Janice Combs’ rejection of the Netflix docuseries Sean Combs: The Reckoning as “lies” and “fake narratives,” expressed something more complicated than simple denial. Families often respond defensively when someone they love is accused of serious harm. The instinct to protect a public figure’s reputation is familiar in American culture, where legacy frequently matters more than confronting difficult truths. But defensive storytelling, whether from families, fans, or institutions, does not change the impact of harm, nor does it help us understand how cycles of violence take shape or how they might finally end.
I write from years of clinical work with adolescents and adults shaped by early adversity. Trauma-exposed children toggle between hypervigilance and emotional shutdown because their developing brains adapt to instability. Over time, those adaptations can become personality traits: mistrust, emotional distance, and rigid control. Research consistently shows that childhood trauma alters core regulatory systems.
One study byCross, Fani, Powers, and Bradley (2017) found that early adversity heightens stress reactivity and impairs the brain circuits responsible for emotional modulation. More recently, Zhang, Xu, Funkhouser, Monteleone, and Yu (2024) demonstrated that early trauma influences adult attachment patterns and shapes how individuals respond to perceived threats or loss of control. These findings do not suggest that trauma determines destiny, but they show that early experiences remain biologically and psychologically active long after childhood ends.
Still, it is crucial to acknowledge what this science does not say. Trauma does not turn people into abusers. Most individuals who experience childhood adversity do not go on to cause harm; many display extraordinary resilience, especially when provided with consistent support and community safety. The presence of trauma in someone’s history offers context, not justification. Compassion for the child someone once was, cannot erase accountability for the adult they have become.
Unfortunately, our public narratives often collapse these distinctions. When a powerful figure faces allegations of gender-based violence or coercion, trauma is sometimes deployed to excuse behavior rather than explain it. This misuse of trauma language distorts both psychology and ethics. Understanding a person’s developmental history can help us trace the roots of harmful behavior, but it cannot absolve them of responsibility. In fact, trauma science deepens our obligation to intervene early and set boundaries that prevent cycles of harm from repeating across families and communities.
When the legal system struggles to hold powerful individuals accountable, cultural arenas, journalism, documentaries, and public testimony become essential tools for truth-telling. This is not because the media should act as a substitute for due process, but because it can illuminate patterns that courts often fail to capture: controlling behavior, relational coercion, and long-term intimidation. These forms of harm frequently fall through the cracks of traditional prosecution. Without public scrutiny, they may never be named at all.
A responsible path forward requires several shifts. First, we must treat early trauma as relevant to adult behavior without falling into the trap of fatalism. Trauma shapes emotional development, but it does not negate agency. Second, we need to abandon narratives that use trauma as a shield against accountability. Acknowledging someone’s history can deepen empathy, but it cannot override the safety, dignity, and justice owed to those they hurt. Third, we need systems that draw from both restorative and protective principles: early trauma screening for children, trauma-informed education, community-based supports for families, and legal frameworks that actually respond to the realities of gender-based harm. Accountability should not depend solely on incarceration; it should include prevention, transparency, rehabilitation, and meaningful protections for survivors.
Finally, we must be honest about our cultural pattern of defending the powerful at the expense of the vulnerable. Denial, whether from families who feel protective, fans who feel loyal, or institutions that feel complicit, does not alter the truth. It simply delays the possibility of repair.
Trauma can help us understand how harmful behavior develops, but it cannot excuse what people choose to do. Moving forward requires building systems that take trauma seriously and hold people accountable for the harm they cause. It means rejecting public narratives that minimize abuse, refusing to protect powerful individuals at the expense of those they hurt, and insisting on transparency even when it challenges long-held loyalties. If we want a safer culture, we must name harm clearly, support those who experience it, and stop treating accountability as optional.
Dilice Robertson is a clinical associate professor at the Rory Meyers School of Nursing at New York University and a public voices fellow with The OpEd Project.