I never wanted to write this.
But after everything… I have to.
Not just for me—but for everyone who’s ever been pushed aside after they were hurt. Everyone who was made to feel like they were the problem for daring to speak up.

Eufuria put me on their “warning list.”
That list isn’t for people who did something wrong. It’s for people they think might.
People security is told to keep an eye on. Not banned—but branded. Watched. Whispered about. As if I were dangerous.

But I wasn’t a danger.
I was assaulted.
And when I asked for help—when I tried to speak up about what happened—they treated me like I was the threat.

That kind of betrayal breaks something inside you.

Eufuria has no sexual assault response team. No trauma-informed staff. No real way to help survivors. I know more than one person who was raped at that con—and none of them got help. Not a single one. Just silence. Or worse—gaslighting, punishment, being labeled unstable.

This wasn’t the first time they made me feel disposable.

Some of you remember what happened with Kit.
I do.
I was pushed into signing an NDA about things I witnessed before I was even staff. It wasn’t about protecting privacy—it was about covering up harm. Making me stay silent. Making sure the con’s image came before truth or healing.

I tried to keep the peace.
I tried to follow the rules.
But now, looking back… I see it clearly.

This was never about “safety.”
This was about control.

I think I was banned because of this.
Not because I broke a rule.
But because I refused to keep pretending everything was okay.

This is what takes the cake.
Not the Kit incident. Not the NDA.
This.
Being watched like a threat after I was assaulted.
Being discarded when I needed help the most.

They didn’t protect me.
They marked me.

When a convention would rather hide what happened to you than stand beside you—when your pain is treated as a disruption rather than a cry for help—that isn’t a community. That’s a culture of silence.

I don’t want pity.
I want truth.
I want survivors to know they’re not alone.
And I want Eufuria—and every other con like it—to understand:
You can’t build a safe space while punishing the people who were hurt.

I was hurt at Eufuria.
And they responded by making sure I wouldn’t be trusted.
But I’m done being quiet.

I’m still here.
And I’m not going to disappear just because it’s inconvenient for them.

—Tabitha