Why Speaking Up Sometimes Feels Heavy, But Necessary
There’s a fine line between standing up for yourself and feeling like you're tearing something down, especially when your heart is in the right place. Recently, I found myself caught in that exact space, and it’s left me with a mix of emotions I didn’t expect.
A while back, I was asked to support a community event that claimed to help Feed the less fortunate. I was offered $800 to provide surround sound, DJ services, and bring in other performers. But the reality is, that amount didn’t even scratch the surface of the true cost. Still, I believed in the mission. So I told the organizer to keep the money and use it to help those in need. I said I’d take care of everything myself and get a sponsor to cover my costs.
To make it happen, I spent $950 out of pocket, paying my crew for my sound services( load in/out &set up/breakdown) and another DJ to ensure the event had the energy and quality it deserved. I wasn’t doing this for personal gain, I truly wanted to support something I believed was helping the community and I wanted to build with them. I even secured a sponsor to cover those expenses so the organizer didn’t have to pay anything. The only catch? The sponsor had to write the check directly to the event. I asked them to make it out to the organizer, trusting they’d handle it with honesty.
That’s when everything changed.
After the check was received, the organizer disappeared. No updates. No thank you. No reimbursement. Just silence. I followed up over and over and never heard back. Eventually, I said if they didn’t respond, I’d have to speak up. I meant it, and I followed through after months of no response.
When I finally shared my story, I didn’t expect the wave that followed. Dozens of people reached out to me privately with their own stories including venue owners, and vendors who had all been burned by this same organizer. It became painfully clear that this was a pattern.
Soon after, the event’s social media pages were taken down. That’s when the guilt kicked in.
I didn’t want to ruin an event that, at its core, could’ve been something beautiful. I didn’t want other vendors to lose an opportunity to connect with the community. But I also couldn’t keep silent knowing how many people had been taken advantage of, especially when I tried everything I could to resolve it privately first.
It’s a strange space to sit in, knowing your voice has power, using it to protect others, and still feeling bad about the fallout, especially when the organizer shows no remorse or care But I’ve come to realize that speaking up doesn’t always feel good. Sometimes, it just feels necessary. Because staying silent lets the cycle continue.
So, here’s what I’ve learned:
* Always get a contract, even with people you consider friends.
* Ask questions. Ask for receipts. Ask for proof.
* Get paid upfront or at least secure a deposit.
* Trust your instincts. If something feels off, it probably is.
* And most importantly, don’t let guilt convince you that telling the truth is wrong.
Community events have the power to unite, inspire, and uplift but only when they’re built on respect and integrity. We deserve better. Our community deserves better.
I’m not sharing this out of bitterness , I’m sharing it out of love. Love for the creatives, service providers, and community leaders who give their all and expect just basic honesty in return. If my experience spares even one person from going through what I did, then it was worth it.
