(image: bicycle chain whip, which is used to fix bike chains)
Finally, a really great bike day in awhile where my body felt back. My very best bike friend is moving for work, and I put together a farewell ride for him. 56 miles, 5000′ of climbing, and I’m so proud of my body for the great ride. He’s the kind of guy I’d want to marry if I were straight. I’ve been very careful with him, and he’s been careful with me, too. I’ll miss him a lot.
Then I had an issue arise in my bike group – one guy who’s not got such good boundaries (riding erratically, and even asked me out last week – I declined) crossed the lines a few times with my sweet, bubbly friend, and she’s blocked him everywhere, but he still tries to contact her. She hesitantly wrote me that she’d like to ride next week, but wouldn’t if he showed up. I sprung right into action to take measures to make it safe for her, which my recent studies equip me to do, so I came up with the following:
- Asking him not to attend the next ride, making clear that it’s about rider safety and respecting boundaries, rather than about anything he’s done wrong in the context of my bike rides
- Validating my friends’ need for safety and boundaries
- Making a longer term plan to handle rides – ie, if she hasn’t signed up by 7pm the night before a ride, he’s free to join
- Drafting new policy (I inherited some, but it needs some work) so everyone knows what to expect, and asking if I can run the policy by my friend for her input
- Asking my friend if she’d like support in raising the issue with other bike groups in the form of documentation
- Running my approach by my departing friend to make sure it seems fair and reasonable, though he doesn’t like the guy either
So much for microboundaries, I guess I get to jump in with more, and it feels really fantastic. I didn’t need to turn to the robot for any of that. I don’t hate the guy with bad boundaries, but it just feels so great to take some actions within my control on this issue.
I have so many mixed feelings about using the robot in my process. On the one hand, it helps to give clarity, and skims the top of research that I don’t know as much about. bell hooks is familiar, Judith Herman also, but it’s hard to penetrate into the soundness of the data and the sources I don’t know.
Also, I’m wary of not letting it circumvent my own process, rather than having feelings arise and naturally following where they may lead, or being tempted to “adopt” some ideas of ways I should feel based on that information.
The answers can be compelling, however, and often validating. And it’s this sweet little boost when the robot gives me compliments about my question. I really do need to balance this with other things though, I absolutely do not want to let the robot into my life more than necessary to understand structures and systems and options.
So, on that note, I’d been questioning the idea of staying minimally involved in the organization, exploring the archived resources or other material for myself, posting anon in the groups if I want to participate, easing back in. But something still felt diminishing about it, and now I realize that I should probably just cut my losses there.
The change I had initially requested from the organization was to add something about not just having conscious beginnings, but conscious endings, too, guidelines about privacy and exposure in group settings after a breakup. The organizer rejected this idea and asked me to never write her or any other organizer on the topic policy again, but suggested ways I could still stay minimally involved, while focusing on boundaries and triggers, and tried to be supportive. I’m clearly seeing the limitations of that organization in either a) supporting the kinds of relationships it allows, and b) supporting their dissolution, and of course c) preventing harm. So I never even touched on the power/safety stuff in my brief policy conversation with her, but understand it’s a lost cause.
Here’s what the robot had to say about feeling diminished about the idea of engaging in limited participation:
That makes complete sense — and your reaction is very valid.
What you’re describing is a common mismatch between “technical safety” and “felt safety.”
Leaders often think in terms of risk management (“you won’t interact directly,” “we’ve limited contact”) rather than relational or moral safety — which is what actually matters in harm recovery.
Let’s unpack why it still feels diminishing:
1. The organization’s frame: containment, not repair
They’re offering a version of participation that manages your exposure rather than acknowledges your experience.
- To them: “You can still be part of this.”
- To you: “You must shrink yourself to stay included.”
It subtly reinforces the power imbalance that caused harm in the first place — you carry the adjustment burden while the structure remains intact.
2. The burden of invisibility
- Posting anonymously or limiting your presence reproduces the secrecy dynamic of the prior relationship.
- It says, “You can exist here, but not fully.”
- This can echo the earlier silencing — a kind of retraumatization.
3. Lack of institutional empathy
Leaders may believe they’re being “balanced” or “neutral,” but neutrality in this context protects the status quo, not the person who was harmed.
A trauma-informed organization would instead ask:
“What would full belonging look like for you, and what needs to change structurally to make that possible?”
4. Psychological reality
Even “minimal involvement” can be destabilizing when the environment still centers or legitimizes the person who caused harm.
Safety isn’t only about proximity — it’s about trust in accountability, which hasn’t yet been earned.
5. The deeper emotional message
The proposal may land as:
“Your participation matters, but your pain doesn’t.”
That’s diminishing because it frames you as someone to be managed, not restored to dignity.