The following article contains stories submitted to The Cheetah Press from two women speaking out on their experiences in the music industry with men from it who abused the power they have to hurt young girls.
TW: Grooming, sexual abuse, predatory behavior, abuse.
Keep in mind — these are just two stories, but there’s a tragically countless amount of them out there. The music industry has never been a safe space for women — sexism & misogyny run rampant, as well as pedophilia. Historically, men in music have long abused the power imbalance they had over their young female fans & coworkers for their own pleasure and it’s wrong. It’s sadly still happening now, and if you take away anything from these stories, I hope it enrages you & moves you to want to make things better, to dismantle the culture that gives power to men in music that allows them to think they can act in despicable ways.
Written by Sophie White, Blackpool, UK. @sophiegracewhite / @sophieinthestudio
When I was fourteen, I made the decision to take my hobby of photography seriously. I was particularly interested in Music Photography as I desperately, like most teenagers, used music to find my feet in a new world of boys, boobs, and blossoming.
The world of music photography was alien to me in my sleepy town and so I trawled message boards for the best ways to get into the scene. At the time, I didn’t realize that all the tips I was taking in were written for males by males. None of their ways to get ahead would prove fruitful for a young girl entering the man’s world that is live music.
Blindly determined, I started going to local gigs and making friends with the merch guy, who usually also happened to double as the tour manager. From there, I would befriend bands of men twice my age with no thought that their interest in me as a fourteen year old girl with an Argos catalogue starter camera could be anything other than for my sheer talent in the making. Sigh.
Most of my encounters were friendly and nothing untoward, I suspect to most I was just a friendly face that would pop up every now and again and nothing more. In late 2011, when I was just about to turn fifteen I was DM’ed on twitter by a bass player from a band I’d never heard of. He had seen my photographs from a mutual friends gig. I checked out his profile and we legitimately had friends in common. I never thought to ask any of those friends about him or to disclose to them when things got weird if that was normal.
We began talking frequently and very quickly it became sexual. If I refused to ‘play the game’ he would get angry and make me feel bad about myself. It never occurred to me that he had ever clicked on my page to push an agenda. He was friendly, kind and probably the first male who had ever complimented me. I fed off of his interest in me. It was all new, I felt grown up. I wasn’t comfortable with the ‘dick pics’ but I didn’t want to lose his friendship so I allowed it to continue. He was 30 years old.
This predatory relationship would continue for at least a year. He would keep sending me free tickets to gigs, offering to pay my train in return for me sleeping with him. I never went. I knew in my heart it was wrong and so always had an excuse not to go. Sometimes, the excuse would be “I have too much homework” or something relating to my age. This only seemed to spur him on. Eventually, it became too much and I, at sixteen, ended the conversation by blocking him on every account possible with no explanation. I was tired of the constant messaging and of him asking more and more of me and the vicious messages and calls when I didn’t give in. Exhausted, I turned off and decided never to speak of it to anyone.
When I was 18, I received a lengthy message from a woman claiming to be his girlfriend of several years. She had found pictures and messages he had saved of me and hurled abuse at me for “cheating” with her 33 year old partner. I was humiliated and angry. It was something I had erased from my mind and what exactly was it that I’d done? I was confused and ashamed. Only when replying to her did I realize that I was a kid. A kid. He was an adult. I had been groomed.
It hit me like a tonne of bricks. I felt guilty, embarrassed and stupid. It never occurred to me that there was a blatant imbalance of power, that the messages were by all accounts illegal and predatory nature. I dread to think what would’ve happened if I had gone to a gig to see him. I believed he cared for me. It is something that affected my relationships going forward. I’m never quite sure of where I stand with men. I never quite believe any male could be interested in me. They must have an ulterior motive. Even as friends, if I know there is power between us I’m not sure what to relinquish and what to protect about myself. The whole awakening of how I’d been groomed and sexually manipulated and harassed would catalyze a chain of unhealthy relationships & self-sabotaging events that I am still recovering from today at twenty-four.
This is just one story that wouldn’t even warrant a chapter in the book I could write on music industry predators. What I’ve seen, experienced and ran from is by no means extraordinary. It pains me that I have to hold myself back from progressing in my career, as my right, because I refuse to work and collude with predators. But that’s the industry for you.
As a female music photographer, I have had to fight my way onto the scene. I have had to walk away from payment I was entitled to because promoters didn’t want to hear the band they’d booked were sexually harassing me or fans. I’ve quit tours before even getting to the first gig. It has been something I have proudly stood against but has dogged my personal life and career. Having a personal connection to the predatory behavior of men in music has helped me spot and stop it when I’ve seen it on shoots but it has also cost me great opportunities for being outspoken and refusing to bite my tongue and “let them have their fun”. I have been told to be grateful for their interest in me. I’ve been told that as a woman, working on her own, I should expect it. If only I’d keep my mouth shut I could really go far. If only men didn’t harass women. What a concept.
Written by Anonymous.
My story, I can't even mention names, it's just shamefully embarrassing.
The moment when the guy dismisses my concerns when I finally have the spine to speak out. He deflects it onto my past abusers, then his girlfriend gaslights me in an peacemaker type way, and then they both say that it was just sex. But I was there too! He says go ahead and share my story. She says it's not fair if I do. Then they cover it in a light veil of “God Bless you's,” that's supposed to make things nice and alright. Maybe they really did mean it. I don't know or trust them to take it for anything other than face value.
I got a little taste of what it feels like to have that backlash softly whip you in place. I think of what blows would I take if I had the audacity to go to court. Or even say a name. Or even publicly say anything at all without being anonymous.
Then I think of the absolute horror of possibly being remembered as a: “thatgirlwhodidwhatwhenwhat.”
I know I'll find a permanent peace. I started off as a whisper, only telling one friend. Now I've been building into a shout. Sometimes I feel bad for not being as courageous and quick to point the finger like those naming names. But I'm not going anywhere soon. Music has been my only deep-felt therapeutic release. Not even painting has my full reverence. When I first started I would be like: When I saw him making noise, it just make me want to make noise back and be louder.
Now, I don't even feel the need to. Music is back to being a happier thing for me. I don't do it out of spite.
But it sure feels good knowing they'll all drown in our collective sound-waves.
Resources for help & education on sexual abuse and for fighting against gender inequality in the music industry:
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