You Can’t Protect Children…

If you are protecting him.

Hey Rebels— Pixie here.

This one’s not easy to write. Not because the information is hard to find—it’s everywhere. It’s not even hard to believe—at least not if you’ve been paying attention for the last thirty years. What’s hard is knowing how many people are still looking the other way. People who proudly say they want to protect kids, protect women, protect truth—but then throw all of that out the window the minute it doesn’t fit their party or their favorite politician. So I’m writing this for the people who keep pretending they don’t know. For the people claiming moral high ground while supporting a man whose record is paved in lawsuits, sworn statements, court findings, and sickening familiarity with some of the worst predators in modern history.

Let’s talk about Donald specifically, though we know many others are involved. I see you Bill Clinton.

And let’s keep it linear. Just facts.

In 1995, Maria Farmer was a 26-year-old art student working at Jeffrey Epstein’s Manhattan townhouse. She says Trump walked in, stared at her legs, and made her feel like she was being looked at “as if [she] were a teenage girl.” She was already alarmed by Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell’s behavior, and that moment with Trump stuck with her. She reported it to the FBI in 1996 and again in 2006. In 2025, she filed a lawsuit against the FBI for ignoring her testimony—testimony that included naming Donald twice. She was the very first person to go on the record against Epstein. And she told them everything. They did nothing.

Around the same time—late 1980s, early ’90s—Trump was throwing parties with Epstein. According to Jack O’Donnell, who ran Trump Plaza in Atlantic City, Trump once showed up at the casino with Epstein and three young women who weren’t old enough to be on the floor. One was 19, and casino investigators flagged it. Trump was warned, not fined. But the question isn’t just about the casino law. It’s about the pattern. The public record is full of these stories. Private parties. Modeling gigs. Girls being brought in under fake promises. Familiar names repeating like a broken alarm clock.

In 1997, Amy Dorris says Trump shoved his tongue down her throat outside the U.S. Open. In 2005, he was caught on tape bragging that he could “grab women by the pussy” because he was famous. That same year, Natasha Stoynoff says he cornered her at Mar-a-Lago. Rachel Crooks says he kissed her without consent in Trump Tower. Summer Zervos, a former contestant on The Apprentice, said he groped her in a Beverly Hills hotel. Jill Harth says he tried to force himself on her in his daughter’s bedroom.

There are more. At least 26 named women. A civil court found him liable for sexual abuse in the case brought by E. Jean Carroll. A second trial awarded her $83 million for defamation. This is not rumor. It’s not innuendo. These are court documents, depositions, testimony, and in one case—jury findings.

And still, some people look you in the eye and say they care about protecting kids.

Which brings us to the most chilling part of the timeline. In 2016, a woman filed a lawsuit under the name Katie Johnson, alleging that Trump raped her when she was 13. She dropped the suit, citing death threats. Around the same time, another Jane Doe alleged the same—rape at Epstein’s home, while underage. These cases were withdrawn. But their existence is a matter of public record. These women came forward, named names, and were either buried or bullied into silence. And if you know anything about how survivors are treated in this country—especially when their abuser has power—you know that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.

Still not enough?

Trump has admitted to walking into dressing rooms at his own beauty pageants, where teenage contestants were changing. He said it himself: “I’m allowed to go in.” Multiple contestants from Miss Teen USA said he did exactly that. Miss Utah 1997. Miss Vermont Teen USA. Miss New Mexico. Too many for coincidence.

And let’s not forget his friendship with Jeffrey Epstein. Trump called him a “terrific guy” and said, “He likes beautiful women as much as I do, many of them on the younger side.” That’s not a misquote. It’s in New York Magazine, 2002. He only started denying the friendship once Epstein became a liability. But their names appear together over and over again—in logs, in court cases, in the testimony of survivors.

This is also the same man who, on national television, said that if Ivanka weren’t his daughter, “perhaps I’d be dating her.” The same man who told Howard Stern it was okay to call his daughter a “piece of ass.” Who made repeated comments about her body—on radio, on TV, in interviews—like a man who forgot he was talking about his child. It’s not just disturbing—it’s a glimpse into how he sees women: as trophies, accessories, and property. That view didn’t just magically stop at the line of consent. It never does.

And how did he meet the women he married? Models. Pageants. Power dynamics. Melania was 28. He was 52. She met him at a party while he was still married. The same story, recycled. It’s always a much younger woman. Always someone he can control. The way he speaks about women—his own wives included—is transactional. Obsessive about looks. Disposable when they age. Nothing about his history shows love or respect for women. It shows dominance, possession, and ego.

So here’s the deal.

If you’ve spent the last year screaming about grooming, about trafficking, about “the children”—but you still support Donald Trump, you’re not protecting kids. You’re protecting a man who has built his life on the backs of women, some of them underage. You’re choosing denial over reality. And you don’t get to do that without being called out.

And before you say he’s a “man of God”—let’s be real. Trump is not a man of faith. He doesn’t live it, doesn’t speak it, doesn’t even understand it. He once said he’s never asked God for forgiveness because he’s never needed to. He holds a Bible like it’s foreign to him, like it might catch fire in his hands. And brands them to make a buck. He uses Christianity the way he uses everything else—transactionally. As a tool. Real faith is not cruelty. It’s also not idolizing a man who mocks the vulnerable, lies without shame, and abuses power every chance he gets. If your faith somehow makes room for that, it’s not Christianity. It’s cosplay.

This isn’t new. This isn’t hidden. This isn’t left-wing conspiracy. This is a pattern that spans decades. It’s confirmed in lawsuits, depositions, interviews, books, transcripts, flight logs, photographs, and audio tapes.

And if your instinct is still to defend him, you should ask yourself why.

Believe the women. Believe the children.

We see it. We say it.