Like many industries, publishing is going through a massive reckoning over serial sexual assault and harrassment. Articles, forums, and comments sections are filling up with women who are finding the courage and support to step forward and call out the creepy, awful behavior they have experienced from other authors, editors, publishers, illustrators, convention organizers, and more. I have always believed that you should believe a woman who says she’s been harassed, so I believe these women, too.

And then I was accused of being a harasser.

And then the same woman recanted her accusation.

I do not know who this woman is, as she posted anonymously both times, but I want to take this opportunity to pubicly accept her apology, and to thank her for coming forward.

But here’s the thing: I believed her. Obviously I didn’t believe that I had assaulted someone and then forgotten about it, or anything ridiculous like that. But I was–and am–willing to believe that without intending to and without noticing I had done something to make a woman feel uncomfortable or unwelcome or unsafe. I always try to do my best, but what if I made an off-color joke, or an accidental insinuation? My position as a podcaster and instructor puts me in a lot of conversations with aspiring authors asking for help and advice–what if I implied, even without realizing it, that my help and advice was contingent on some kind of unsavory quid pro quo? This woman claimed to have quit writing because of me, and I never want to be the reason that someone leaves this industry or community. I could have raged against the injustice of this comment–and to be perfectly honest, a part of me did–but the more useful, more helpful response was to sit down and take a good hard look at myself and my actions. What have I been doing, and what can I do in the future, to make the conventions I attend and the spaces I inhabit safer for other people?

Recanted accusation or not, I found some stuff I need to work on. Not a long history of abusive behavior, but a tune-up on boundaries, and on thinking before I speak.

I want to urge everyone to take the same look. We live in a society where aggressive, uncomfortable behavior is so commonplace that it can often be invisible–at least to the perpetrators. The #MeToo movement is shining a light on the many ways in which people are mistreated, and I hope that the women and men with sincere issues continue to come forward, but their actions are not going to create the necessary changes on their own; the onus is on us–mostly men in positions of power–to do our part as well. We need to examine the ways we act in public spaces. We need to think about other people, and the impact we can have on them, before we speak and act. And we need to use our positions of authority and power to lift people up instead of keeping them down. I’m going to try to be better. Who’s with me?

I also want to address the #ImOut movement very quickly before I finish. There is a growing group of people declaring that #MeToo has gotten out of hand, and turned into a witch hunt, and that no one should be able to point an anonymous finger and end a person’s career. I have two things to say about that:

1) Somebody pointed an anonymous finger at me, and I’m fine. The careers that are being destroyed are doing so under an avalanche of specific details and corroborating witnesses–people are definitely eager to punish misconduct right now, but most of them are smart enough to see the difference between one anonymous comment and a massive group of staunch accusers. Most of the authors going down right now were considered “open secrets” in the kidlit community, with dozens if not hundreds of testimonies against them. The organizations who are rescinding memberships and speaking engagements, and the publishers who are rescinding contracts, are not doing it lightly, and they are not pulling out those big guns for unconfirmed and unsubstantiated claims.

2) On the other hand, this is a clear opportunity to acknowledge, again, my position of power. I’m an established author with a strong career and firm allies, and I can weather this storm better than others. Charlie Pulsipher, the other author falsely accused along with me, hasn’t yet had time to build the same foundation, and may well be suffering more than I am. With him, and with me, and with any creator you see being accused of harassment, I urge you to do the same thing that the publishing bigwigs are doing: believe the women, take them seriously, and look for corroborating opinions and evidence. If the accusation is real, you will find them. If it’s not, you’ll find that, too. A history of trying to do the right thing will speak just as loudly as a history of misconduct you thought was kept hidden.

And it goes without saying, but: don’t accuse people falsely. For crying out loud. It hurts innocent people, and it makes it harder for the true problems to be identified and dealt with, which, in turn, hurts more innocent people.

The changes in our society right now are painful, but they are important, and I believe that we will be stronger on the other side. Believe women. Be better. Do better. Try harder. A community full of safe and happy people of all genders is far more important than whatever long-standing habits you might need to change to make others feel welcome. We can do this, and our community–and the world–will be better for it.