Time and time again, we see violent discourse when the discussion of consent takes center stage. Most recently, this can be detected in the reasoning behind the suspension of Boston Celtics Head Coach Ime Udoka. Udoka, riding off a stellar freshman season at the helm of the Celtics, was handed a year-long suspension as a result of “multiple violations of team policies.”

Though the news was initially framed around Udoka having an “improper intimate and consensual relationship,” with a female member of the Celtics’ staff, details have since emerged that challenge this claim.

On Sept. 30, ESPN reported on sources claiming the Celtics’ internal investigations leading to Udoka’s suspension found the head coach had made crude comments towards the female subordinate before their relations had even begun.

Consent has, and I fear always will have a substantial gray area. But despite the debate on the connotation of consent, it surely is not difficult for the women affected by these situations to grasp its meaning. It is so pivotal, especially in a time where information can be shared and believed in mere seconds, that we must be conscious of how, and more importantly who, is asserting consent.

Nowhere has the woman involved publicly stated that the bounds of her relations with Udoka were consensual. Nonetheless, we have popular figures such as ESPN commentator Stephen A. Smith voicing their support for Udoka, going as far as justifying Udoka’s actions as common and calling the suspension in itself “utter bulls—.”

What’s “utter bulls—” is the long lineage of justification created for those who have embroiled themselves into situations of sexual misconduct. Kobe Bryant, Derrick Rose and Ben Roethlisberger–three huge names in the world of professional sports; each accomplished, treasured athletes whose fame transcends their team’s individual fanbase. Yet each one has been accused at least once of sexual assault or rape.

I had no idea of this fact until reading Julie DiCaro’s novel, “Sidelined: Sports, Culture, and Being a Woman in America.” Not only was I unaware of the instances themselves, I was unaware of the extent of evidence that exists showing these occurrences happened. How did I not know about this? The answer lies no further an epidemic ravaging through our world: “manitation.”

A play on the phrase “sanitation,” DiCaro hyper-focuses on the term invented by Texas sportswriter Levi Weaver:

Manitizing has already dispersed its’ infectious effects on the Udoka situation. Since the suspension’s media publication on Sept. 23, the focus of the story has largely switched from what happened to what will happen to Udoka and those closest to him.

Whether it be his kids, fiancé or players, the media, fans and even individuals directly in the crosshairs of the incident have succumbed to the illness that is manitation, all in an attempt to best fit the narrative supporting Udoka.

Take Celtics point guard Marcus Smart for example. When prompted to share his thoughts on the suspension of Udoka in a press conference, Smart claimed, “Nobody died. I still love Ime as a person and as a coach. He led us to the Finals. It’s just something unfortunate has happened to him.”

Nothing happened to Ime Udoka. It is solely what Udoka took part in that was a direct cause for the consequences of his own actions.

When those like Smith and Smart make these harmful assertions—because of the vast platforms they have—those who follow them oftentimes blindly follow suit.

We have continuously seen the phenomena of sweeping matters under the rug in order to protect these figures. But what we do not see is the protection of those most vulnerable to ill treatment. In consistently believing men over women, we aren’t just harming women; we are failing an entire population. By continuing to strengthen an already deeply rooted ideal, those in positions of power are only further being given the benefit of the doubt.

Through  this process,  the attention is instead directed towards immediate speculation of the women involved. Once word of the scandal involving Udoka broke, speculation began almost immediately about who these inappropriate relations occurred with.

A Twitter witch hunt of all female Celtics employees—being targeted under no concrete premise—began in earnest, accusing people merely because of their sex. Under no court of law would such little evidence stand trial. Yet in our day to day lives, it is deemed admissible?

Celtics’ President of Basketball Operations, Brad Stevens said it best:

“We have a lot of talented women in our organization. I thought yesterday was really hard on them,” Stevens said. “Nobody can control Twitter speculation… but I do think that we as an organization have a responsibility to make sure we’re there to support them now. Because a lot of people were dragged unfairly into that.

When  a power dynamic is abused, consent can never be truly granted. If someone has any sort of leverage over another, especially in a corporate, high-profile setting such as this one, this imbalance can lead to a subordinate’s decisions being rooted in an attempt to protect their position, reputation and even safety—not because they actually want to take part in the superior’s advances.

It is no question  Udoka is a talented, respected coach within the world of basketball. However, none of that justifies the fact he violated his contractual agreements, violations and subsequent punishment that Udoka himself agreed to and even apologized for.

With so many unknown details about this case, it is the public’s responsibility to take what we do know and utilize it to project empathy for those involved—a takeaway emphasized by the Celtics’ front office.

Though the response from the Celtics organization does ignite a hopeful spark for a change in precedent, they should not be heroized. Protecting the livelihood of women and those affected by sexual misconduct should always be a priority, not just when money and reputation are on the line.

Shanti Furtado can be reached at [email protected] or on Twitter @ShantiFurtado.