The #MeToo Stories We’re Not Hearing

This week Time magazine announced that its person of the year is actually a group of people: “the Silence Breakers” who have courageously outed the alleged sexual predation of powerful men like Harvey Weinstein and Roger Ailes.

But she only burst into the national consciousness last month when the #FreeCyntoia hashtag went viral.

She will not be eligible for parole until 2055, when she will be 67 years old.

Without for a moment diminishing the pain and suffering — whether physical or emotional — of any woman who has now found the voice to speak out against sexism and harassment, for this moment of collective awakening to have a deeper significance, we have to address a very serious question.

Perhaps that’s why, in the weeks since the accusations of vile (and possibly criminal) behavior of Harvey Weinstein altered the public consciousness, and as our understanding of sexual harassment has expanded to include all manner of merely boorish behavior, some highly influential celebrities of color — Rihanna and LeBron James among them — sought to direct our focus to the case of a 29-year-old black woman named Cyntoia Brown.

Perhaps that’s why, in the weeks since the accusations of vile (and possibly criminal) behavior of Harvey Weinstein altered the public consciousness, and as our understanding of sexual harassment has expanded to include all manner of merely boorish behavior, some highly influential celebrities of color — Rihanna and LeBron James among them — sought to direct our focus to the case of a 29-year-old black woman named Cyntoia Brown.

An elementary school dropout and runaway born with fetal alcohol syndrome, at the age of 16 she found herself living in a Nashville motel with an older pimp called Kut Throat who drugged her, raped her repeatedly and forced her into prostitution.

Fortunately, most American women cannot say #MeToo about such a horrific ordeal.

Those who follow the issue of restorative justice have known Ms. Brown’s name for years.

Her father was incarcerated, and a trafficker named George Gilbert Howard, 20 years her senior, began grooming her for sex work when she was just 11 years old.

Comparing Africans (and laboratory animals) to a representative of the white upper class, he concluded, with some disdain, that all their torment combined “is utterly negligible compared with one painful night of a hysterical bluestocking.”

An elementary school dropout and runaway born with fetal alcohol syndrome, at the age of 16 she found herself living in a Nashville motel with an older pimp called Kut Throat who drugged her, raped her repeatedly and forced her into prostitution.

“The curve of human susceptibility to pain seems in fact to take an extraordinary and almost sudden drop as soon as one has passed the upper ten thousand or ten million of the top stratum of culture,” he wrote in “On the Genealogy of Morals.”

Such abuse, Ms. Kruzan stressed, “is protected by silence.”

Her father was incarcerated, and a trafficker named George Gilbert Howard, 20 years her senior, began grooming her for sex work when she was just 11 years old.

There is a 2011 documentary, “Me Facing Life,” dealing with her predicament, which became a factor in changing the way that Tennessee deals with child prostitution cases.

A jury rejected her claim of self-defense, finding her guilty of first-degree murder and aggravated robbery.

On Aug. 6, 2004, when she was 16, she shot and killed a 43-year-old john in his home, when the man allegedly reached under his bed.

But if the cases of high-profile men in politics, media and Hollywood are the cases at which the conversation stops, we will have missed a major opportunity to examine what the very worst sexual abuse looks like — and what we might do to stop it.

If ambitious, highly educated, well-compensated women at major news organizations are being harassed and assaulted with impunity, what is happening to poor and working-class black, brown and white women outside the media’s glare?

Without for a moment diminishing the pain and suffering — whether physical or emotional — of any woman who has now found the voice to speak out against sexism and harassment, for this moment of collective awakening to have a deeper significance, we have to address a very serious question.

Nietzsche believed the lower you ventured on the social hierarchy, the less suffering mattered.

Twelve years into her sentence, Ms. Kruzan received a break when Human Rights Watch brought national attention to her case, prompting the governor at the time, Arnold Schwarzenegger, to commute her sentence.

Ms. Brown was tried as an adult in 2006 and given a life sentence, which she is serving in the Tennessee Prison for Women in Nashville.

Perhaps that’s why, in the weeks since the accusations of vile (and possibly criminal) behavior of Harvey Weinstein altered the public consciousness, and as our understanding of sexual harassment has expanded to include all manner of merely boorish behavior, some highly influential celebrities of color — Rihanna and LeBron James among them — sought to direct our focus to the case of a 29-year-old black woman named Cyntoia Brown.

Though recent studies estimate that a staggering 86 percent of women in jail have suffered some form of sexual violence, the criminal justice system routinely fails to take this into account.

There is a 2011 documentary, “Me Facing Life,” dealing with her predicament, which became a factor in changing the way that Tennessee deals with child prostitution cases.

An elementary school dropout and runaway born with fetal alcohol syndrome, at the age of 16 she found herself living in a Nashville motel with an older pimp called Kut Throat who drugged her, raped her repeatedly and forced her into prostitution.

She was sexually trafficked by her own parents, yet the mitigating factors of her abuse were not taken into account.

Without for a moment diminishing the pain and suffering — whether physical or emotional — of any woman who has now found the voice to speak out against sexism and harassment, for this moment of collective awakening to have a deeper significance, we have to address a very serious question.

Comparing Africans (and laboratory animals) to a representative of the white upper class, he concluded, with some disdain, that all their torment combined “is utterly negligible compared with one painful night of a hysterical bluestocking.”

Fortunately, most American women cannot say #MeToo about such a horrific ordeal.

“These are stories of relentless violence and forgetting,” Ms. Calvin said.

The hope is that this continuing national reckoning will lead to a culture in which women are able to flourish without shame or fear.

I recently spoke to Ms. Kruzan and Elizabeth Calvin of Human Rights Watch, who now collaborate to end the use of life sentences without parole for minors.

Without for a moment diminishing the pain and suffering — whether physical or emotional — of any woman who has now found the voice to speak out against sexism and harassment, for this moment of collective awakening to have a deeper significance, we have to address a very serious question.

This week Time magazine announced that its person of the year is actually a group of people: “the Silence Breakers” who have courageously outed the alleged sexual predation of powerful men like Harvey Weinstein and Roger Ailes.

She will not be eligible for parole until 2055, when she will be 67 years old.

An elementary school dropout and runaway born with fetal alcohol syndrome, at the age of 16 she found herself living in a Nashville motel with an older pimp called Kut Throat who drugged her, raped her repeatedly and forced her into prostitution.

Perhaps that’s why, in the weeks since the accusations of vile (and possibly criminal) behavior of Harvey Weinstein altered the public consciousness, and as our understanding of sexual harassment has expanded to include all manner of merely boorish behavior, some highly influential celebrities of color — Rihanna and LeBron James among them — sought to direct our focus to the case of a 29-year-old black woman named Cyntoia Brown.

If ambitious, highly educated, well-compensated women at major news organizations are being harassed and assaulted with impunity, what is happening to poor and working-class black, brown and white women outside the media’s glare?

Like many women in prison, “Laverne was sexually abused within her family and is a survivor of incest,” Ms. Kruzan told me.

There is a 2011 documentary, “Me Facing Life,” dealing with her predicament, which became a factor in changing the way that Tennessee deals with child prostitution cases.

Perhaps that’s why, in the weeks since the accusations of vile (and possibly criminal) behavior of Harvey Weinstein altered the public consciousness, and as our understanding of sexual harassment has expanded to include all manner of merely boorish behavior, some highly influential celebrities of color — Rihanna and LeBron James among them — sought to direct our focus to the case of a 29-year-old black woman named Cyntoia Brown.

“The curve of human susceptibility to pain seems in fact to take an extraordinary and almost sudden drop as soon as one has passed the upper ten thousand or ten million of the top stratum of culture,” he wrote in “On the Genealogy of Morals.”

Her father was incarcerated, and a trafficker named George Gilbert Howard, 20 years her senior, began grooming her for sex work when she was just 11 years old.

The hope is that this continuing national reckoning will lead to a culture in which women are able to flourish without shame or fear.

Perhaps that’s why, in the weeks since the accusations of vile (and possibly criminal) behavior of Harvey Weinstein altered the public consciousness, and as our understanding of sexual harassment has expanded to include all manner of merely boorish behavior, some highly influential celebrities of color — Rihanna and LeBron James among them — sought to direct our focus to the case of a 29-year-old black woman named Cyntoia Brown.

Without for a moment diminishing the pain and suffering — whether physical or emotional — of any woman who has now found the voice to speak out against sexism and harassment, for this moment of collective awakening to have a deeper significance, we have to address a very serious question.

Perhaps that’s why, in the weeks since the accusations of vile (and possibly criminal) behavior of Harvey Weinstein altered the public consciousness, and as our understanding of sexual harassment has expanded to include all manner of merely boorish behavior, some highly influential celebrities of color — Rihanna and LeBron James among them — sought to direct our focus to the case of a 29-year-old black woman named Cyntoia Brown.

Comparing Africans (and laboratory animals) to a representative of the white upper class, he concluded, with some disdain, that all their torment combined “is utterly negligible compared with one painful night of a hysterical bluestocking.”

Comparing Africans (and laboratory animals) to a representative of the white upper class, he concluded, with some disdain, that all their torment combined “is utterly negligible compared with one painful night of a hysterical bluestocking.”

Perhaps that’s why, in the weeks since the accusations of vile (and possibly criminal) behavior of Harvey Weinstein altered the public consciousness, and as our understanding of sexual harassment has expanded to include all manner of merely boorish behavior, some highly influential celebrities of color — Rihanna and LeBron James among them — sought to direct our focus to the case of a 29-year-old black woman named Cyntoia Brown.

Perhaps that’s why, in the weeks since the accusations of vile (and possibly criminal) behavior of Harvey Weinstein altered the public consciousness, and as our understanding of sexual harassment has expanded to include all manner of merely boorish behavior, some highly influential celebrities of color — Rihanna and LeBron James among them — sought to direct our focus to the case of a 29-year-old black woman named Cyntoia Brown.

Such talk now seems monstrous, yet a visitor from outer space could be forgiven for thinking that many of us continue to see things this way.

Though recent studies estimate that a staggering 86 percent of women in jail have suffered some form of sexual violence, the criminal justice system routinely fails to take this into account.

Perhaps that’s why, in the weeks since the accusations of vile (and possibly criminal) behavior of Harvey Weinstein altered the public consciousness, and as our understanding of sexual harassment has expanded to include all manner of merely boorish behavior, some highly influential celebrities of color — Rihanna and LeBron James among them — sought to direct our focus to the case of a 29-year-old black woman named Cyntoia Brown.

Though recent studies estimate that a staggering 86 percent of women in jail have suffered some form of sexual violence, the criminal justice system routinely fails to take this into account.

Without for a moment diminishing the pain and suffering — whether physical or emotional — of any woman who has now found the voice to speak out against sexism and harassment, for this moment of collective awakening to have a deeper significance, we have to address a very serious question.

An elementary school dropout and runaway born with fetal alcohol syndrome, at the age of 16 she found herself living in a Nashville motel with an older pimp called Kut Throat who drugged her, raped her repeatedly and forced her into prostitution.

“Sara and Cyntoia are not unique,” Ms. Calvin told me.

If ambitious, highly educated, well-compensated women at major news organizations are being harassed and assaulted with impunity, what is happening to poor and working-class black, brown and white women outside the media’s glare?

Without for a moment diminishing the pain and suffering — whether physical or emotional — of any woman who has now found the voice to speak out against sexism and harassment, for this moment of collective awakening to have a deeper significance, we have to address a very serious question.

This week Time magazine announced that its person of the year is actually a group of people: “the Silence Breakers” who have courageously outed the alleged sexual predation of powerful men like Harvey Weinstein and Roger Ailes.

Perhaps that’s why, in the weeks since the accusations of vile (and possibly criminal) behavior of Harvey Weinstein altered the public consciousness, and as our understanding of sexual harassment has expanded to include all manner of merely boorish behavior, some highly influential celebrities of color — Rihanna and LeBron James among them — sought to direct our focus to the case of a 29-year-old black woman named Cyntoia Brown.

If ambitious, highly educated, well-compensated women at major news organizations are being harassed and assaulted with impunity, what is happening to poor and working-class black, brown and white women outside the media’s glare?

But if the cases of high-profile men in politics, media and Hollywood are the cases at which the conversation stops, we will have missed a major opportunity to examine what the very worst sexual abuse looks like — and what we might do to stop it.

For all of the women who have had the strength to share their #MeToo stories, there remain so many women in our culture, most of them poor women of color, who lack the resources or opportunities to add their voices to the growing chorus.

Comparing Africans (and laboratory animals) to a representative of the white upper class, he concluded, with some disdain, that all their torment combined “is utterly negligible compared with one painful night of a hysterical bluestocking.”

Ms. Brown was tried as an adult in 2006 and given a life sentence, which she is serving in the Tennessee Prison for Women in Nashville.

Those who follow the issue of restorative justice have known Ms. Brown’s name for years.

The hope is that this continuing national reckoning will lead to a culture in which women are able to flourish without shame or fear.

If ambitious, highly educated, well-compensated women at major news organizations are being harassed and assaulted with impunity, what is happening to poor and working-class black, brown and white women outside the media’s glare?

(Rihanna’s initial post on Instagram alone received almost two million likes.)

Without for a moment diminishing the pain and suffering — whether physical or emotional — of any woman who has now found the voice to speak out against sexism and harassment, for this moment of collective awakening to have a deeper significance, we have to address a very serious question.

A jury rejected her claim of self-defense, finding her guilty of first-degree murder and aggravated robbery.

Perhaps that’s why, in the weeks since the accusations of vile (and possibly criminal) behavior of Harvey Weinstein altered the public consciousness, and as our understanding of sexual harassment has expanded to include all manner of merely boorish behavior, some highly influential celebrities of color — Rihanna and LeBron James among them — sought to direct our focus to the case of a 29-year-old black woman named Cyntoia Brown.

A jury rejected her claim of self-defense, finding her guilty of first-degree murder and aggravated robbery.

Comparing Africans (and laboratory animals) to a representative of the white upper class, he concluded, with some disdain, that all their torment combined “is utterly negligible compared with one painful night of a hysterical bluestocking.”

Her father was incarcerated, and a trafficker named George Gilbert Howard, 20 years her senior, began grooming her for sex work when she was just 11 years old.

But if the cases of high-profile men in politics, media and Hollywood are the cases at which the conversation stops, we will have missed a major opportunity to examine what the very worst sexual abuse looks like — and what we might do to stop it.

But if the cases of high-profile men in politics, media and Hollywood are the cases at which the conversation stops, we will have missed a major opportunity to examine what the very worst sexual abuse looks like — and what we might do to stop it.

A jury rejected her claim of self-defense, finding her guilty of first-degree murder and aggravated robbery.

For all of the women who have had the strength to share their #MeToo stories, there remain so many women in our culture, most of them poor women of color, who lack the resources or opportunities to add their voices to the growing chorus.

Comparing Africans (and laboratory animals) to a representative of the white upper class, he concluded, with some disdain, that all their torment combined “is utterly negligible compared with one painful night of a hysterical bluestocking.”

Though recent studies estimate that a staggering 86 percent of women in jail have suffered some form of sexual violence, the criminal justice system routinely fails to take this into account.

This week Time magazine announced that its person of the year is actually a group of people: “the Silence Breakers” who have courageously outed the alleged sexual predation of powerful men like Harvey Weinstein and Roger Ailes.

A jury rejected her claim of self-defense, finding her guilty of first-degree murder and aggravated robbery.

I recently spoke to Ms. Kruzan and Elizabeth Calvin of Human Rights Watch, who now collaborate to end the use of life sentences without parole for minors.

Ms. Brown testified that she believed he was reaching for a weapon and feared for her life.

Evidence of the abuse she suffered was deemed inadmissible at her trial.

Perhaps that’s why, in the weeks since the accusations of vile (and possibly criminal) behavior of Harvey Weinstein altered the public consciousness, and as our understanding of sexual harassment has expanded to include all manner of merely boorish behavior, some highly influential celebrities of color — Rihanna and LeBron James among them — sought to direct our focus to the case of a 29-year-old black woman named Cyntoia Brown.

The hope is that this continuing national reckoning will lead to a culture in which women are able to flourish without shame or fear.

She also took money and two guns from the property before fleeing.

“The curve of human susceptibility to pain seems in fact to take an extraordinary and almost sudden drop as soon as one has passed the upper ten thousand or ten million of the top stratum of culture,” he wrote in “On the Genealogy of Morals.”

Twelve years into her sentence, Ms. Kruzan received a break when Human Rights Watch brought national attention to her case, prompting the governor at the time, Arnold Schwarzenegger, to commute her sentence.

If ambitious, highly educated, well-compensated women at major news organizations are being harassed and assaulted with impunity, what is happening to poor and working-class black, brown and white women outside the media’s glare?

Comparing Africans (and laboratory animals) to a representative of the white upper class, he concluded, with some disdain, that all their torment combined “is utterly negligible compared with one painful night of a hysterical bluestocking.”

Ms. Brown testified that she believed he was reaching for a weapon and feared for her life.

Nietzsche believed the lower you ventured on the social hierarchy, the less suffering mattered.

The hope is that this continuing national reckoning will lead to a culture in which women are able to flourish without shame or fear.

Without for a moment diminishing the pain and suffering — whether physical or emotional — of any woman who has now found the voice to speak out against sexism and harassment, for this moment of collective awakening to have a deeper significance, we have to address a very serious question.

But she only burst into the national consciousness last month when the #FreeCyntoia hashtag went viral.

Evidence of the abuse she suffered was deemed inadmissible at her trial.

This week Time magazine announced that its person of the year is actually a group of people: “the Silence Breakers” who have courageously outed the alleged sexual predation of powerful men like Harvey Weinstein and Roger Ailes.

Though recent studies estimate that a staggering 86 percent of women in jail have suffered some form of sexual violence, the criminal justice system routinely fails to take this into account.

For all of the women who have had the strength to share their #MeToo stories, there remain so many women in our culture, most of them poor women of color, who lack the resources or opportunities to add their voices to the growing chorus.

“These are stories of relentless violence and forgetting,” Ms. Calvin said.

She was granted parole in 2013.

Comparing Africans (and laboratory animals) to a representative of the white upper class, he concluded, with some disdain, that all their torment combined “is utterly negligible compared with one painful night of a hysterical bluestocking.”

This week Time magazine announced that its person of the year is actually a group of people: “the Silence Breakers” who have courageously outed the alleged sexual predation of powerful men like Harvey Weinstein and Roger Ailes.

Though recent studies estimate that a staggering 86 percent of women in jail have suffered some form of sexual violence, the criminal justice system routinely fails to take this into account.

An elementary school dropout and runaway born with fetal alcohol syndrome, at the age of 16 she found herself living in a Nashville motel with an older pimp called Kut Throat who drugged her, raped her repeatedly and forced her into prostitution.

This is a sign of real progress.

If ambitious, highly educated, well-compensated women at major news organizations are being harassed and assaulted with impunity, what is happening to poor and working-class black, brown and white women outside the media’s glare?

Evidence of the abuse she suffered was deemed inadmissible at her trial.

But if the cases of high-profile men in politics, media and Hollywood are the cases at which the conversation stops, we will have missed a major opportunity to examine what the very worst sexual abuse looks like — and what we might do to stop it.

Though recent studies estimate that a staggering 86 percent of women in jail have suffered some form of sexual violence, the criminal justice system routinely fails to take this into account.

Twelve years into her sentence, Ms. Kruzan received a break when Human Rights Watch brought national attention to her case, prompting the governor at the time, Arnold Schwarzenegger, to commute her sentence.

The hope is that this continuing national reckoning will lead to a culture in which women are able to flourish without shame or fear.

Fortunately, most American women cannot say #MeToo about such a horrific ordeal.

She also took money and two guns from the property before fleeing.

Perhaps that’s why, in the weeks since the accusations of vile (and possibly criminal) behavior of Harvey Weinstein altered the public consciousness, and as our understanding of sexual harassment has expanded to include all manner of merely boorish behavior, some highly influential celebrities of color — Rihanna and LeBron James among them — sought to direct our focus to the case of a 29-year-old black woman named Cyntoia Brown.

But if the cases of high-profile men in politics, media and Hollywood are the cases at which the conversation stops, we will have missed a major opportunity to examine what the very worst sexual abuse looks like — and what we might do to stop it.

Ms. Brown was tried as an adult in 2006 and given a life sentence, which she is serving in the Tennessee Prison for Women in Nashville.

This week Time magazine announced that its person of the year is actually a group of people: “the Silence Breakers” who have courageously outed the alleged sexual predation of powerful men like Harvey Weinstein and Roger Ailes.

Comparing Africans (and laboratory animals) to a representative of the white upper class, he concluded, with some disdain, that all their torment combined “is utterly negligible compared with one painful night of a hysterical bluestocking.”

The facts of Ms. Brown’s life are heart-rending.

Such abuse, Ms. Kruzan stressed, “is protected by silence.”

Without for a moment diminishing the pain and suffering — whether physical or emotional — of any woman who has now found the voice to speak out against sexism and harassment, for this moment of collective awakening to have a deeper significance, we have to address a very serious question.

(Rihanna’s initial post on Instagram alone received almost two million likes.)

Without for a moment diminishing the pain and suffering — whether physical or emotional — of any woman who has now found the voice to speak out against sexism and harassment, for this moment of collective awakening to have a deeper significance, we have to address a very serious question.

Such abuse, Ms. Kruzan stressed, “is protected by silence.”

Those who follow the issue of restorative justice have known Ms. Brown’s name for years.

Nietzsche believed the lower you ventured on the social hierarchy, the less suffering mattered.

Twelve years into her sentence, Ms. Kruzan received a break when Human Rights Watch brought national attention to her case, prompting the governor at the time, Arnold Schwarzenegger, to commute her sentence.

A jury rejected her claim of self-defense, finding her guilty of first-degree murder and aggravated robbery.

For all of the women who have had the strength to share their #MeToo stories, there remain so many women in our culture, most of them poor women of color, who lack the resources or opportunities to add their voices to the growing chorus.

Without for a moment diminishing the pain and suffering — whether physical or emotional — of any woman who has now found the voice to speak out against sexism and harassment, for this moment of collective awakening to have a deeper significance, we have to address a very serious question.

I recently spoke to Ms. Kruzan and Elizabeth Calvin of Human Rights Watch, who now collaborate to end the use of life sentences without parole for minors.

“The curve of human susceptibility to pain seems in fact to take an extraordinary and almost sudden drop as soon as one has passed the upper ten thousand or ten million of the top stratum of culture,” he wrote in “On the Genealogy of Morals.”

Though recent studies estimate that a staggering 86 percent of women in jail have suffered some form of sexual violence, the criminal justice system routinely fails to take this into account.

“Society forgets these people exist.”

Perhaps that’s why, in the weeks since the accusations of vile (and possibly criminal) behavior of Harvey Weinstein altered the public consciousness, and as our understanding of sexual harassment has expanded to include all manner of merely boorish behavior, some highly influential celebrities of color — Rihanna and LeBron James among them — sought to direct our focus to the case of a 29-year-old black woman named Cyntoia Brown.

But if the cases of high-profile men in politics, media and Hollywood are the cases at which the conversation stops, we will have missed a major opportunity to examine what the very worst sexual abuse looks like — and what we might do to stop it.

“The curve of human susceptibility to pain seems in fact to take an extraordinary and almost sudden drop as soon as one has passed the upper ten thousand or ten million of the top stratum of culture,” he wrote in “On the Genealogy of Morals.”

Perhaps that’s why, in the weeks since the accusations of vile (and possibly criminal) behavior of Harvey Weinstein altered the public consciousness, and as our understanding of sexual harassment has expanded to include all manner of merely boorish behavior, some highly influential celebrities of color — Rihanna and LeBron James among them — sought to direct our focus to the case of a 29-year-old black woman named Cyntoia Brown.

Though recent studies estimate that a staggering 86 percent of women in jail have suffered some form of sexual violence, the criminal justice system routinely fails to take this into account.

For all of the women who have had the strength to share their #MeToo stories, there remain so many women in our culture, most of them poor women of color, who lack the resources or opportunities to add their voices to the growing chorus.

Nietzsche believed the lower you ventured on the social hierarchy, the less suffering mattered.

Consider the case of Sara Kruzan.

The hope is that this continuing national reckoning will lead to a culture in which women are able to flourish without shame or fear.

An elementary school dropout and runaway born with fetal alcohol syndrome, at the age of 16 she found herself living in a Nashville motel with an older pimp called Kut Throat who drugged her, raped her repeatedly and forced her into prostitution.

Perhaps that’s why, in the weeks since the accusations of vile (and possibly criminal) behavior of Harvey Weinstein altered the public consciousness, and as our understanding of sexual harassment has expanded to include all manner of merely boorish behavior, some highly influential celebrities of color — Rihanna and LeBron James among them — sought to direct our focus to the case of a 29-year-old black woman named Cyntoia Brown.

But if the cases of high-profile men in politics, media and Hollywood are the cases at which the conversation stops, we will have missed a major opportunity to examine what the very worst sexual abuse looks like — and what we might do to stop it.