Idon't know how to describe SXSW in a way that will let you experience it with me, except to say this: Imagine everything that feels familiar being turned upside down, inside out, and painted with graffiti. Now add complimentary cocktails.

Audible transformed the Austin streets I walked as a UT undergrad into a carnival. The music venue where I spent many sweaty Texas nights on the dance floor sported a new facade and decor that turned it into a wintertime ski lodge. What has become a familiar trade show experience became a VR experience. Speakers delivered mind-expanding talks on storytelling, and panelists tackled the problem of how to maintain human creativity in a world where AI has taken a foothold. Every time I thought I had seen it all, I turned a corner to find something new.

I arrived home after the event to a flood of press releases. More than 100 musicians cancelled their performances at the festival in protest of the U.S. Army's sponsorship of the event and SXSW's official partnership with Raytheon. Most statements said the same thing: The boycott was in support of Palestine and in protest of what artists viewed as the festival's tacit approval of the U.S. military's support for Israel.

I didn't find this boycott particularly surprising coming from an artist-driven festival like SXSW (nor was I surprised by Governor Abbott's very on-brand response: “If you don't like it, don't come here.”). Artists' role in society is to force us to look in a mirror and decide if we like what we see, and the boycotting artists performed their role with aplomb. But their response to an event's actions reminded me of a question I've long wrestled with: What, if any, is the event industry's social responsibility?

Often discussions of social responsibility veer into politics, but I think that no matter where you fall on the political divide, we can find common ground. Perhaps it's simply that we all deserve to take for granted enough autonomy and safety to move through the world in the way that best serves us. And if I'm correct in my belief, what does a travel-heavy industry do about the states that wrest autonomy and safety from their citizens?

Should show organizers refuse to support the economies that go against the tenets of their corporate philosophy? Should event marketers boycott shows that take place in states it views as dangerous for its traveling employees? What if their customers are there? The invisible industry makes huge economic contributions, but does pulling out of a state sway politicians' votes in a direction that would support their state economy? Or would it do nothing more than take work away from event laborers?

I once heard an activist suggest that rather than waiting for instructions from community organizers that people respectfully and without harm just do something. And perhaps that applies here. Maybe our industry's social responsibility is to ensure we're comfortable being associated with the sponsors and partners we accept and can defend our choices. To help employees navigate the laws of their venue's state so that they feel safe being their authentic selves. To work with vendors that share our environmental commitments. To ask our employers how they will support us if we find ourselves representing our company in a state that won't provide the healthcare or medication we want or need in an emergency.

I have no delusions that I'm the first to ponder these questions nor do I have any answers. Wiser folks than I have tackled these ideas and some forward-thinking companies already have written policies in place that address them. But I do fear that what's familiar in our landscape is in danger of being turned upside down and inside out. And as an industry, we need to be prepared.E