Why Do We Ask What She was Wearing?

My name is Laila Risgallah Wahba. And I need to ask you something.

Not a comfortable question. Not the kind of question you can answer quickly and move on from. I need you to sit with it — really sit with it — the way you would sit with something that troubles your conscience long after the conversation is over.

Here it is: When a survivor of sexual assault finds the courage to speak, what is the first thing we ask them?

Not "Are you okay?" Not "What do you need?" Not "How can I help you through this?"

We ask what they were wearing.

I want you to think about what that question actually does to a person. What it implies. What it quietly demands of someone who has already survived the most violating experience of their life. It asks them to justify being human. It places them — not their attacker — on trial.

And I wonder: do we even realize we are doing it?

A Standard We Apply to No One Else

When someone's car is stolen, nobody asks what kind of parking spot it was in. When a house is burglarized, nobody asks whether the owners had a habit of leaving the lights on. When an elderly woman is mugged on the street, nobody questions whether she looked too rich.

But let a woman be assaulted, and suddenly everything about her becomes evidence. Her clothing. Her history. Her decision to be somewhere, to trust someone, to simply exist in the world — all of it gets examined. All of it gets turned against her.

I think about how devastating that is. Not just for the survivor in that room, in that moment — but for every other survivor watching. Because here is what we are really saying when we ask the wrong question: Your story will be handled the same way. Stay silent. We have already decided.

We hand them their silence. And we call it justice.

The Question We Should Actually Be Asking

The question has never been "What was she wearing?" The question — the only question that matters — is: Why did he choose to hurt her?

Because that is what sexual violence is. A choice. Not an accident. Not a misunderstanding. Not a momentary weakness triggered by a hemline or a smile or the hour of the night. A deliberate decision by one person to violate another.

The outfit did not make that decision. The location did not make that decision. The time of night did not make that decision.

He made that decision.

And until we are willing to say that clearly — out loud, without hedging, without redirecting the conversation back to the victim — we will keep building a world that protects the wrong person.

Education Is Where It Begins

NOT GUILTY was built on the belief that education changes everything. That when we teach people — children, adults, bystanders, whole communities — to see abuse clearly, to name it honestly, and to refuse the habit of victim-blaming, we begin to build a world where survivors are believed.

That world does not build itself.

It takes resources. It takes people willing to invest in education, in advocacy, in the kind of survivor support that makes change real and lasting — not just a conversation we have once and forget.

Every donation to NOT GUILTY goes toward dismantling the culture that asks the wrong questions. And toward building a community that, when a survivor finally finds the courage to speak, meets them with belief instead of interrogation.

It is never the victim's fault. It never was.

Donate today at notguiltyinc.givingfuel.com. Help us ask better questions — and build a world worthy of the answers.