Many male event hosts don’t “get” abuse, and I love that for them.*

That headline probably sounds like I’m being sardonic.

I’m not.

Genuinely: I love that so many male venue owners and event hosts just… have no concept of how certain things are abusive and what that means. This isn’t sarcasm or putting them down; it’s a realization that their lack of understanding stems from never experiencing such abuse themselves (unlike the many men who silently suffer–this is not to them.) I love that they are so far removed from intimate harm that they often don’t consider reports of abusive behavior to represent an immediate threat. I love that they haven’t had to go through these things, that they haven’t had close friends go through these things.

But I grew up female in America. So I have.

A lot of things have changed in my ten years in the scene, but this is something that hasn’t. All the time, friends and loved ones go to event hosts to warn them that one of their attendees or vendors or instructors has done and could continue to do serious damage to others — and all the time, they hear back something along the lines of “I know him, and he’s never shown any behaviors like that,” or “Let me know if you hear about anyone else with your experience,” or “Do you have any witnesses or proof?” Some even go as far as saying, “I’m sorry that happened to you, but that doesn’t make him a threat.”

I love it for them that they have no understanding of how private, insidious, and intermittent abuse can be, that they don’t grasp how abusers can present themselves as kind and caring in person, despite having said or done horrible things hours before.

I love it for them that they can think people who abuse and assault and rape would leave behind tangible evidence.

I love it for them that they get to view “stealthing” (the act of removing or not using a condom someone else asked for) as something that may just occur spontaneously because a night got particularly spicy, rather than recognizing it as an act that more and more, in certain states, could literally lead to the victim’s death.

I love it for them that they get to assume all abusers would mistreat every partner they have. That their life experiences leave them blissfully unaware of the countless reasons why a current partner may deny their significant other’s capability of such acts, or why they may speak ill of their partner’s exes. That they can still believe that a so-called “past abuser” seamlessly transitioning into a picture-perfect new relationship absolves them of past misconduct.

But I don’t love it for the rest of us.

For the attendees who may well meet and be charmed by these individuals at such venues, only to be harmed later on.

For the potential students or fans who perceive a “respected” venue hosting someone as an endorsement of that person’s safety, only to suffer for it in the future.

For the victims who strive to create safer parties, vending rooms, conventions, only to be subjected to unrealistic expectations of being a more perfect victim.

And no. I’ll say it now. Not all men. Not all male event hosts do this; some are excellent and curate safe and engaging spaces. Not all event hosts who do this are male, and I’ll go as far as to say that the event hosts I know of who have done this most egregiously are not.

But the majority of those who do it—in my experience—are.

If this is you—if you ever have said anything like “I spoke to his partner and they haven’t had that experience” or “I just can’t ban him without proof” or the examples above, even if you have said it nicely–I want you to consider what kind of space you’re actually trying to create.

I want you to ask yourself if the at max 1 in 10 risk* of banning someone who is actually safe outweighs the 9 in 10 risk you could grant abusers more access to more potential victims.

And if it does, then say to the person who approached you, “I’m sorry, but I can’t let the 90%+ chance this happened to you keep me from the ticket sale/the fact I enjoy their company/having the extra body filling the space.”

If you aren’t willing to say that out loud?
Think really hard about why that is.

And feel grateful for your life. I want you to know that I genuinely love that you don’t “get” this. May you grow to understand it. May that understanding never have to be from you experiencing what those victims have yourself.



*Most studies report the chance of false accusations being well under 1 in 10; I’ve gone with the research’s most generous number for the sake of those who would argue it could be higher than the average.