What's To Be Done With Bill Cosby?

When I was a kid my parents had a Bill Cosby comedy record. God it was funny! 

For anyone my age, Cosby was a near life-long presence, from a groundbreaking TV roll in the ‘60s to Jell-O commercials and Saturday morning cartoons in the ‘70s and ‘80s to another groundbreaking TV roll in the ‘80s and ‘90s. In a fall from grace I never could have imagined, and despite whatever legal loopholes keep him out of jail, it’s abundantly clear from mountains of evidence that Bill Cosby was privately a heinous sexual predator.

 

And so what’s to be done with his amazing career accomplishments? Comedian and commenter, Kamau Bell is trying to answer that question in his new documentary, We Need To Talk About Bill Cosby.

 

I’m creeped out enough by the courtroom testimony against Cosby, I’ll never be able to watch his old work without thinking about it. So I won’t watch. And I’m not alone. He’s been virtually excommunicated from our culture.

Likewise, Louis C.K. was once one of my favorite comedians. He rightfully also fell from grace as the MeToo movement unfolded. But on a long drive recently I listened to a streamed comedy channel that played some of his old standup. I quickly rewarmed to his comic genius and so researched his recent efforts to reenter the standup comedy world. While his initial apology was thoughtful, his recent jokes on stage about his former bad behavior are so weird, and just creepy, it makes you doubt the sincerity of that original apology. I’m back in the anti-Louis C.K. camp.

 

I watched the HBO documentary about Michael Jackson called Leaving Neverland. There can be little doubt that Michael Jackson was a child molester. But like it never happened, in 2020 Sirius Radio launched a Michael Jackson channel, and just last December the musical “MJ” premiered on Broadway.

A radio station and a Broadway musical celebrating the work of a child molester! What’s next? Will Turner Classic Movies broadcast a Harvey Weinstien film festival?

I’m reminded of the line, “Tolerating racism is racism.” Likewise, I think tolerating sexual assault encourages sexual assault.

 

I’m not saying there’s no place for redemption. In some cases, there truly should be. But what that would look like is hard to imagine. Most transgressors who have survived in the public eye don’t accept responsibility for their sins. Think Bill Clinton and Donald Trump.

 

Yes, most of Clinton’s accusations involve consensual relationships, but still he repeatedly used an unequal power dynamic to lure women into sexual relationships, and there are several accusations of forced sexual contact. Yet, when Democrats hold a convention, Clinton arrives to an affectionate standing ovation.

And with Trump it’s even worse. He spent years bragging in New York tabloids about his extra-marital affairs, made repeated ugly sexual comments to women in public, and of course was caught on tape bragging about the joys of sexually assaulting women. Nineteen women have come forward accusing him of doing just that. Yet, tens of millions of Americans didn’t care that they might be electing a sexual predator to the most powerful office in the world.

Is anything real? 

 

I’ll admit, I’m not perfect at drawing the line either.

 

With some unease, I still listen to Ryan Adams’ music. He’s one my favorite songwriters of the past 25 years. His private misdeeds also came out as a result of the MeToo movement. Apparently, he methodically established friendships with up-and-coming female artists under the pretense of acting as a mentor, when in fact he was grooming them for sexual encounters. 

One of Adams’ best-known victims was Phoebe Bridgers. She's recently built a successful music career on her own and her most memorable song, Motion Sickness, is about her relationship with Adams. In the opening lyrics she sings: “I hate you for what you did, and miss you like a little kid,” lamenting the lost, innocent joy of connecting with one of her heroes, and rightly hating him for the ugliness that lay hidden beneath the surface.

And maybe that’s what we’re all doing as we struggle and fail to make peace with the heroes whose work moved and inspired us, only to later discover they were secretly monsters.