When the victim becomes the victim again: Why this must change.
Imagine enduring an unimaginable trauma—abuse, harassment, or violence—only to find yourself facing even more pain when you seek help. Instead of support and compassion, you’re met with judgment and doubt. Instead of validation, you’re questioned, scrutinized, or even pitied in ways that diminish your strength. For many victims, the suffering doesn’t end with the crime itself. They are forced to endure what is known as secondary victimization—the distressing experience of being blamed, disbelieved, or reduced to their trauma when they seek justice or support.
Consider a woman who has been raped. When she steps forward to report her trauma, the questions she faces are often not about the crime but about her actions: “What were you wearing?” or “Were you drinking that night?” These questions, rather than addressing the violence she endured, dissect her choices, as though she somehow invited the brutality. Similarly, a woman being stalked for months may be told, “Maybe you were leading him on,” or “Are you sure it’s not all in your head?” Such remarks shift the focus from the criminal’s behaviour to the victim’s supposed missteps, forcing her to justify her fear and pain. This mindset doesn’t just invalidate her experience—it amplifies her trauma.
Now think about a child trafficking survivor who escapes their captor. Instead of being met with relief and support, they might be asked, “Why didn’t you run away sooner?” or “How did you let yourself get into that situation?” These questions imply that the survivor should have somehow prevented their own exploitation—as if the crime committed against them was their responsibility. Families mourning the murder of a loved one may hear whispers of, “Were they involved in something shady?” or “Maybe they were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Hate crime survivors often endure similar treatment, being told things like, “Maybe you shouldn’t have been so outspoken about who you are.” These responses not only fail to support the victim but also reinforce harmful stereotypes and societal biases.
Even when outright blame is avoided, victims are frequently burdened by pity. A woman who has been raped might hear, “I can’t imagine how broken you must feel,” as though her identity is now solely defined by her trauma. A survivor of a terrorist attack may be told, “You’re lucky to even be alive,” a statement that, while well-meaning, dismisses the profound depth of their pain and loss. Pity, though it may seem compassionate, strips survivors of agency. It frames them as weak or fragile rather than recognizing their resilience and strength. This cycle of blame, doubt, and pity reveals a disturbing truth about how society treats victims of severe crimes: instead of offering empathy and justice, we interrogate their choices, question their credibility, and reduce them to their suffering.
This misplaced scrutiny doesn’t just harm victims—it also enables criminals. When society focuses on the victim’s behaviour instead of the offender’s actions, it creates a culture where perpetrators believe they can deflect blame and avoid consequences. Secondary victimization silences survivors, making them afraid to speak out, afraid to seek help, and afraid to reclaim their lives. It also sends the wrong message to potential offenders: that accountability can be avoided by shifting focus away from the crime itself. The only way to deter crime is to ensure that the spotlight remains firmly on the perpetrators—their motives, their actions, and the systems that allow them to operate without fear of punishment.
No law, no matter how well-written or enforced, can deliver complete justice until society changes its mindset and behavior. Legal reforms and harsher penalties for offenders are critical, but they lose their power if cultural attitudes continue to blame, shame, or pity victims instead of empowering them. A meaningful cultural shift is needed—one that fosters empathy, challenges victim-blaming narratives, and emphasizes the strength and resilience of survivors rather than defining them by their suffering. Schools must teach young people about consent, respect, and the dynamics of abuse. Public awareness campaigns must challenge harmful myths, such as the idea that victims are complicit in their pain or that they should have “done more” to prevent the crime.
At the heart of this transformation lies empathy. Society must move away from passive pity and adopt active allyship, where individuals stand with survivors, listen without judgment, and advocate for their rights. Fostering empathy doesn’t just support victims—it creates a culture where abuse, violence, and harassment are unequivocally condemned. When survivors feel seen, supported, and empowered, they are more likely to come forward, and offenders are less likely to believe they can act with impunity.
By focusing on the criminal and their actions, we can ensure that justice is served and survivors are treated with the dignity they deserve. It’s time to stop victimizing the victim. Instead, we must build a society where survivors feel safe, respected, and empowered, and where perpetrators face the full weight of accountability. Only then can we create a world where justice is not just a legal outcome but a social reality.
* Khushbu Jain is a practicing advocate in the Supreme Court and founding partner of the law firm, Ark Legal.