*TRIGGER WARNING : WELLNESS COMMUNITY HARM, SA*
I write this letter to Survivors and Helpers in the wellness community with a heart full of humility and remorse —
Remorse for the increasing number of violations, remorse for the absence of accountability systems and remorse for the ways helping can become harming.
This letter is a prayer
of reconciliation, for
I believe peace is possible.
follow the flowers
🪷
🪷 Why We Must Talk About Misuse of Power in the Wellness Community
“A recent study published in Psychedelic Medicine found that approximately 8% reported that they or someone they know was the victim of inappropriate sexual contact by a psychedelic sitter, guide, or practitioner.”
As alarming as this statistic is, in reality, the harms people experience in the psychedelic and wellness community aren’t just related to sexual misconduct. In our time supporting others, people have reported:
financial manipulation,
scamming,
overdosing,
unsafe physical conditions while journeying,
emotional and romantic entanglement with providers,
labor exploitation,
under-qualified or inexperienced practitioners operating far outside scope of practice and so many others.
MAAT has begun using terminology like “sensual assault” to expand the definition of harm people face in these spaces, but there are many ways to describe what is happening.
Harm, abuse, negligence and ethical violations are all terms pointing to a similar problem: misuse of power.
In an attempt to address these surmounting harms, coalitions of dedicated community members have been cleaning up the mess for decades (access resource lists here). The work of repair is ongoing, because the global problem of misuse of power is ongoing.
The harms people face in the wellness community are an imprint of the harms people face in the world. The problems of the world have just found themselves here, so now we get to choose what beings we care for, how we care for those beings and the ways we show those beings that we care.
🪷 A Peace Offering for Advocates and Survivors
It is in this climate that I reflect on the journey MAAT has taken in the struggle to address harm in the wellness community. This work—calling for accountability on behalf of those harmed—is not easy.
Above all things, this letter is an apology to those harmed within our community—and a compassionate and cautionary resource for those seeking to address those harms.
🪷 Getting the Call to #holdaubertaccountable
Many people have asked,
What ever happened with the Aubert Bastiat allegations?
Where do things stand now?
To these, I want to share my thoughts on how things fell apart, as we tried to come together.
When I was first approached with complaints about Aubert Bastiat, I was deeply concerned by the level of influence that he carried. I was concerned by the fact that I was in no way connected to the community that he comes from except by a few small strands.
I was intimated, and yet, I tried to leverage any resource I had to grant the complaints an audience because helping share the Survivors' stories was a matter of public interest and a duty to warn, so others would not experience similar harm.
🪷 Creating MAAT: Humble Origins
The dream of putting together a Survivor-centered council of people that care, that listen, that have resources is not new, many organizations have answered the call to do this.
Decentralized intermediary networks is how most of the work in community gets done.
When we set out to address these complaints, I envisioned a network of people— competent and caring, resourcing one another—connected in solidarity for Survivors in the wellness community.
Even before disclosing, people and organizations offered their support to "see something, say something". Supporting Survivors is a shared vision of many.
MAAT was to say it with our chest, despite the odds and despite being ignored.
Survivors and their helpers often have to beg for their claims to be acknowledged, hoping for a response that never comes and if it does, rarely satisfies.
Even with these disappointing outcomes, I am learning to recognize the reluctance people have for supporting Survivors when they come forward.
To the people who didn’t feel comfortable supporting #holdaubertaccountable while the action was taking place in Spring 2024, I want to apologize. I now see the ways I could have held the conversation better and how I could have provided a more effective space for reconciliation among our people.
What I now know is that carrying out this kind of work requires more than good intentions—it demands wisdom that at the time, I didn’t yet possess.
At the time of initiation, I felt inspired to be one of the few to openly address the moving train of abuse and harm in our space. And for no good reason, I took a lot of arrows trying.
🪷 Behind The Scenes: Advocates and Helpers Work Through Challenging Systems
The private, in-house mediation process the Survivors were offered was demanding and ineffective, requiring countless hours of phone calls, evidence collection and coordination for little positive outcome.
Private reconciliation can be a meaningful path, but it is fraught with limitations—underscoring just how complex and nuanced accountability processes can be.
Even after all that effort, the mediation fell apart because we could not arrive at consensus. Consensus about a monetary settlement that felt satisfactory to all Survivors involved and consensus around personal commitments like counseling, coaching changes or education on working with at risk populations. Money and privacy became the focus, but not safety and continued growth.
After no meaningful conclusion could be made, we were at an impasse. Was that it? Could that possibly be the only model for coming back together after things fall apart?
Participating in private mediation can sometimes look like the only option available to settle harm disputes. This was the path we were funneled into—and it was so narrow. It limited the ways we could create meaningful restoration.
So with no agreement in place, we were faced with a difficult decision: do we go public?
🪷 The Pain in Going Public
The truth is, after mediation fell out, I wanted to end my work with this action.
I had done what I could do, what did I owe?
The words, “You said you would help us,” continue to haunt me.
From that moment, I was in the deep end, trying to drag out a drowning person, just to begin drowning myself. I sunk under the weight of my own poor boundaries, which is something that happens to many in care roles. I felt obligated to continue.
The night before the first disclosure post, I cried on my front porch.
Let me be clear—going public is never the easier route. It’s harder for every reason imaginable and here are just a few.
-- It comes with critique, blame and suspicion. People ask, What is your motive? As Survivors and helpers, motivations can change and desired outcomes change too.
-- It’s exhausting. To keep going when the feedback is not overwhelmingly positive requires stamina that most Survivors and care providers don’t have.
-- It exposes us all. Our integrity, our reputations and our stories are in full view and often, Survivors become the accused.
Coming forward about abuse is a time when Survivors are interrogated. Even in the criminal justice system, providing enough evidence can make the difference in a case being prosecuted or thrown out. As someone who had to testify in trial against their abuser at 14, I am familiar with the process of being interrogated.
After the first disclosure post, we were asked to provide proof of these claims. The community demanded clarity.
In the quest to provide proof for these claims, helping became harming.
Handing evidence is a delicate thing. Handling evidence is far outside advocacy scope of practice and yet, participating in disclosure helped reveal more about the story than we could have ever imagined. To those people who bravely came forward and spoke up, you are not forgotten.
🪷 Acknowledging The Financial Burden of Survivorship
I learned in crisis intervention training that financial dependency can be a reason people struggle to flee abusive dynamics.
What I hope people understand is that disclosing harm and naming abusers is a very destabilizing process materially.
When Survivors tell their story, they can take on the financial burden of what happens to them as a result.
That can mean --
being removed from housing,
medical expenses,
child care expenses,
lack of work,
food insecurity,
lack of mental health support,
losing material belongings
And at this time, there are very little systems to help provide material support for those fleeing harmful scenarios in psychedelic and wellness communities.
People can find support groups, but those services depend upon people having a working cell phone or computer, a place to stay, food in their bellies and enough herbal support for their nervous system to be stable enough to unpack their story, yet again.
Organizations might begin thinking about material needs of Survivors when trying to address harm in the wellness community by asking the questions: What material needs must be met in order for Survivors to begin the process of healing? Is the Survivor I'm caring for needing an ear or a meal?
Considering material needs when providing care is a very delicate balancing act, because where does the burden of care lie with helpers? Where is the boundary? How responsible are we for Survivor outcomes?
🪷 "You Could Have Walked Away At Any Time"
What I did not know in early 2024 was becoming financially and personally responsible for Survivor outcomes is NOT necessary to be an effective advocate and helper.
At the start of my work doing MAAT, I entered the slippery slope of overstepping personal and financial boundaries in solidarity, as many people in mutual aid do.
My personal money, energy and precious time became deeply invested against my better judgement and the advise of friends and colleagues.
The longer I stayed, the harder it was to call myself back. I needed my community to call me home, even with the work incomplete.
By Fall 2024, I'd taken on several roles:
fundraiser,
social media manager,
herbalist,
resource center,
counselor,
mediator,
outreach coordinator,
piggy bank.
All the roles were failing. I was failing. I was burning bridges. I was driving relationships into the ground. I was following someone into their personal abyss. I was making irreparable mistakes. I was praying for closure and finally, closure came.
After eight months of work, a council circle was held with trusted community members. Those people bore witness to a very raw moment.
My work turned on me. I was called an unethical practitioner, a violator with poor boundaries who could have walked away at any time but chose not to. I was told that I was responsible for fulfilling obligations and owed more money, time and resources.
With the support of my friends, I found the courage to finally advocate for myself and say,
"I do not owe anything and I never did. I’m sorry for the ways I failed you, but I can’t help anymore."
The advocacy relationship was painfully cut and as much as it hurt, there were tears of relief.
As a Survivor, trying to help Survivors, it can be hard to say no in the face of suffering, but being honest about our capacity to help is the greatest gift we can give ourselves and others.
🪷 An Apology to Those Harmed in the Quest to Help
It took months to write this letter, but MAAT could not continue unless these pieces were addressed.
I want to apologize to everyone affected by these actions— the Survivors and their friends, Aubert Bastiat, Sacred Sons and their leadership, the partners of the people involved, the friends of the people involved, the colleagues, family and friends who provided support along the way.
I want to apologize to the spirit of MAAT and my teachers for the ways I misrepresented their teachings.
I want to apologize to our community and our collective nervous system for the continued triggers coming from my platform this year.
It may be too late for some apologies, but I believe it is never too late for grace. Recently, I learned a definition of grace that I'd like to share:
Grace is an unexpected gift given to an undeserving person.
Following this experience, I pray for grace, often more than justice, these days.
🪷 In Reflection: The Ripples MAAT Created
Despite these failures, MAAT accomplished meaningful things, we:
helped raise $7000 (so far) to support Survivor material needs,
offered resources, council circles, conversation and some closure to those who came forward about Aubert Bastiat,
gathered evidence to help corroborate Survivor stories,
sent over 20 care packages to Survivors across the country, bringing some moments of comfort and care amidst chaos,
initiated conversations about sexual assault and power dynamics within Sacred Sons and other organizations in the psychedelic and wellness community
brought meaningful discourse through blogs and websites like this DoubleBlind article about MAAT and this "Into the Fire" Substack article
continued to create education on better ways to be when addressing harm in community
With these few roses among bushes of thorns, I want to recognize the small changes that have emerged from this process and processes like it.
Conversations continue because of the bravery of Survivors, the perseverance of small businesses, advocates, helpers and ethics councils.
The work continues because of people who care about addressing harm in the psychedelic and wellness community.
To them and to you, my deepest gratitude.
🪷 So, What Will MAAT Do Now?
MAAT hopes to inspire individuals and organizations in the wellness community to become better educated and more equipped to address all the ways harm can happen.
We remain committed to improving how we address harm in the psychedelic and wellness community.
We strive to hold better conversations, write more impactful letters and approach conflicts with greater skill.
We will continue offering accessible education and resources for those interested in addressing harm in the wellness and psychedelic community.
We find it important, still, to database grievances, for the safety of practitioners and journeyers alike. This is a vision MAAT will always uphold, but it must come slowly and with much care and oversight.
Before we move forward in any capacity as an organization, we recognize the importance of addressing our own shadows and establishing healthy boundaries, including the courage to say no more often.
Because of this, we may never engage in a large scale disclosure project due to its sensitive and condemning nature.
We aim to implement better intake systems to ensure we operate within our scope of practice and refer out more, so we do not cause further harm to those seeking help.
We are continuing education personally, with the help of mentors, training programs and teachings from people much smarter than ourselves.
With these commitments, we humbly ask for grace, for continued learning and for the possibility of coming together again.
With all our Heart,
