How Epstein Survivors Made Their Voices Impossible to Ignore

With support from World Without Exploitation, Liz Stein and more than 20 survivors led a powerful call on Capitol Hill for the release of the Epstein files and real accountability.

Earlier this summer, I sat with Liz Stein at a kitchen table in Brooklyn. A survivor of abuse by Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell, she was exhausted, and she was angry. A storm of media coverage of the Department of Justice’s interview of Maxwell left her surrounded by photos of her abusers, who had been enabled by the system so many times. When news came that Maxwell had been transferred to a minimum-security facility, Liz hit her breaking point. Once again, survivors were being talked about—not heard. 

It was around that kitchen table that an idea was born: What if we could shift the narrative? What if we could bring Liz, and numerous Epstein survivors, together to reclaim the microphone? Rather than magnifying the voice of a convicted perjurer and abuser, we could instead amplify the voices of survivors who had been silenced.

Fast-forward to Sept. 3, when over 20 Epstein-Maxwell survivors descended on Washington, D.C. Standing together on Capitol Hill, these brave women came with power, clarity and purpose. They demanded that lawmakers, the media and the public finally listen—not to Maxwell’s repeated lies, but to those women whose courage has carried this fight for decades.

For years, these women were kept apart. Many didn’t even know the others existed. That was no accident. Rather, it was a deliberate tactic to isolate, strip them of community, and weaken their voices. But, on that warm day in D.C., the walls of isolation came crashing down. Side-by-side, they stood not as scattered individuals, but as a united force impossible to ignore.

In a stunning showing of solidarity, they issued three clear, uncompromising demands:

1. Release the files. All of the files. Every record in the FBI’s possession must be made public. Survivors—and the public—deserve the full truth, an uncensored and unredacted of anything except the names of the victims and survivors.
2. Commit to truth. This cannot be reduced to political theater or partisan point-scoring. Survivors want a real truth-seeking mission that centers facts, not spin.
3. Uphold justice. There must be no pardon, no leniency, no special treatment for Ghislaine Maxwell. Her conviction must stand as a rare acknowledgment of accountability in a system that too often denies it.

These are not radical demands. They’re the absolute bare minimum of what survivors deserve after decades of being ignored. 

Survivors deserve to see the full scope of the files, and the public deserves to understand how such exploitation was allowed to persist for so long.

Let’s be clear: This fight is not only about Jeffrey Epstein or Ghislaine Maxwell. Or any exploiter who was their accomplice. Although these names dominate the headlines, this moment belongs to the women who survived them.

Liz Stein is one of those women, and there are many others. We may never know just how many women were ensnared in Epstein’s web of exploitation. Some have gone public, bravely attaching their names and faces to their stories. Others have chosen privacy, protecting themselves and their families in the only way they can. 

All of them matter.

As I stood there watching survivor after survivor speak out, I was struck by the surrounding community of survivors who came to D.C. to show their support. And then something amazing happened—we were approached by several women we had not met before, who disclosed that they too were Epstein survivors. They told us, “I needed to be here today. I needed to listen to my survivor sisters. This gave me strength and empowered me for the very first time.” One woman told me it was the first time she’d said out loud that Epstein had abused her. Courage is contagious.

The crowd that day included survivors of Epstein and Maxwell, and survivors of other exploiters as well. Epstein and Maxwell were extreme in their net worth and the number of their victims, but they are not unique. They’re symptoms of something much bigger. Sexual exploitation and trafficking thrive in silence and secrecy. They flourish when power shields the powerful and when survivors are silenced.

For too long, America has failed to confront that reality. Instead, people have ignored the conditions that make such crimes possible. In every case of exploitation, there is power disparity between the exploiter and those exploited. Abusers seek out victims with vulnerabilities, such as poverty, prior history of sexual abuse, and complex family trauma. Traffickers operate because there is a demand for commercial sex.

Every survivor’s story pulls back the curtain a little further, revealing how deep the rot goes. 

That is why releasing the full Epstein files matters. It’s not about feeding the public’s curiosity. It’s about ensuring the truth cannot be buried and that those who cause harm are held to account. Survivors deserve to see the full scope of the files, and the public deserves to understand how such exploitation was allowed to persist for so long.

A failure to act would be an invitation to repeat history. If the files aren’t released, our country would be telling survivors that their courage does not matter and that justice is negotiable. And we’ll be signaling to the next generation of abusers that the system will protect them too.

But there’s another path. We can listen. We can amplify. We can refuse to erase survivors, and instead place them at the center of the story, where they belong.

When I think back to that kitchen table in Brooklyn, I remember Liz’s utter exhaustion, but I also remember her fierce determination. She was angry, yes, but she was also courageous. And her courage spread. It spread to the women who stood together on Capitol Hill, to the advocates who have walked beside them, and to everyone who refuses to let this moment pass in silence. Hopefully, it will continue to spread to our elected leaders, as well.

The time for courage is not tomorrow. It is today. And today, we stand with survivors.