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In electronic music, the line between work and nightlife has never been clear. Deals happen backstage. Project discussions take place at 4 AM. You meet bookers on a dancefloor glowing with strobe. The night functions as a workspace as much as a social space. And it’s precisely in that blur that one of the scene’s most persistent problems appears: advances from people in positions of power toward those who depend on them to work.
We’re not talking about criminal acts here. We’re talking about a system where programmers, managers, producers, club owners, agency directors, influential journalists use,sometimes consciously, sometimes not, their status to flirt, insist or test boundaries. It’s not dramatic. But it’s systemic. And that is enough to shape careers, or damage them.
Many women in the scene encounter this constantly. DJs, programmers, photographers, journalists, agents, bookers, community managers: all describe the same mechanism. The advances don’t come from another partygoer. They come from someone who holds real power over their trajectory. A yes can open a door. A no can close it. The risk is structurally embedded.
Saying no is never just no.
Saying no can mean losing a gig.
Saying no can mean losing a residency.
Saying no can mean disappearing from lineups.
Saying no can mean being silently blacklisted in a tiny ecosystem where everyone knows everyone.
So many learn to navigate around it. To dodge. To smile politely. To “leave things vague”. To be kind to protect the connection. You become a diplomat without wanting to. You lie a little. You laugh without conviction. You downplay. Not out of naivety, but out of self-protection. Because you know what saying no can cost.
And this dynamic isn’t exclusive to heterosexual situations. It exists in queer nightlife too. Between gay men who operate within the same hierarchies. Between lesbian women where some hold authority and others depend on the same circuits. Power, not desire, is what skews the relationship.
This isn’t a story about flirting. It’s a story about context. Meeting someone in a club is normal. Falling in love in nightlife is part of its culture. What is not normal is flirting with someone who depends on you to work. Consent becomes tied to survival, not desire.
The electronic scene loves to call itself inclusive, free, safe. Yet this contradiction undermines everything it claims to stand for. There is no safe space when someone’s career can hinge on how they respond to an unwanted advance. There is no equality when a “no” can determine an artist’s future.
We are preparing a complete article with testimonies, anonymous or not. Because this problem cannot be solved in darkness. Because those who keep this scene alive deserve to work without navigating imposed grey zones. Because nightlife was never meant to reproduce daytime power structures. And because consent is also about power.
Finally, there are quiet but unmistakable signs that someone is uncomfortable: freezing up, avoiding eye contact, offering neutral answers, turning toward a friend, folding their arms, stepping back without daring to leave. These gestures speak for those who can’t say no safely.
Electronic culture deserves better than these power games. It deserves spaces where people can work, create and dance without choosing between safety and opportunity.