Silicon Valley 'whisper network' flags 100+ men for alleged sexual misconduct

Multiple women report alleged sexual assault, rape, drugging, and unwanted advances; victims fear professional retaliation and blacklisting if they pursue formal justice.
We invested together. We did business together.
A woman describing why people refused to help her locate a man she accused of assault at a hacker house.
Mark

So this spreadsheet—is it actually being used as a warning system, or is it more like a record of what happened?

Mimi

It's both. Women add names and allegations so that other women know who to be careful around. It's informal intelligence.

Luke

But we should be clear: the spreadsheet itself hasn't been independently verified. We know it exists and what people say is on it, but we don't know the accuracy of individual allegations.

Mark

Right. And the women are sharing it privately because they're afraid of retaliation. That's the real story—not just that misconduct happened, but that the system makes it unsafe to report.

Mimi

Exactly. A woman told The Post she feared being blacklisted by every investor in town if she reported and lost. That's not paranoia. That's how the ecosystem actually works.

Luke

Though we should note that's her assessment of the risk, not something that's been documented as a pattern. It's a reasonable fear given how interconnected the industry is, but it's not the same as proving it happens.

Mark

The hacker house stories are interesting because they show different responses. Genesis had one outcome, Launch House had another.

Mimi

And that difference matters. It shows that accountability is possible—but it depends entirely on who's in charge and what they choose to do.

Luke

The Genesis founder's lawyer said he was unaware of the situation. We don't know if that's true or what he would have done if he'd known. Launch House's response was documented and clear.

Mark

So what changes? Does this spreadsheet lead to anything, or does it just stay private?

Mimi

That's the question no one can answer yet. It's a workaround, not a solution.

  • A hidden spreadsheet naming over 100 men in Silicon Valley's tech and AI elite has become the primary safety infrastructure for women who believe formal reporting would end their careers.
  • The ecosystem's density — where today's investor is tomorrow's board member and yesterday's housemate — means a single allegation can collapse an entire professional life, keeping victims silent and allegations unverified.
  • At 'hacker houses,' where founders and investors live, work, and socialize under one roof, the collapse of boundaries between home and workplace has created conditions where assault can be followed by a house vote rather than a police call.
  • One woman who reported an alleged rape to police in December 2021 found the accused had left the region and remains unlocated, while many mutual colleagues declined to assist, citing shared business ties.
  • Where some communities failed, others acted swiftly — one hacker house expelled an accused member immediately after women came forward together, suggesting that institutional response is possible but inconsistent.
  • The spreadsheet stands as both a workaround and an indictment: women have built a parallel justice system precisely because the formal one feels too costly to enter.

In the tightly woven world of Silicon Valley, where capital and ambition bind people together across offices, dinner tables, and shared residences, more than a hundred women have quietly assembled a record of alleged harm — a private spreadsheet naming investors, founders, and executives accused of misconduct ranging from unwanted advances to rape. The document circulates in whispers rather than courtrooms because the women who hold it have made a painful calculation: that speaking formally risks more than silence. What has emerged is not merely an accounting of alleged wrongs, but a portrait of a community where the architecture of professional power has made accountability feel more dangerous than the misconduct itself.

A private spreadsheet, shared quietly among women in Silicon Valley, lists the names of more than 100 men accused of sexual misconduct — investors, executives, entrepreneurs, and employees at prominent technology and AI firms. The allegations range from unwanted advances to drugging, assault, and rape. The document remains unverified and deliberately hidden, passed along only through informal networks of trust.

The secrecy is not accidental. Silicon Valley's professional ecosystem is unusually dense: investors fund the startups where founders later become investors themselves, and a single influential name can determine whether a career advances or stalls. Women who know of the spreadsheet say they share information privately because the cost of going public feels too high. One woman in her twenties described recognizing prominent names on the list — famous investors, well-known businessmen she had seen at industry events — before adding her own account. Another explained her reluctance to file a formal report: if she came forward and lost, she feared being blacklisted by every investor in the region.

Some of the alleged incidents took place at 'hacker houses' — communal residences in the Bay Area where founders, investors, and tech workers live and build professional relationships side by side. The blurring of home and workplace creates particular vulnerabilities. Yehong Zhu, founder of the app Zette, has spoken publicly about an alleged rape involving a former resident of the Genesis hacker house. She reported it to police in December 2021, but the man left the area and has not been found. When she sought help from people who knew him, many refused, citing shared investments and business dealings. A house organizer had earlier discouraged her from going to police, suggesting instead that residents vote on whether the man should be removed.

Not every community responded that way. A former resident of Launch House described suspecting she had been drugged at a gathering — experiencing memory gaps, chills, and an inability to move — and later learning a friend had helped her to bed. When she and other women approached the founders together about the same man, he was removed immediately. Launch House co-founder Brett Goldstein noted the organization no longer operates in its previous form and that its safety procedures had been developed with outside experts.

The contrast between these responses illuminates the larger problem. When professional ties, social bonds, and living arrangements all overlap, the pathways to accountability become tangled or disappear entirely. The spreadsheet, circulating in private, has become both a practical solution and a quiet indictment — evidence that women have constructed their own system of warning and record-keeping because the formal systems available to them carry risks they are not willing to bear.

A private spreadsheet circulating quietly among women in Silicon Valley contains the names of more than 100 men accused of sexual misconduct, according to reporting by The New York Post. The document lists investors, entrepreneurs, executives, and employees at major technology and artificial intelligence firms. The allegations recorded range from unwanted advances and drugging to sexual assault and rape. The spreadsheet itself remains private and unverified, shared only among women who have learned of its existence through informal networks.

The decision to keep the list hidden reflects a calculation born from fear. Women familiar with the network say they circulate information discreetly because of concerns about professional retaliation. Silicon Valley's ecosystem is tightly woven—investors fund startups, executives become board members, founders become investors themselves. An allegation involving someone influential can ripple outward, affecting funding rounds, job prospects, and the professional relationships that sustain careers in the region. One woman in her 20s who works in technology said she was struck by how many prominent names appeared on the list. She learned about the network only after asking other women directly about their experiences. "Some of them were very prominent names, you know? People who were famous investors. Businessmen who were in the scene, I had seen them at parties before," she said. She eventually added her own account to the spreadsheet.

The fear of retaliation runs deep enough to deter formal reporting. Another woman explained her hesitation to pursue official channels: she worried that if she reported her case and lost, she would be blacklisted by every investor in the region. That calculation—the risk of speaking up outweighing the risk of silence—keeps allegations in private documents rather than police reports or human resources departments.

Some of the incidents documented in the spreadsheet allegedly occurred at so-called hacker houses, communal residences in the San Francisco Bay Area where founders, investors, and technology workers live together, socialize, and build professional connections. These spaces blur the line between home and workplace in ways that create particular vulnerabilities. Residents can become colleagues, business partners, investors, or gatekeepers to future employment. Yehong Zhu, founder of the app Zette, has spoken publicly about an alleged rape and assault involving a former resident of the Genesis hacker house. She reported the matter to police in December 2021. The man subsequently left the area and has not been located or arrested. Zhu said she repeatedly told him no. She also said a house organizer discouraged her from going to police, instead proposing that the house form a committee and hold a vote on whether the man should be removed. Zhu eventually contacted law enforcement and lawyers and reached out to people who knew the man, hoping to locate him. Many declined to help. "We invested together. We did business together," she said of those who refused. A lawyer for Genesis founder Jeremy Nixon told The Post that Nixon was unaware of the specific situation but said he would support law enforcement and prioritize safety.

Not all hacker houses responded the same way. A former resident of Launch House described what happened after she suspected she had been drugged at a gathering. She experienced gaps in her memory, chills, sweating, and an inability to move. She later learned that a friend had helped her to bed. Other women reported unwanted advances by the same man. When the group approached the founders together, the response was swift. "They got rid of him immediately, he was kicked out of the house," she said. Launch House co-founder Brett Goldstein said the organization no longer operates in its previous form and that its conduct policies and incident-response procedures were developed with outside HR and safety experts. He acknowledged that anyone running an in-person community has a responsibility to continuously improve safety.

These accounts have drawn renewed attention to how reporting and safety function—or fail to function—within tightly connected technology communities. When professional relationships, social bonds, and residential arrangements all overlap, the pathways for accountability become unclear. A woman can fear that reporting will end her career. A house organizer can suggest a vote instead of police involvement. An investor can decline to help locate an accused person. The spreadsheet, in this context, represents both a solution and an indictment: women have created their own system of information-sharing because the formal systems available to them feel too risky to use.

Some of them were very prominent names, you know? People who were famous investors. Businessmen who were in the scene, I had seen them at parties before.
— A technology worker in her 20s, describing names on the spreadsheet
I was worried that if I tried for justice in my case and I lost, I would be blacklisted from every investor in town.
— A woman explaining why she did not pursue formal reporting
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