“But the worst things Epstein and Maxwell did to me weren’t physical, but psychological. From the start they manipulated me into participating in behaviors that ate away at me, eroding my ability to comprehend reality and preventing me from defending myself.” Virginia Giuffre, “Nobody’s Girl.”
It doesn’t happen as a flash headline. It goes unnoticed behind the scenes meticulously woven into the tapestry of society. Hidden, like the lost piece of a puzzle, revealed only to those courageous enough to pause, see, hear. Left unnoticed, it soon fades, silent and lost, and becomes like a footnote you’d look for later to try and understand. It is the voice, song, of our most vulnerable girls and in the notation, the redacted names of rich and powerful men.
The great irony of the enslavement was, Giuffre writes, “There were no bars on the windows or locks on the doors. I was a prisoner trapped in an invisible cage.” Having worked as a mental health counselor, I know all too well about that invisible cage. It forms early around children who’ve experienced abuse. And Giuffre recounts how good Epstein was at “spotting girls whose wounds made them vulnerable to him.”
With no intervention, the long-term effects of abuse are insidious, preventing the development of healthy boundaries, and leave a child confused about what love is. Meanwhile, any sense of healthy autonomy is stunted creating a void, one Epstein knew masterfully how to fill. Simply, he’d promise, initially, what a girl most wanted. Giuffre gives examples of an actor or painter. He’d promise to help get them roles or introduce them to key people in the art world. To the often poor, sometimes even homeless, girls, this seemed like finally a new start, like someone cared.
But, of course, it was never to support their voice to sing its song. No. The only song allowed was one that made Epstein smile. And Maxwell, co-conspirator and key recruiter, scouted the streets to fill the auditions.
Sadly, this silencing of the voice, the song, of women can be seen throughout women’s lives in the tapestry of our society often cloaked in the most acceptable of disguises. As a minister, I’m most sensitive to how it shows up in the religious sector. I’ve seen firsthand, across faith traditions, how the song is silenced when gender dictates and segregates participation. Silenced when men tell us scripture ordains men to preach and women to listen.
As a predominantly Christian nation, we see many factions which remain committed to silencing the songs of women at the top levels of leadership in all three branches: the Orthodox traditions, Catholicism, and in conservative Protestant traditions. Many cite1Timothy 2:12 as biblical precedence, “I permit no woman to teach or to have authority over a man.” At the time, men feared repercussions to the conventional domestic order. You could say the same today.
What is not so often noted is that in the very early Christian Church women had key roles in both ministry and teaching. Historical and cultural contexts are conveniently contorted by those wishing to cherry pick scripture to enforce a modern-day return to what is quaintly called traditional family values, where women know their place and don’t dare to sing. And ultimately, I fear the songs of women will go silent and die in a society that desperately tries to impose a template of gender ideology on the spirit of its people.
While the Blessed Mother is revered in Orthodox and Catholic traditions, girls grow up praying to God the “Father.” Jesus and the disciples were men. Ascribed authors of the Biblical canon were men. In many faith traditions, all community leaders are men. The earthly father is heralded as head of the household. Is it any wonder a girl might find herself asking, “Where is someone important who looks like me?”
Woven into that tapestry is the silent message, “Men have the power,” long before the ubiquitous implications can be considered or understood. Add to that a history of abuse and it’s not hard to understand how stealth predators find and then are able to keep their prey in those invisible cages.
Attorney General Bondi: Imagine you had the courage of the survivors who’ve come forward? Imagine you were brave enough to use your voice to open an untold number of those invisible cages in pursuit of justice? If so, you’d remove all redactions from names of perpetrators in the Epstein files, long protected by privilege, wealth and connection, to finally face accountability.
Giuffre states at one point how she sometimes marvels at how she managed to endure. But then concludes, “There’s something within all of us, even when we’re not aware of it, that fights to keep our spirits alive.”
Sadly, she would lose that fight. But her words, her voice, indeed, her song, will continue on, uncaged and free.
Stephanie Rutt 