That’s their mom,A grieving mother on the surface for everyone to see but ruthless (and racist) on the inside. Also, I’m thinking the apple doesn’t fall far from the…

….tree
That’s their mom,A grieving mother on the surface for everyone to see but ruthless (and racist) on the inside. Also, I’m thinking the apple doesn’t fall far from the…

….tree
Right, so. I’m angry all over again and I’m going to be angry for a while, because if I see one more idiot defending the rape scene over the fact that “that was just what happened in medieval times,” I am going to put a brick through my computer screen. This won’t be as long or as in-depth as I want it to be, since I have to go to work soon, but my medieval historian buttons have been pushed to a sufficient degree that I have to make some response to all this. So without further ado:
Feminists say that if they walk around naked and get raped, it’s not their fault. Let me ask you this, if you owned a bank and left the doors wide open with no security and you got robbed in the middle of the night, is it the robbers fault or yours?
Literally the robber’s fault??? They walked in and took something that wasn’t theirs??? They knew pretty well that they shouldn’t steal things??? What is your argument even trying to prove???
Exactly
If the door is wide open, then it’s the fault of the one who left it open, knowing someone would take what was inside if they came across it.
yes except people aren’t banks and we don’t have doors. when a crime is committed it doesn’t matter how careless or whatever you want to argue the victim was. what matters is that someone made the conscious choice to not care about how their actions would affect another person.
it doesn’t matter if the door was open or if a person is naked. what matters is that a crime was committed. enough with the analogies, we aren’t banks. we’re people.
But in addition to what it had, there was what “The Cosby Show” lacked: Any suggestion that white people were culpable in the history of racism that the show addressed mostly through reference to mid-twentieth-century activism. White audiences were never made to feel bad about themselves or confront any hard questions about how they had benefitted from American systems from which black Americans had not benefitted. White fans never were forced to wrestle with the question of what made this brownstone-dwelling African American family so exceptional. Rather, we were consciously invited to consider them a new normal. It was its own purposeful message, and not inherently a bad one. But it did permit white Americans to buy into one of their fondest (and falsest) wishes: to consider the sins of the past as past and believe that true racial parity was not only possible but perhaps upon us.
In 1992, researchers Sut Jhally and Justin Lewis wrote a book, Enlightened Racism. After researching audience reaction, they argued that “The Cosby Show,” while ushering in “an era in which white audiences can accept TV programs with more than just an occasional ‘token’ black character,” was also part of a television culture “directly culpable for providing an endless slew of apocryphal stories that sustain a cultural refusal to deal with class inequalities and the racial character of those inequalities.”
These themes of Cosby’s work would become more explicit a decade after “The Cosby Show” went off the air, when the comedian embarked on a speaking tour in which he told black audiences that the kinds of hardships they faced were of their own making, that high rates of poverty, drug use and incarceration had nothing to do with policy or policing practices, but rather with failures of black culture and black parents. “Systemic racism, they call it,” Cosby said derisively, “it’s not what [the white man]’s doing to you; it’s what you’re not doing.”
Here was the white blamelessness that made his television such a balm to white audiences, writ all too real. It was an approach that earned him sharp criticism from some black critics like Dyson and Coates. But perhaps because this framing of race in America still served as a palliative to lots of Americans, it somehow never resulted in a mass reevaluation of Cosby’s work by white critics or by many African American leaders, some of whom, to Dyson’s dismay, stood uncritically onstage with Cosby as he chided New Orleans residents who’d been dislocated and disenfranchised after Katrina about their behaviors and moral failings from before the storm.
Over the course of the past decade, charges that Cosby drugged and sexually assaulted more than a dozen women have been reported in plenty of splashy venues: in Newsweek and Gawker, on-camera on “The Today Show” in 2005; in People magazine in 2006. During the same years, esteemed journalists including Kevin Merida and Ta-Nehisi Coates have dissected the racial messages that Cosby has been delivering around the country. Scholar Michael Eric Dyson even wrote a book about it.
Yet much of this stuff has remained unacknowledged in the context of Cosby celebration. He’s received an NAACP Image Award and the Kennedy Center’s Mark Twain Award; a year ago, Jon Stewart concluded an interview with Cosby by noting “This man is the best,” and this year, upon presenting him with a Lifetime Achievement Award, Chris Rock called him “the greatest comedian to ever live.”
How, my students wondered, was it possible for such incendiary material to be both public and simultaneously hidden from view, as Tom Scocca put it earlier this year, “something walled off from our collective understanding of Bill Cosby”?
There are lots of answers to this question: that, as Scocca posited, “nobody wanted to live in a world where Bill Cosby was a sexual predator”; that, as Brittney Cooper recently suggested in Salon, “We are not a society given to slaying our patriarchs”; that as Newsweek reporter Katie Baker told Amanda Hess in February, Cosby’s accusers were “imperfect victims, as victims so often are.” There’s also the fact that Chris Rock’s superlatives aren’t so far off the mark: Bill Cosby is one of the greatest comedians, a man who 30 years ago, as Kelefa Sanneh recently wrote in The New Yorker, created “a great sitcom, perhaps a perfect sitcom.”
…What’s more, America’s terrible history of discrediting black men via charges of sexual misconduct was precisely the kind of thing that might lead white liberals to not want to engage such loaded allegations about a black man who had assuaged their guilt over precisely this kind of history. To wrestle with the merits of those charges—the kinds that have too often been deployed falsely to justify everything from lynching to stand your ground laws—would force America to acknowledge that deeply set, incredibly complicated patterns of injustice around race and sex and power are far from erased. It would also force us to concede that, in this case, they might not be false.
This is a blog post that’s incredibly confusing and painful for me to write.
Yesterday morning, Josh forwarded me a tweet that said:
TIL: Max Temkin, co-creator of Cards Against Humanity, raped a friend of my friend while attending Goucher College. I don’t support CAH.
We assumed this was someone making a tasteless joke, and I replied to tell him that it wasn’t funny. But after some more digging, I found a Facebook post from a girl I knew in college accusing me of sexually assaulting her, and urging people to boycott Cards Against Humanity.
This is totally, patently false. I have never sexually assaulted anyone, or previously been accused of any kind of assault.
I had a really brief relationship with this girl in college; her dorm room was next to mine, and after a few evenings staying up talking all night, we made out. We spent a few nights in each others’ rooms, but we never had sex and neither of us pressured the other into doing anything we weren’t comfortable with. After a few nights, I broke things off in the cowardly way that 19-year-old guys do, and I just stopped returning her calls and texts. I can imagine she was hurt by this, I know that I would be hurt if someone broke up with me that way.
I haven’t spoken to this girl in nearly ten years. If she felt I did something wrong in our relationship that she never confronted me about it or brought the issue to the school.
But yesterday, as near as I can tell, she saw a newspaper article about me in the Baltimore Sun, and made a Facebook post attacking me and Cards Against Humanity:
Several people that I went to school with have posted a Baltimore Sun article from 2012 about the success of Cards Against Humanity, a popular indie party game created by a Goucher alum.
That is my rapist.
Having his face pop up on my news feed unexpectedly in any context has the capacity to ruin my day. Seeing him praised in the press is giving me a panic attack.
He should not be held as a good example of the excellence that Goucher grads have, can and will continue to achieve.
Her more recent posts have called for a boycott of my work, and she (or her friends) started a Twitter account to tweet at celebrities and organizations that I work with calling me a rapist.
Part of rape culture that hurts everyone is that it makes it difficult to talk about what is and is not consent, and makes it incredibly scary for people to speak up when their boundaries are crossed. It is entirely possible she read something completely different than I did into an awkward college hookup. If any part of that was traumatic for her, I am sincerely sorry, and I wish we would have had a chance to address it privately. I’ve sent her an email and a Facebook message and given her my contact information, but so far I haven’t heard back (but she did edit her post to remove my name).
I spoke with my lawyer, and she thinks I have a clear case to sue this woman for libel and get a restraining order, but I have no desire to bully or harm her. Additionally, I’m not wild about the precedent that sets for other women to come forward in cases of actual sexual assault.
I have made a career on the incredible power of social media, and the radical new ability that we all have to say whatever we want to a mass audience. Today I can’t help but feel hurt by those same tools that I love.
There is no evidence for this story. I will never have a chance to defend myself. The structure of the modern internet is such that these things never reach resolution and never go away. This is just baseless gossip that will now haunt me for the rest of my life.
Here’s what’s going to happen moving forward: