In the bonfire that has been sexual assault allegations over the past few weeks, a lot of chatter has kept the fire burning and, as gay men, what we don’t talk about is that Kevin Spacey and George Takei are part of a much larger issue: The gay community has made sexual assault an appealing and casual art form. Gay culture doesn’t just tolerate sexual assaults, it encourages them, particularly in gay bars; it’s a pervasive problem that we need to take responsibility for. Many of us have been there. We’re all too familiar with the caressing touch of a strange hand on our butts in the club and, personally, I’ve become accustomed to the unwanted crotch grabs from men I barely know, if at all.

Sexual assault affects every community, but the gay community has had particular difficulty confronting it because its victims can also be perpetrators. Sexuality and sexual expression are huge parts of gay culture and many of the spaces gay men create for themselves are hypersexualized. Advertisements for gay nightlife or events frequently feature hot dudes in states of undress and, in the clubs, muscle-clad gogo boys dance on the bar for our entertainment. If there isn’t a chance we might get laid, you can almost guarantee many of us won’t be going. However, these spaces do and should represent more than just lust and sex. They are sanctuaries of our culture. In the heterosexual-dominated spaces of the outside world, we might be subjected to bigotry for expressing our sexuality. Gay bars and gay venues offer a safe environment to celebrate our sexuality, free of judgment. Yet as we’ve built fences to protect us from the hatred of the outside world, we’ve forgotten the need to protect the people inside of it as well.

In gay clubs, the lines of consent often find themselves as blurred as the vision of their patrons after one too many vodka sodas. When there is a muscled jock dancing on a box who is letting you tuck dollars into his speedo, it seems hard to tell what’s okay and what’s not. We so often commoditize male bodies through our social settings and sex work, that we don’t treat them with any humanity. There is a sense of ownership and propriety in these instances that transfers this kind of behavior downstream through the whole nightlife experience for many of us. It is worth noting as well that — at times — it is this kind of physical validation that we also seek out. We worked hard for that body, so somebody better want to touch it. That doesn’t mean they’re allowed to. Therefore, in a culture that puts such high value on physical appearance, it becomes hard to negotiate what kind of attention is and isn’t welcomed.

But it shouldn’t be.

Personal responsibility isn’t exactly synonymous with bar culture — gay or straight — but there is an ideal way to conduct yourself in a bar that doesn’t risk you violating the safety and integrity of other people's bodies. The first thing to keep in mind is that not everyone is looking for whatever it is you’re looking for. The next thing to keep in mind is that their body belongs to them and not to you. Existing in a highly sexualized environment does not grant carte blanche for anyone to grab a complete stranger’s ass. Nor does buying that person a drink. This seems like common sense, but judging from my experiences and observations, it’s not. These misplaced ideals end up combined with the explicitly pornographic atmosphere at many parties can sometimes be seen as ratification of this behavior.