Just Stop It

When will we, as a society, put an end to the culture of silence that protects sexual perpetrators?

One might think that collective awakenings and public reckonings would have shifted us further than they have. And yet, here we are. Again.

I have written before about my own lived experiences with predators—those who believe it is acceptable to cross boundaries, abuse power, and behave with deep disrespect in both professional and personal spaces. I have written because it keeps happening. Around me. To people I care about. To far too many others.

Just stop it.

That is what I want to say—to everyone who contributes, directly or indirectly, to allowing this to continue.

Someone once told me that in an unjust world, justice does not always arrive through formal channels. Sometimes, it takes other forms. Writing this is mine. Carrying the voices of those who are too often silenced is mine. These words are addressed to those who, knowingly or not, help sustain this culture.

To the perpetrators

Let’s start with you—the source of harm inflicted on far too many.

If you ever hurt someone close to me through your disgusting and disrespectful behaviour, consider this your warning: I will not tolerate it. Period. You will be made aware—sooner or later—that I know what you have done.

You have gotten away with this behaviour for far too long. Not because it is acceptable, but because those around you failed you by not calling it out—by minimizing it, excusing it, and normalizing what you do. That silence has emboldened you.

You feel powerful because you have learned that you can prey on employees, colleagues, friends—or whomever happens to be within reach—and face little to no consequence. You do not believe you are doing anything wrong.

You justify your ugliness by hiding behind community engagement, prominent work, and a carefully curated nice person act. Smiles. Charm. Respectability.

But let’s be clear: you are a wolf in disguise.

You fool many. But not all.

If people truly paid attention—if they listened to the whispers, the rumours, the patterns, the bright neon-flashing warnings relayed by those around you—you would be done exercising the power you currently hold.

And when confronted, you reach for the same defence every time.

They were coming on to me.

That anyone still believes this is beyond me. But I know you have played that card often enough—when a partner starts asking questions, when an employer grows uneasy, when a friend begins to connect the dots.

So let me be unequivocal:

No, they were not coming on to you.

No, substances do not excuse your behaviour—if anything, they demand that you stop.

No, stress does not justify it.

Nothing justifies it.

It wasn’t acceptable decades ago.It isn’t acceptable now.

Just stop it.

To the partners of the perpetrators

I am capable of holding two truths at once—and so are you.

I know that, in many cases, you are trying to protect the life you know. Your children, if you have them. Your stability. Your sense of safety. Your standing. I know how much is at stake when the truth threatens to unravel what you have built.

And I also know this: you have seen things.

Moments that felt off.

Behaviour that raised questions.

Discomfort you learned to swallow, rationalize, or silence.

So I will ask you plainly—because anything less would be dishonest: have you ever allowed yourself to consider that what you heard, what you sensed, what you noticed, might be true?

If you have witnessed inappropriate behaviour, even once, have you stopped to think about how it felt for the person on the receiving end?

Do you ever think about them?

I suspect that many of you are victims yourselves. Living alongside someone who repeatedly crosses boundaries has a way of distorting reality. Self-blame takes hold quickly. Silence begins to feel like survival.

Normalizing becomes easier than confronting.Looking away feels safer than naming.

The angry part of me—the part that has watched too much harm unfold—wants to say this clearly: by staying silent, you are helping it continue.

And the part of me that understands what it means to endure says this instead: I know how heavy the truth can feel when you finally let it surface.

But hear me when I say this—what you choose to face within yourself matters. It matters to the victims. Plural. And it matters to you.

Silence protects no one forever.

To those in positions of authority

Stop hiding behind process.

Stop protecting reputation over people.

Stop treating harm as an inconvenience to be managed.

I have seen what happens when misconduct is buried—when incidents are quietly “handled,” when victims are left to carry the weight of an experience that is minimized, mishandled, or dismissed altogether.

Letting someone go is not accountability if it simply allows them to repeat the pattern elsewhere.

If you hold power—organizational, institutional, social—you hold responsibility. That responsibility does not end with risk management or legal language. It begins with culture.

Clear policies.

Clear reporting mechanisms.

Clear consequences.

Silence does not preserve harmony. It preserves harm.

And when someone comes forward, understand this: they did not do so lightly. Speaking up costs something—careers, credibility, peace of mind. People do not choose that path casually.

If you are in a position to act and choose not to, you are no longer neutral. You are participating.

To those who look away

We all know this behaviour exists.

We feel it.

We sense it.

We talk about it quietly—just not loudly enough.

It makes us uncomfortable. It makes us angry. And still, many hope it will simply disappear if left alone.

It won’t.

Outrage without action accomplishes nothing.

What has been most devastating to witness over the years is how often victims are met with minimization—sometimes even by those who should know better. The pattern is familiar:

“Yes… that’s how they are. But…”

There is always a but.

And notice this: the behaviour is acknowledged. The perpetrator is known. And still, silence wins.

Silence is learned. It is reinforced. It is rewarded. It protects belonging at the expense of truth.

I have been told to stay quiet.

To forgive.

To move on.

To start over somewhere else.

I have been warned that speaking out makes one inconvenient. Difficult. A problem.

So be it.

If telling the truth makes me uncomfortable to others, I will accept that consequence. I will not accept the silence.

And I will continue to say it—clearly, forcefully, without apology:

Just stop it.

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If you or someone you know has experienced sexual violence or harassment, support resources are available below:

• South-eastern Sexual Assault Centre (SESAC) -Crossroads for Women/Carrefour pour femmes: 857-8028; sesac.casse@crossroadsforwomen.ca . Support line at 1-844-853-0811 (24/7).

• Beausejour Family Crisis Resource Centre: (506) 533-9100

• Victim Services Offices in New Brunswick: For more information on services for victims of crime, contact the Victim Services office nearest you.

• Sexual Violence New Brunswick (formally known as the Fredericton Sexual Assault Centre): (506) 454-0460;

• Guide on sexual assault and addiction made available by the Boca Recovery Center in Florida.