Salut, je voulais des témoignages : est-ce que vous aussi, quand vous mettez un préservatif, vous ne sentez plus rien et vous êtes obligés de beaucoup vous forcer pour atteindre l’orgasme (mais vraiment le latex sur la peau enlève toutes sensations) ?
For years, whispers have circulated through the psytrance community about the dark underbelly of Ozora Festival: the sexual assaults, the harassment, the rapes that happen in the shadows while the music blares and the crowd dances. Victims speak quietly among themselves, afraid to come forward because they know nothing will happen. The festival organizers have done virtually nothing to create safe reporting mechanisms, support services, or accountability structures for survivors. Security is either absent, indifferent. Women and vulnerable attendees are left to navigate a space where aggression is normalized, where being “high” or “in the zone” is used as an excuse to ignore violations, and where speaking up means being dismissed, blamed, or silenced.
This culture of impunity must end. Ozora has built its brand on ideals of love, unity, and consciousness, yet it fails catastrophically when it comes to protecting its most vulnerable participants. There are no clear protocols for reporting assault, no dedicated safe spaces, no visible campaigns against sexual violence, and no transparent follow-up when incidents occur. Survivors are left traumatized, alone, and unheard, while perpetrators walk free, often returning year after year without consequence. This is not just negligence. By refusing to act, the festival sends a clear message: profit and image matter more than the safety and dignity of its attendees.
To every survivor who has been silenced, ignored, or made to feel small: your voice matters. What happened to you is not your fault. You deserve justice, support, and a space where you can speak without fear. We call on Ozora Festival to immediately implement concrete measures: establish a dedicated, confidential reporting system for sexual assault; train security and staff to respond appropriately and compassionately; create visible safe zones with trained support personnel; launch clear anti-harassment campaigns before and during the event; and commit to transparency by publishing annual reports on incidents and actions taken. Until these steps are taken, participating in Ozora means endorsing a system that protects abusers and abandons victims. The time for whispers is over. It’s time to speak up, stand together, and demand real change.
Apparently, the horrific moment happened during Astrix’s musical set. He kept playing and the crowd kept dancing, even though everyone had clearly seen what was going on.
I think that’s ugly; I expected better from the trance crowd.
To me, it feels truly inhuman and horrible to keep dancing as if nothing were wrong in the middle of such a moment. It’s as if people chose to switch off their empathy and carry on with the party, ignoring the gravity of what was unfolding right in front of them.
That kind of collective indifference is hard to swallow. In a scene that often talks about unity, consciousness and connection, seeing people dance through something like this feels like a betrayal of those values.
Honestly, it really fits the mentality of Ozora: just a bunch of wealthy people who couldn’t care less about others dying right in front of their eyes.