When the Predator Doesn’t Fit the Profile: The Gender Double Standard in Sexual Assault Cases
Let’s have a real conversation — one that’s long overdue and too often dismissed because it makes people uncomfortable.
Sexual assault is a crime. It is a violation of a person’s body, trust, and humanity. And yet, how we treat that crime seems to depend not just on what happened, but who did it.
When a man is accused of sexual assault, the court of public opinion wastes no time handing down a verdict. Headlines explode, careers are destroyed, and institutions scramble to distance themselves. Rightfully, if the evidence is there, consequences should follow. But when a woman stands accused of the same crime, suddenly, the tone shifts. The urgency vanishes. The silence becomes deafening.
Take the case of Sedona Prince. If you’re not familiar, she’s a standout in women’s college basketball with WNBA potential. Prince has been accused — more than once — of physical and sexual abuse by former partners. These aren’t anonymous whispers; these are on-the-record, documented allegations. And yet, what’s the institutional response? Business as usual.
TCU, her current team, announced her position “remains intact” while they review the allegations. Meanwhile, Prince continues to play and promote her brand, largely untouched by the scandal. Now flip that scenario. Imagine a male athlete facing similar accusations — two exes, detailed testimonies, clear evidence. You think his coach would be making sure his “status remained intact”? Not a chance.
There is a cultural disconnect here. Society struggles to see women as perpetrators of sexual violence. We’re taught to believe women can’t be that kind of violent. That belief is not just outdated, it’s dangerous. Men who survive abuse by women often stay silent. Why? Because they know they won’t be believed. They know jokes will be made. They know their pain will be minimized. And the abuser? She often gets a pass.
Let me take this a step further and share something deeply personal. My wife’s publishing company, Million Dollar Pen, Ink., has published several bestselling books — including my own — but none more unforgettable than I Walked On My Own Grave by Ramone Sosa. If you’ve never heard his story, let me give you the short version: Ramone is a boxer-turned-businessman who faked his own death to expose a murder-for-hire plot orchestrated by his own wife. Let that sink in.
We’re talking about a man who posed in a dug grave, staged photos with the cooperation of law enforcement, and helped capture his would-be killer on tape. The evidence was ironclad — recorded video, a confession, everything. And still, in my opinion, the system was kind to her. Why? As Ramone has said himself in interviews featured on ESPN E:60, CBS 48 Hours, Daily Mail TV, CNN, Fuji TV, Univision, Telemundo, and Inside Edition — she’s beautiful. And that, I believe, played a significant role in how the jury saw her.
I’ve seen this firsthand. When I worked as a guard on Texas Death Row, I was amazed by how polite many of the inmates were. Almost disturbingly kind. Then it hit me: that kindness might be their last line of defense. When your fate rests in the hands of others, how you’re perceived can mean the difference between life and death.
That’s the point. Perception. Our justice system isn’t just built on facts — it’s deeply influenced by image, gender, race, and bias. And let me be clear: this is not about comparing trauma. This is not “whataboutism.” This is about consistency. Justice doesn’t work if it’s conditional. Survivors don’t heal when their stories are filtered through bias.
If we truly believe in equity, in justice, in accountability — then gender can’t be a shield. A predator is a predator, regardless of the packaging. I’m calling on the institutions, the media, and yes, the public — to do better. To look at facts, not filters. To protect victims, not reputations. And to stop pretending that gender determines guilt or innocence.
Because when we stay silent about female-perpetrated abuse, we don’t just fail the victims — we fail the culture.
