It happens a lot to me and I never know when to expect it. This time, I was standing alone looking over the pictures on my camera, that I had just taken of Chance the Rapper, using one hand to shade the image viewer from the scorching midday sun. And that is when I felt it. A hand, rough and large, come in contact, not all that gently, with my behind.

It hurt. What was worse was how shocking it was. How all of a sudden I was taken out of my position of professional photographer and degraded to merely a body to be touched, gazed at and objectified. It took me a second to react, turn around and weigh my options. The offender was about 6 feet tall and weighed at least 75 pounds more than my 5-foot-tall frame. He wasn’t alone either. Two friends, both equally as big, walked to one side of him. I considered confronting him, but I worried for my safety and the $1000 worth of camera equipment and a day’s worth of pictures around my neck.

I considered not doing anything. It wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to me and I assumed not the last. But then I saw him hit another person who, I will assume here, identifies as female and I couldn’t let him go. Luckily, there was a security guard nearby and I pointed out the offender, who was easily identifiable and only a few feet away. The security guard assured me he would “keep an eye” on the offender, but then walked in the opposite direction as the offender, while the offender was able to slip away into a crowd, not knowing the consequences of his actions.

I would like to say this was the only situation of this kind to happen to me at this year’s Sasquatch Music Festival, but that would be a lie. I can’t count the number of times people commented on my attractiveness and told me to smile more. I have gotten to a point where words like that don’t bother me, but I am still offended every time my personal space is violated. I am even more offended that I was probably one of many victims. I have no way of knowing how many people this man inappropriately touched, or if his actions exceeded grabbing people’s behinds against their will.

Don’t get me wrong, I love going to concerts and I love Sasquatch. I will probably go next year and will most likely experience at least one similar situation. While sexual assault happens everywhere, it becomes almost more acceptable when drugs, alcohol and a “lost” weekend come in to play. While there is a great freedom that comes with being able to leave your day-to-day life behind for a weekend, listening to music in one of the most gorgeous places in the world, some take this as an excuse to do things they would be ashamed of doing in their real life.

The worst part is that we live in a society where this behavior is acceptable. The security guard, who is there to make sure people feel safe, left me worried not just for my own safety, but everyone else’s. Music and music festivals specifically should be there for everyone’s enjoyment. It’s the chance, if you can afford it, to experience something magical that only comes from the collective experience of listening to live music. When people do not feel comfortable in these situations, they are being excluded from an experience that should be available for all.

On a side note, that isn’t all that unrelated, only 20% of musicians and comedians who performed at Sasquatch this year where female, which is high compared to 16% at last year’s Coachella Music Festival and comparable percentages at music festivals around the country.

But there is hope. Kathleen Hanna, the lead singer of Bikini Kill, one of the seminal bands of the riot grrrl scene in the 1990s, would yell at their concerts, “All girls to the front! All boys be cool, for once in your lives go back. Back. Back,” out of her desire to create a safe space for women. This became one of the group’s most famous mantras and was a huge part of the riot grrrl ethos. In one line, Hanna, through her frustration, destroyed the boys’ club mentality and male dominance of not just live rock concerts, but music in general.

And this legacy continues today. One of the most incredible moments of Sasquatch for me, this year, was M.I.A.’s performance. Halfway through the show she invited female audience members on to the stage to dance with her for a song. I was a second too late to get on stage, but in that moment, I felt safe. I felt validated. I didn’t feel alone.

This guest viewpoint was written by Hannah Rose Steinkopf-Frank. If you would like to submit a guest viewpoint, please keep it under 750 words and email Emerald opinion editor Andrea Harvey at andreah@dailyemerald.com.