Abuse in the Music Community: An Action List for Fans
Photo by Mihai Surdu via Unsplash, 2021
The Twin Cities music scene (including the Americana community) has been rocked yet again with newly surfaced allegations of sexual assault and misconduct by local artists. It felt like deja vu; another, wider-ranging spate of allegations had occurred less than a year earlier in mid-2020. Back then, some artists were dropped from their labels (or seemingly fled the state); an album compilation by women, trans and non-binary artists raised awareness and money; and social media was ablaze with discussions about how we got here and what to do.
This time around the public reaction seemed muted; maybe we’re all worn out from the last go-round of #metoo activity, the pandemic that vaccines don’t seem to be slowing down yet, and the painful slog of trying to fix our broken law enforcement system so Black neighbors won’t be murdered anymore. Whatever the reason, as female music fans in the community, Jaclyn and I still had a visceral reaction to these new revelations, as many people probably did privately.
Neither of us pretend that we know what to say or that our ideas are the best ones out there, but we felt that as purveyors of content around music—however small/emerging our platform is—if we didn’t say something, we’d be in some way complicit. Silence and hoping it won’t happen again aren’t the answer.
I should say that the recent allegations are about acts that occurred well before last year’s Twin Cities #metoo moment, so they’re not necessarily indications that no progress has been made since last year. In a way, maybe they’re actually evidence of progress themselves, since these brave victims felt empowered to come forward after years of dealing with their trauma in private. This fantastic Star Tribune article (shared from a news aggregator site in case you don’t have a paid subscription, ha ha) came out in the middle of my pondering of how to tackle this issue, and reading it energized me and gave me hope. Nevertheless, there’s no doubt problems still exist in the music scene, and these likely aren’t the last allegations we’ll hear about musicians.
Ultimately, I think, the responsibility to do something about allegations lies with the accused and (to some extent) their collaborators and peers. In a way that can make me feel rather helpless to contribute in a positive way to the conversation and hopefully some good outcomes. So what are we as fans to do when we encounter disturbing news about artists whose music has moved us, inspired us and brought us happiness? I thought about it a lot myself and I also asked readers to submit comments, and here’s what I came up with. (Here’s a story that also has a lot of great thoughts on the matter.)
The Root of the Evil
Several reader comments brought home the fact that these problems stem from the culture of music itself, of artists taking advantage of or feeling impunity because of the power dynamics involved. “I think the hero complex with adoring fans fuels musicians’ and industry workers’ misconduct,” one person put it.
Another related problem, as another saw it: “The Minneapolis music scene still seems like a very ‘male’ space. Rock—and even Americana—still has this idea that guitars/drums/ bass/ mixing boards/booking calendars are things that boys are better at.” As they see it, this devaluation and exclusion of people who aren’t cisgender males creates a dangerous environment for everyone else, both on stage and in the audience: “Sure you’ve got issues of rockstar/fan power dynamics, but even in a tiny dive bar with three people in the audience, women don’t really belong.”
Photo by Samantha Sophia via Unsplash, 2021
Another respondent noted, “The assaults are not only from artists but concert goers. I’ve attended numerous concert events where I’ve been grabbed by people in the crowd, and it makes me really hesitant to go out to hear live music.”
So what do we do about a milieu that in some ways is toxic with entrenched attitudes that make it unfriendly to those who aren’t cis men?
1. Believe and support victims—and let it be known you do.
Especially if you are a vocal/visible fan of the accused, it can be a powerful statement to simply say you believe the victim, and support their difficult decision to come forward. You could share mental health resources—others might be watching the situation who are struggling with their own past experiences and traumas. For example, the Sexual Violence Center provides free, confidential services in the Twin Cities area, including counseling, a crisis hotline, legal advocacy and training.
Aside from responding to individual occurrences, you can contribute to national or local organizations that support victims of sexual assault. Tubman, Domestic Abuse Project, and the Aurora Center for Advocacy & Education are great sources of victim support and advocacy in the Twin Cities. Since many victims are artists or other industry workers themselves, consider donating to Dissonance, whose mission is contributing to a healthier environment in the arts community, or the Minnesota Music Coalition, which connects artists to many resources. And show your receipts! Letting your friends and social media connections know you donated to or volunteered with an organization isn’t bragging—it’s spreading information and promoting that organization. I’ve sometimes learned how I can help with various causes by seeing where other people are donating.
Photo by Philipp Wuthrich via Unsplash, 2021
2. Enjoy the music you enjoy—but hold artists accountable
One reader expressed feeling a very relatable (for me at least) cognitive dissonance with where to draw the line on enjoying music by known abusers, past and present. “Many legendary artists from the 60s and 70s have done really awful things and that’s widely known by the general public but they get a pass, yet some recent musicians are manipulative dicks when it comes to women and sex, and they are (rightfully) vilified. Why do we look past what some artists have done and hold others accountable? Is it just the timing? I have a hard time reconciling how to feel about all of it. Can you separate the artist from the art?”
As I was reading the Star Tribune article mentioned earlier, I ran across a quote that’s just about the most concise answer I’ve ever seen to the first part of this reader’s dilemma: “It’s always been this bad. The difference is, we’re holding people to a higher standard.”
As for the question of private enjoyment, the answer may be pretty straightforward: If your knowledge of the artist’s misdeeds doesn’t detract too much from your experience of their music, go ahead and listen to them. But maybe think twice about purchasing their music or tickets to shows if the proceeds will directly benefit an abuser who hasn’t attempted to own up or make amends.
However, your public behavior can be more intentionally directed toward supporting victims: For instance, not celebrating their music publicly or choosing not to play it at gatherings. And hold artists accountable, whether in public statements on social media or even in direct communication with the artist, if you’re in a position to do that. Says one reader: “I have had discussions with someone who was accused about owning up and not trying to dispute the accuser’s account of what happened.”
It’s up to each person to try and determine whether an artist is capable or worthy of rehabilitation in their eyes, but that honesty seems like a good start: “I think acknowledgement is appropriate as a start,” one reader says. Some accused artists have announced concrete steps they intend to take to mend their behavior, tackle their own mental health issues, support change in the industry and listen to what victims say they need. Hopefully these artists will share tangible proof of following through on their commitments.
3. Do your part to make the scene safe for women artists and fans.
As fans or audience members we may not always feel like we have a ton of agency in situations, but there are lots of ways you can contribute to a safer scene—just by calling out or reporting something you witness, for example, or letting a venue or artists know if there are ways they could promote safety. I was excited to learn that the MN Music Summit is offering a workshop on bystander intervention this Saturday, May 1! Registration is free, so you can bet I’ll be attending to gain new insight on how to help make music spaces safe. I hope you can make it too!
I could be wrong, but I suspect that male fans are privy to a lot more problematic behavior than women simply from other men feeling more comfortable acting out or talking about misdeeds with them. If that’s the case, it represents a huge opportunity for male fans to step up and be part of the solution by flagging words or behavior they may have gotten used to letting slide in the context of shows or other music industry activity.
There are also, I discovered, loads of efforts worldwide to make music safer, including Four 4 Consent, a U.S.-based organization that will work with venue staff to inform and equip them with ways to safeguard their space for all. If you think one of your favorite venues has a safety problem, maybe you could let them know about this org!
Photo by Jen Theodore via Unsplash, 2021
4. Support organizations working for change.
Supporting victims, holding abusers accountable, and calling out misdeeds we witness are vital components to tackling this issue, but are a reactive portion of the big picture. So much depends on insiders working to fix the problems endemic to the industry.
Some orgs are battling the problem at its source, seeking to transform the culture and prevent abuse before it happens, through education and advocacy. The Association for Electronic Music, for example, just launched their Electronic Music Inclusion Initiative. I hope to someday see country and Americana and/or Midwest music associations doing something this ambitious, and if I learn of any, I’ll share far and wide!
5. Seek out and lift up women, trans and minority artists and industry professionals.
“Maybe it’s not just about stating our intent to make a place safe from sexual assault but also safe for women and GLBT+ people to just be,” one reader told me. “Getting female performers on stage, behind the mixing board, in the head office, etc. Challenge your readers to seek out bands that don’t only look like the white male bands they’re used to following.” A great start would be the album put out by #MeTooMpls, a coalition of women and nonbinary Twin Cities artists of all genres; all proceeds go to Planned Parenthood (North Central States).
One place I’ve got my eye on is Auntie’s. Right now it’s a creative virtual venue, but maybe someday it will be a real-life Twin Cities venue created and run by women of color and dedicated to being a platform for BIPOC and women performers as well as a safe and welcoming venue for women and minority fans. I hope this venue gets off the ground, because it could become a force for good not only in the immediate practical sense but in changing that sense of the Twin Cities music scene being a boys’ club, which in turn encourages toxic male behavior.
