The World Loves Powerful Men. Even When They’re Violent.

Photo by Teddy Yang/Pexels

Let’s tell the truth today.

The world loves powerful men. Even when they’re violent.
Especially when they’re violent.

It doesn’t matter if he’s a cop, a coach, a clergy member, a CEO.
If he’s charming, confident, successful, or speaks well on TV—he’s protected.

Not because he’s innocent.

But because power, in this world, is too often worshiped before it’s ever questioned.

We’ve seen it.

A woman says, “He hurt me.”
And the world replies, “But he’s such a good guy.”
“He helps so many people.”
“He’s done so much for the community.”

As if impact cancels out harm.
As if status wipes blood clean.
As if victims should be grateful for the crumbs of kindness that fall between beatings and threats.

Survivors are not confused.
We know what we saw.
We know what we lived through.
We know how many people heard our cries and turned up the music so they wouldn’t have to hear.

And when powerful men hurt us, the pain is multiplied—because we already know what’s coming:

• The discrediting.

• The disbelief.

• The defenders who show up with shiny résumés and empty hearts.

• The men who say, “Well I never saw him do anything like that,” as if that’s the same as innocence.

Let me say this plainly:

Abusers don’t abuse everyone.
They don’t have to.
They only need to harm you and have everyone else look the other way.

And far too often, the world obliges.

Not because they don’t believe you.
But because they don’t want to lose what he gives them—money, status, opportunity, influence.

So they pretend they don’t see what he’s doing.
They stay quiet.
They stay close.
And they make space for harm—right in the center of community.

But we see you, Survivor.

We believe the truth you carry in your bones.

We know what it’s like to tell your story and be met with PR statements, Instagram tributes, and men in back rooms trading favors and pretending they didn’t know.

We know what it’s like to lose everything just because you spoke the truth.

But you still told it.

You are not alone.

You are not invisible.

And you are not the one who should feel ashamed.

Until the world stops falling in love with powerful men more than they love the truth—
we will keep telling it.
We will keep standing.
We will keep protecting each other, even when they won’t.

We survive abuse.
And we expose the systems that let it happen.

On our own terms.
In our own voices.
Without apology.