Reflections on a fallen star
Could Bill Cosby’s #MeToo moment be the harbinger of big change?
The verdict came down last week in the Bill Cosby sexual assault trial south of the border. I think women everywhere heaved a collective sigh of relief as they thought: finally, some justice. Despite that feeling of relief, it’s not a happy moment. Bill Cosby and his humour brought laughter into the homes of families all over North America. As much as I believed him guilty, his conviction provides no joy, just a sadness for all the women who were assaulted and left without recourse due to statutory limitations, a sadness for a society where power more often than not leads to abuse, and a sadness for a lost and fallen icon in an environment bereft of heroes.
When Bill Cosby came to Hamilton, I participated in the walkout protest that was organized by Anne Bokma. It was hard for me to do, get up and walk out, face hostility from the crowd. I’m not a “protester”; I don’t march and I don’t really like crowds. I’m a writer. I figure I’m more effective marching my fingers across the keyboard, but I did say yes when asked if I wanted a ticket because I felt it was important to stand in solidarity with all the women who so bravely told their stories — the women who laid the foundation for others to stand on. The anxiety I felt was nothing compared to what women go through who stand and name their accusers. It was the least I could do.
If it hadn’t been for the women who spoke out against Bill Cosby, would Rose McGowan have found the courage to name Harvey Weinstein? Would the dam of shame holding back #MeToo accusations have burst so spectacularly without those first cracks caused by Andrea Constand and the other women who spoke their truth for years before someone believed them?
The #MeToo movement hasn’t chipped away at the edifice of male Bill Cosby leaves the the Montgomery County courthouse April 26 after being convicted of drugging and molesting a woman.
privilege as much as it has erected its own scaffolding that allows women to confront perpetrators as equals. That scaffolding is still under construction, but every accusation adds another plank to the platform, another stage erected, and brings women closer to toppling the status quo by demanding that the courts, and the culture, respond to the allegations made by women with the appropriate seriousness.
That scaffolding exists outside of the patriarchal structures that have supported society for centuries. The police have failed women and the courts have failed women, but social media, for all its problems with trolls and misogyny, has not failed women in this regard. It has, instead, provided them with the space to erect the scaffolding they’re using to challenge the status quo and a venue in which they can air their grievances. That it had to come to this is the not fault of women. It’s the fault of a system, of a society, that has failed to follow through on its most basic premise — that all humans are equal before the law. We say that, but we really don’t know what it means.
This is the crux of Believe the Women. Rather than accept the tired and worn stereotype of the aggrieved female looking for revenge, the jealous ex-girlfriend, or the regret-filled lover, believing women demands that women be considered as human beings, with the full range of rights enjoyed by men. Believing women doesn’t mean ignore facts or don’t
investigate accusations. Women are subject to the same foibles and failings that men are: pride, deceit, envy, lust for power; but no more, nor no less than men. Our culture expects and punishes these characteristics in women, yet encourages and rewards the same qualities in men. Look no further than the current president of the United States for a prime example.
As I write this, news hit the web that former NBC News anchor Tom Brokaw is the latest prominent man to be hit with #MeToo accusations. But not to worry, Charlie Rose, the disgraced and former CBS anchor, recently pitched a show to TV networks premised on interviewing men such as Louis CK and Matt Lauer, men similarly disgraced and shamed, as part of the #MeToo backlash.
Matt Lauer has taken his defence to People Magazine, claiming all contact was consensual. No one has said: I was wrong and I’m sorry. I was caught up in the stew of toxic masculinity. I was taught to believe that women were put on earth solely for male pleasure, but I have learned my lesson. How can I help solve this problem?
That’s not so hard now, is it?