Back to some of the initial questions this started out with. Namely, what to do with an instance of abuse in the frame of a larger community. Or rather, a friend of mine (now, a woman I'd consider a close friend of mine) is living and working in close proximity with an ex dom who abused her, and watching as he pursues other women, and what exactly do we do with that kind of complicated thing?
There's a great Pervocracy post on the legalities of this question, and I don't exactly want to get into those. I think important and relevant, but it's just not what I'm focusing on right now. So, read Cliff's thoughts about it if you like, she's amazing, as per usual.
The first reaction that I ever have to abuse, and abuse in communal situations, is that yes, of course, you should speak up about what happened to you. And at the end of this post, that's still going to be my perspective, I think. It's just a lot, a lot more complicated than that.
Talking to Hannah about what to do at the festival, and what to do in her local scene, she said something that hit me really hard, along the lines of: "I don't want to out him here, or to talk about the things he did to my friends here, because I feel like this is the place [the festival] where he comes to do the good he does in the world."
And I completely understand that, but I don't think it's enough. I hate that the questions of "what is enough," even comes up, because at the end of the day, I don't think that's the right question to ask. When a person does a bad thing, many, many times over, it doesn't exist on the side of some magical scale, one that can be balanced out by doing good. I also know that bad people do good things sometimes. I suppose, for me, it brings up the question of how many bad things, and how many bad instances of abuse, make a person "a bad person." Even typing the question, I sort of know the answer already: really, just the one. And it's not the one you think.
It comes down to a place of judgment. Faced with letting someone know about instances of abuse, like Hannah is faced with at the moment, you start to question your own judgement. Not the judgement you have of that person (because that's pretty clear for her, and it would be for me, I think), but how to use that judgement. Whether that judgement is enough to go out into the world and say "Hey, guess what, you need to know something about this guy." And again, it's a question that sort of answers itself.
There are, I know, two sides to every story. That said, if that story is anywhere near a reasonable misunderstanding, or an isolated instance of abuse, hearing both sides of it isn't going to be a problem for anyone. Meaning, the question of "should I tell?" holds in it the assumption that the other person, the abusing person, somehow isn't telling. And that's the one instance. The attitude someone takes towards their actions: this is what, for me, tells me their character, far more than their actions standing alone.*
*In some cases. Obviously, I couldn't give a fuck about what really abusive people think about their abuse. But I'm trying to wade into the middle ground here, where it's not so clear cut.
Because imagine a situation, the situation that always comes up in these debates, in which there's a dispute about whether or not a situation was abusive.* Partner A claims that they were mistreated; Partner B counters that Partner A was not, that Partner B was not abusive. What I think a lot of people miss here, and what I think is the catching-all for the accused-but-not-actually-guilty abusers, is the treatment of this conversation, both between the partners and in the community. Meaning, if there was an instance that was questionable, would the parties involved not talk about it? If no harm was meant, if there was simply a miscommunication, wouldn't it be resolved, even if it ended the relationship, as opposed to driving a divisive stake, and splitting a communities into factioned allegiances? Wouldn't it be at least an amiable, if not maybe tense and hurt and guilty, admittance by both parties that something, whatever that something was, did, in fact, happen?
*Note: a lot of the time, the BDSM community talks about dominants abusing submissives. Based on the nature of the game, I understand this. But it can definitely go both ways, so I'm trying to stay away from a language that assumes one way or the other.
Basically, what I'm saying is: an abuser who needs the abused party not to talk about it is clearly an abuser, no matter what they say. Were they not, there would be an explanation, I think. A conversation with new partners that said something like "Well, yes, we used to play together. This is what happened. These are the mistakes I made, and these are the mistakes my then-partner made. We couldn't come a resolution about it, and aren't together any longer. Here's what I learned from it." Etc.
What paints an abuser most clearly, I think, is the denial of past instances. The proof of the existence of abuse made obvious in the need to shroud it in some kind of secrecy. Which is why, I think, speaking up about abuse is never a question, because once you're in a place where the abuser themselves won't, it's clearly an instance where it needs to happen.
So. That's my happy logical conclusion. And I wish that it were ever that cut and dry. Sometimes, maybe, sometimes it is. But know there are more complex situations, and I know people are not emotionless robots of logic and reason. I also know false accusations exist. I don't really know what to do about those. I think that if we had a culture, in kink or anywhere else, that offered women (and yes, that's gender essentialist and stereotypical, but I'm going with statistics for ease of language, here) a better avenue for voicing their frustrations, and an equal footing from which to deal with this sort of thing, false accusations would go down a whole lot. But I don't have any answers.
In terms of the community, and what to do in a larger framework, I don't really think there's any answer but talk. Talk talk talk. Talk about it with your friends when you need support. Talk about it in a non-escalating, non-gossiping way. Talk about women who might encounter this man in the future, who might fall for what you fell for. Approach them, and say "Hey, I don't mean to butt into your business, and I recognize that you're an autonomous, adult being who is free to make their own choices. But I just wanted to offer a thought about that guy who's been flirting with you. I've had some bad experiences with him. Really bad, actually. It may be that that's not the case with you, and I'm not trying to smear his name. He may have changed, and things may absolutely be different with the two of you. But I wish some of the women he'd hurt before me had let me know, so I'm trying to pass it forward."
I really, really don't see anything wrong with that. Because say that new woman, the new partner, the warned one, then takes that information to her possible-flirting-partner. If everything was hunky dory, or if he's grown a bunch since then, or whatever, then he can tell her that. They can talk about it in an open and honest way. If he hasn't, then... well, then I think it sort of proves it's own point, right?
I just don't see another way to be a self-governing community. I don't see another way to keep the scene safer. Reputation can be a strange thing, full of rumor mill and misinformation. But it can also be a great thing, full of recommendations and positive experiences. I don't think having a reputation is a bad thing. I think that hiding what your reputation might be... well, if it might be so terrible, that's all I needed to know.
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