the misuse of power and control, particularly in environments where authorities go unchecked and reputation is protected.
To be sure, men can also be victims of sexual assault. Their experiences deserve recognition, support, and justice. Yet the reality remains that sexual violence is shaped by social structures that normalize dominance and entitlement. These dynamics often place men in positions of authority and influence, making them more likely to be perpetrators and making institutions more hesitant to hold them accountable. This is not an accusation against individuals. It is an acknowledgment of patterns that have persisted across generations.
Breaking the silence has become a rallying cry in recent years. Survivors who come forward are often described as courageous, and rightly so. Speaking about sexual violence requires extraordinary strength. But courage should not be a prerequisite for safety. Reporting harm should not feel like stepping into uncertainty without protection.
Many survivors never report sexual assault. Studies have shown that fear of retaliation, disbelief, stigma, and institutional inaction are among the most common reasons survivors remain silent. Silence is often interpreted as weakness or shame, but in many cases, it is a rational response to systems that have historically failed to deliver justice.
Recent revelations across sectors have reinforced this reality. In the Epstein case, records showed that warnings about abuse surfaced repeatedly before meaningful action was taken. In the emerging allegations surrounding César Chávez, survivors have described remaining silent for years out of concern that speaking out would harm a movement they believed in. These stories differ in context and geography, but they share a common thread: power without accountability creates risk.
The persistence of sexual violence is not evidence of moral failure among survivors. It is evidence of structural failure within institutions.
If society is serious about preventing sexual violence, safety can no longer be treated as an individual responsibility. It must be treated as an institutional obligation. Prevention cannot depend on survivors being vigilant. It must depend on systems being accountable. Policies alone do not create safety. Enforcement does. Action does. Consequences do. Institutions must do more than write procedures and conduct training. They must respond decisively when harm occurs. They must protect those who report misconduct. And they must accept responsibility when failures happen. Real prevention requires reporting systems that survivors can trust without fear of retaliation, consistent enforcement of policies regardless of status or reputation, leadership that is held responsible for safety outcomes rather than procedural compliance, independent oversight when misconduct is alleged, and consequences that are timely, transparent, and unavoidable. These are not aspirational goals. They are the minimum standards of any institution that claims to protect people. Safety is not created by awareness alone. Safety is created by accountability.
Sexual violence will not end through awareness campaigns alone. It will not end through training sessions or policy statements. It will end when institutions demonstrate that harm carries consequences and that power does not shield perpetrators from responsibility.
Prevention begins with education. It continues with accountability. It becomes real only when systems are willing to act.
Stephanie Whack is a survivor of domestic violence, an advocate at the intersection of victimization and homelessness, and a member of The OpEd Project Public Voices Fellowship on Domestic Violence and Economic Security. In 2024, she was awarded the LA City Dr. Marjorie Braude Award for innovative collaboration in serving victims of domestic violence.
