“How can I be understanding of those who are still barking at their employees after thirty years?”

“Another icon falls from its pedestal,” the newspapers wrote in capital letters when news broke about the alleged abusive behavior of choreographer Anne-Theresa De Keersmaeker. I was overcome with a strange feeling.

At first, I quickly sympathized with the victims, most of whom were young men. If the printed stories are true, they had been through a difficult time filled with fear, uncertainty, pain, and helplessness. In short: They, and we as a society, had lost out in this situation. We had lost our humanity, which forces us to continue to see humanity in others despite the rising tensions. The other person who is also struggling in his or her career, only to make the adrenaline-filled halls cry.

Yet I still wonder what hell the alleged perpetrators of transgressive behavior must go through. They are mentioned by name in the newspapers, they have descended from heaven to hell, they are universally praised for the essential power of their art but are relegated to the margins. They too feel the pain. The shame. Their proud hearts are empty. Because they suffer, they cannot fight back, they keep the lid up but do not see the blows coming.

One of the most important lessons I have learned is never to step on the line. You are always on the side of the person who is suffering and struggling. The man has no voice. And for this reason, despite the mistakes that many perpetrators of inappropriate behavior have undoubtedly made, I continue to challenge myself. How can I understand those who are still barking at their employees after thirty years? How much can I empathize with an artist who has lifted so many of us up? How much can I loudly praise their craft? Can I have boundless empathy for the perpetrator and the victim?

I continue to search for answers, immersed in the art of asking questions. Doubting and swallowing. Thinking more. About where the limit is, how hard to push it. What I can still say, what doubts I can still write down. Flirting with the boundaries of what is acceptable.

Amir Bashouri is a writer. His column appears every two weeks.