For nearly three decades, Susan Blackburn has dedicated her life to the healing art of massage therapy. With almost 30 years of experience, she understands more than most the profound importance of social affective touch—the kind found in a compassionate hand on a shoulder or a therapeutic session. This type of connection has been shown to reduce social isolation, a vital service in our increasingly disconnected world.
The Healing Power and Personal Refuge of Touch
Blackburn has witnessed firsthand how a painfully contracted body can release into a state of ease during a session, creating a pathway for the mind to find peace. She observes breathing patterns change as the nervous system downshifts, tissues soften and expand, and tension melts from a client's face.
For her, the work is deeply personal. In her early 20s, she was an introverted and highly sensitive individual grappling with the monumental loss of her mother. Massage sessions became a refuge, offering safety and comfort for her body in a way that talk therapy could not. She explains that skilled bodywork helps clients build interoceptive skills—the ability to notice and tolerate internal body sensations.
Dr. Cynthia Price of the University of Washington, whom Blackburn has trained with, has found through research that better interoceptive skills lead to a stronger sense of agency over one’s well-being and improved emotional regulation. Blackburn strongly believes that men, in particular, need this kind of therapeutic work.
A Difficult Professional Boundary
Despite this belief, Blackburn made a significant change to her practice last year: she stopped accepting new male clients. She is quick to clarify that she has had wonderful male clients, a handful of whom she has grandfathered into her practice because she knows and trusts them.
The root of the problem, she says, is a widespread misunderstanding about the therapeutic value of touch. The fact that many businesses providing sexual services use the word “massage” to skirt the law leads some men to conflate legitimate massage therapy with sex work. She regrets the many times she had to temper her reaction to jokes about whether she provides “happy endings.”
This kind of thinking, combined with a culture of sexual repression and aggression, puts professionals in every touching field—including doctors, nurses, and physical therapists—in danger. Sex workers themselves face even greater risks of assault.
The Incident That Changed Everything
Blackburn’s decision was solidified by a traumatic incident while working at a spa. A man complaining of digestive problems asked for an abdominal massage. Although he was appropriately draped and she never touched his genitals, he ejaculated under the sheets. He showed no embarrassment and did not say a word.
This was not an involuntary physical reaction; Blackburn realized he had asked for the abdominal massage with this specific goal in mind. She was horrified and shocked, ending the session immediately. She went home, showered, and stayed in bed for the rest of the day, struggling with feelings of being manipulated and used.
She came to understand that he had put her in a situation where she was participating in his sexual experience without her consent or knowledge. He had used her for a nonconsensual sex act, even though he never touched her.
She is not alone. Online peer groups are filled with similar stories of frustration and trauma from female massage therapists dealing with inappropriate behaviour from male clients daily. Many therapists leave the field because of this issue.
The Exhausting Reality of Screening Clients
After the incident, Blackburn moved to private practice, hoping she could use screening tools and her intuition to identify men seeking sex acts. For years, she struggled with every new male inquiry.
Her process was exhaustive: She Googled them, evaluated their word choice and tone, and scrutinized their reasons for seeking care. She implemented strict boundaries, such as no same-day appointments, requiring references, and detailed intake forms. She clearly stated that any sexual requests or jokes were grounds for immediate dismissal and ensured she was never alone for a first meeting.
Yet, her boundaries would waver depending on her financial situation or feelings of security. The constant stress and anxiety she brought into her treatment space began to compete with the therapeutic benefits she could offer. She found herself annoyed simply by receiving an inquiry from a man.
Finding Peace in a New Practice Model
After a decade of discussing these challenges with her own therapist, she was finally advised to say no to men across the board and orient her practice solely toward women.
At first, she resisted. It felt unfair to the respectful men who understood professional boundaries, and she feared the financial implications of cutting her potential clientele in half. However, the mere idea of a women-only practice made her feel giddy with relief.
She thought of the men who had pushed boundaries: the Vietnam veteran who asked her to come to his secluded hunting cabin, the man who didn’t want to be draped, and the one who asked to leave via the back door. She knew how much men needed this therapy to build empathy, but it had become exhausting and unpleasant for her.
Now, she no longer worries about her safety in her own office. She doesn't have to expend extra energy wondering if a man’s trauma, misogyny, or sex addiction will surface during a session. She can simply say no.
The change has been transformative. A new client recently commented on her intake form that the women-focused practice made her feel safe and supported. Blackburn now feels safe as well, possessing a stronger sense of self and more to offer her clients. While it is sad to turn away men who would have been wonderful, she concludes that saying no was what she needed for her own healing.
