Once upon a time, one of those men's magazines hired a team of over-80 males to be an advice column; someone left his on the train, and I perused some very entertaining letters and replies, less detailed and more direct than the feminine form of this genre, including an exchange which ended - "If you don't like her, why are you with her? Stop wasting her time!" I don't know if it lasted, and I don't remember what the magazine was, but I thought it was a great idea.
That's the kind of conversation that has to happen for there to be a real, living, fully functioning community. There has to be enough respect and self-respect that one adult male, who has and deserves respect, can say to another: you are doing the wrong thing.
Because it isn't enough for the women to do it. To do that, we have to be in a heavily biased seller's market. And, hello, reality! We're not. Let me take a sad but rather mundane, indeed universal, example from ordinary life:
I daresay it happens the other way round. It's only an illustration of the logic. Over-poetic, perhaps.
In the same way, women complaining about getting hurt will never produce better dancing. Only the fear of looking bad and incompetent in the eyes of confident and effectually dominant rival males will actually do that, in my view.