*Trigger Warning: This post is going to get personal and includes topics that could be triggering, including SA, rape and child abuse. I’ve purposely withheld graphic details, but please proceed with caution.*

“Monsters come in all shapes and sizes. Some of them are things people are scared of. Some of them are things that look like things people used to be scared of a long time ago. Sometimes monsters are things people should be scared of, but they aren’t.”

Remember this quote from this post? If you’ve googled the author of said quote lately, the irony here is like a gut punch. Neil Gaiman, as it turns out, has been hiding his own monster for a while.

Somehow I missed the initial accusations leveled against Gaiman in 2024 (to be honest I avoid the news like the plague for my mental health) for sexual assault and rape incidents against five women. Today, I see that number has now reached eight, with the inclusion of child abuse.

Let me tell you, I really didn’t want to read that article. I wanted to throw my phone across the room and rage against people who make false accusations against good people. Because I desperately didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t want one of my favorite authors to be yet another man who exploited my trust. And let’s be clear, while these allegations are absolutely horrifying and this pales in comparison, there is an entire fanbase of people who were led to believe Neil Gaiman was “one of the good ones”—a vocal advocate and champion of women and abuse victims. So many of us connected with his work on an emotionally intimate level that now feels grossly violated. Some of us also feel this violation on a whole other level beyond standard disgust.

You see, I am a survivor of rape, sexual assault, and domestic violence. I have CPTSD, severe anxiety, and clinical depression that all stem from various traumas. My abusers were people I was supposed to be able to trust. People in positions of power and authority. My abusers were humans that are loved and seen as good people, “who would never do such a thing.” But people do, in fact, do such horrible, horrible things to each other. So let me make it clear, that when accusations are made against people that seem harmless or above reproach, I will always give presumed victims the benefit of the doubt until proven otherwise. Would I love to see Neil Gaiman legitimately exonerated? 100 percent. But I’m not holding my breath here. There are too many corroborating details from his victims to not see the truth. My heart breaks for the women who have been hurt by this man. The little girl in me wants to rage for the child caught up in the middle of all this vile behavior.

I’ve seen some posts and statements saying the signs were there all along in his work. It’s dark and twisty, and at times, downright creepy. And maybe this is true. Or maybe it was actually good stuff created by a not-so-good person. I can sit here and tell you all the works of music, art, literature, media, etc. that I’ve loved only to later find out their creators were deeply broken humans who abused others.

Perhaps that’s why this hurts so much. Because some of my best work has stemmed from my own dark and twisty places that I don’t want the world to see. Maybe I innately recognize the traces of pain-inspired art because it calls to something that others broke in me. But I’m also not out here abusing other people behind closed doors for the sake of my art, or any other deviant reason. Over the years it’s become clear to me that there are two types of people who channel personal pain into their art. Those who use it as a means of catharsis, reclaiming autonomy, and healing. And those who treat their pain as a muse, feeding on it like an addict. But sometimes, it’s near impossible to discern where that line exists and you’re blindsided when you finally figure it out.

So what do you do when your heroes fall from grace?

Do you discard their creations, ban or burn their legacies?

Do you separate the art from the artist?

Do you keep the bastard on the bookshelf?