I decided to write this because if I don’t voice my experience, I am complacent, and I want others who have had a similar experience to feel supported and heard. Many times in my life, when wanting to talk about adverse experiences I have had with men, I have felt the fear of being called a liar, of being presumed dramatic, or of being another female voice shut down as “attention-seeking.” Me, too. I’ve feared that the way I dress would come into question on a public scale, and while I know it isn’t fair, this is the fear I live with as a woman in our society. I have seen this scenario played out many times; a woman says that she has been harassed or assaulted, and the world accuses her of “asking for it,” of “wanting it,” of “making something out of nothing.” I’ve heard both men and women make statements like this in the aftermath of such allegations. This is not just a gender-specific issue, but a societal norm. I believe that probably the only gift of Donald Trump’s Access Hollywood tape was the start of a conversation on this important and deeply painful topic. Here, I will tell a bit of my story, and how it pertains to the dance world that I love so much.

I would doubt many, if any, women reading this will not have a memory of a time when a man touched them inappropriately, made an unwanted sexual comment, or acted in some sort of predatory way towards them. I have memories of these kinds of occurrences dating back to my early childhood.

I’ll tell this story about Colby* because, for some reason, I can’t get it out of my head. Colby is not the real name of the person I refer to, but we will call him this for the purpose of concealing his identity. In truth, a similar story could be undoubtedly told about many revered male dancers. This is merely an example of the misbehavior I’ve directly experienced. What occurred was not the first or even remotely the worst incident of this nature that I had endured, as a dancer or in my life in general, and under different circumstances, I doubt I would have thought about it much beyond that evening back in August of 2017. I guess something about the context struck a nerve.

Colby had been a friend of mine for at least a couple of years. I met him at a time when he had been engaged in a long-term intimate relationship with a friend of mine, and because of this, I felt that the boundary of any potential romance between us was obvious. We had a friendly banter that I grew to enjoy, and though he would make passing flirtatious comments over the years, I saw them as playful and innocent. Colby is a Zouk instructor, and on this one particular night at a summer festival, we were discussing the topic of the abuse of power of male instructors over female students, and how certain instructors use questionable methods when teaching connection in their workshops. Colby explained his total dismay over the behavior of some of his male counterparts, and I stated my opinions on the topic too. Within a few minutes, he asked me to dance, and I accepted.

The dance started off without any issue. I remember it was a hot and humid evening and I was covered in sweat, my hair sticking to the sides of my face. At some point, he began to lead a counter-balance from behind, and I felt, very clearly, his fingers fondling my breasts. I remember feeling completely trapped, my heart sank, and I felt frozen in time. Something about being touched this way feels shameful and embarrassing like suddenly I’m not an equal, known and respected, but merely prey assumed too meek to speak out; an easy target. It enrages me, as I sit here. It reminded me of the time when my 250-lb roommate pinned me down against his bed and forced himself on top of me; another man that I had trusted and called a friend. I finished the dance, feeling shocked and violated, and I have not danced with Colby since. Within a day of this event, I told a friend about what had happened, and the inspiration for this article was born.

Perhaps some of you reading this are thinking “…really? He touched her breasts and she says she felt violated?” I didn’t mention how this made me feel to Colby because I knew that would likely be his reaction. I knew he would say “oh, it was just a mistake, these things happen.” I have accidentally grazed over (or in some cases even outright knocked) the genitals of men while dancing. Mistakes happen. Friends of mine, both male and female, gay and straight, have accidentally touched all of my bathing suit areas at one point or another while dancing, and I haven’t felt violated at these times. The kind of unwanted touch that I refer to has an intention behind it, and this can be felt.

I should also point out that I have been led in counter-balance by many different leads and no one else has done this – not one other time. I can confidently say that it is not necessary to fondle someone’s breasts in order to complete this movement.

Fast-forward to two festivals later (two that both Colby and I had attended). I successfully evaded any significant interaction with him at the one previous. He noted this at our most recent meeting. Colby initiated a hug, which I returned, though trying to keep my breasts off of his body. He noted, loudly, that my hug was not substantive enough. At the time, I shrugged it off. But, let me be clear: no one owes anyone physical touch. If I didn’t want to hug him at all, that is my right, and having the audacity to tell a woman that she didn’t give enough of her body in a hug plainly displays his ignorance.

I have thought long and hard on these two events, and about Colby, and what all of this means. I did not write this to out anyone, or belittle anyone else’s experience. I am sure that many people reading this are wondering why, considering all of the gross behavior by men that I have likely endured in my life, I have chosen to write about this particular set of events. If you are a female dancer and thinking about how often men have forced their erections onto your leg while dancing, I am with you. This has happened to me many more times than I would ever like to talk about. I have been pinched, grabbed and rubbed in all kinds of ways by strange men while at dance events or in clubs. This is a normal kind of occurrence in my life, and while I don’t enjoy these experiences, I see them as quite different than what happened with Colby.

I see what happened with Colby as different and more insulting for a variety of reasons:
1) Colby is someone I have known for some time and had grown to trust;
2) Colby had, minutes before groping me, gone off about the inappropriate behavior of other male instructors and the abuse of power he was so offended by; and
3) Colby was doing exactly what he had just explained he had an issue with others doing: using his position as a trusted person, especially as an instructor, to grope me.

Why have I stayed silent so long? Why have I not privately addressed him? I believe that some of the reasons I suggested earlier explain this. Perhaps he will read this and know it is him that I am talking about. Perhaps after writing this, I will begin a conversation with him, and maybe then he will see that he needs to change his behavior. I doubt that I could be the only one that he has hurt. When this kind of behavior happens somewhere sacred, like in the Zouk scene, in the context of this beautiful dance and movement, and especially by the hands of people like the instructors, it does hurt. I fear and believe that too often, those admired in our dance world for their technique and dedication are given a pedestal to stand on and from which some (and this is certainly not to say all or even most) men, unfortunately, do take advantage.

I want anyone reading this and thinking this sounds familiar to know that you are not alone, and now is the time to take a stand against this behavior. It is with our voices together that we can create positive change. This dance community is filled with so much love and good connections; it’s about time we begin to fight against predatory behavior that is all too common in this world of ours, even when it is committed by those we have called friends or mentors.