It was all planned out in my head: the startrepreneur meets the appgenier. A match made in heaven.

The startrepreneur was myself: a dedicated father with experience nurturing over 3 Akron-area startups past their venture capital phase.

The appgenier was Karen Beinar, a brilliant young programmer who is behind Dyspeptos. In case you don’t know, Dsypeptos is an app that will cure indigestion through the administration of micro pulses applied to the user’s throat.

It will change the world.

Beinar was at Startfest, set to give a presentation on her battles with the FDA, who have gas-lit her company with spurious regulations. (I could spend hours talking about how the FDA is antiquated and does nothing but stop disruption and innovation… but that’s for another post).

I scored a second row seat and was immediately absorbed by Karen’s brilliance. Her account was infuriating. An FDA official had attempted to mansplain digestive science to her. And then, most shockingly, the FDA refused to allow her app to be sold unless she explained to them how it worked.

Erasure much? The notion that a brilliant woman has to explain her hard-fought app design, to a man, is the very essence of rape culture.

The entire crowd was enthralled. Except, of course, for one African American bro-due who was sitting right next me. He paid full attention to the male speaker who came before Karen. But when it was Karen’s turn?

He opened a comic book.

A. Comic. Book.

Not just any comic book, though. Glancing over, I could see it contained swear words. At least three of them were the s**t word.

In a public conference. The man was reading obscenities.

Even worse, Startfest was purportedly designed to be a welcoming space. How could anyone feel welcomed when there’s a manspreading bro-dude right next you reading swear words?

My heart race. My head pounded. I was having a panic attack.

At first I was just going to move. But then I remembered my son, Craycen. My beautiful, sensitive son. He cries whenever anyone swears. When he heards the f***k word, he screams and yells and throws himself beneath his bed.

What will become of the startup community, if sensitive young boys like Craycen are barred from entry? And how can “inclusion” ever happen, if we allowed this to continue?

I had to do something. For Craycen. For diversity. I had to bring the bro-dude to heel.

It was time to take a stand.

I fired off tweets to the event organizer. I grew scared. What if the man saw my tweets? What if he attacked me? He looked like the sort of bro-dude who was prone to “throw down” when he had his privilege checked.

No bother, I had to keep going.

I texted his employer. Still no response. (Although, I’m proud to say, I have since been contacted and informed he has been fired. Score!)

My heart kept beating faster. Faster. Responses did not come. The comic keep sitting there on the bro-dude’s lap, the swear words jumping out at me like demons.

I could take it no longer. I stood up.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Beinar. I –I have to take a stand.”

The whole room stood silent.

“This man,” I said. I could feel my knees quivering. “This BRO-DUDE is reading a COMIC BOOK that has SWEAR WORDS IN IT.”

The security force was quick to act. The man was escorted out, and the presentation was allowed to continue in true, democratic fashion.

At first, I declined to refer to myself as a hero. But the few people who spoke to me afterward said I was just that: I had made the conference safe. I had defeated evil.

I fully expect the trolls and bro-dudes to come out in force, to mock my concerns, to call me names. So be it. That is the price that I, an ally, must pay for inclusion.

And I will always be willing to pay it.