Defending Cosby
Many people have long loved Bill Cosby, for his abilities as an entertainer, his attractive persona or, in some cases, his penchant for blaming young black people for their difficulties. And many—although fewer each week—of these people have been so deeply troubled by the multiple accusations of sexual violence against Cosby that they have rushed to his defense. Their responses to the accusations have echoed two themes that are quite common when women accuse men of rape.
First, many of the accusers have themselves been accused of lying, of making up stories about Cosby. The motives attributed to these women are varied—some have been said to be gold diggers who either hope for an out of court financial settlement of the kind Cosby gave to Andrea Constand or who hope to parlay their accusation into a magazine or book deal. (The statute of limitations for both criminal and civil actions have in almost most cases long past so an out of court settlement is an unlikely motive. There have, so far, been no reports of anyone getting rich through magazine articles or books.) Some have been accused of seeking revenge on Cosby after their hopes for a romantic relationship were dashed. And some have been accused of just being attention seekers.
This first line of attack has been supplemented by a second. Critics of the accusers have repeatedly asked why we should believe them since many of them have waited 20, 30, or even 40 years to accuse Cosby. For the defenders of Cosby, this means that the accusers must be lying because if Cosby had attacked them they would have reported it to the police or some other authority. (What is rarely mentioned is that most of Cosby’s accusers did tell friends about the attacks years ago.) And it also means that these women are only coming forward, one after another, in order to get their share of the money and attention that is now available to them given the new and old new media’s growing interest in the charges.
Those of us who have educated ourselves about rape and the personal, legal, and political circumstances that surround it are not surprised that these women did not make their accusations when the attacks happened. We know that the best estimate is that only 20% of women who are raped report their experience to the police and that many of them don’t tell anyone, not even their friends and families about what happened to them. And we also know that it is commonplace for accusations of rape to be doubted, far more than other accusations of crime or malfeasance. And, for that reason, we are not only far more inclined to believe the accusers but are horrified as once again, female victims of sexual violence are having their veracity and motives challenged, sometimes in vicious ways.
Is there anything more to be said about this conflict between those whose intuitions about this case are shaped by both some affection or respect for Bill Cosby and the ready availability of these standards ways of dismissing accusations of rape, on the one hand, and those of us whose intuitions about this case are shaped by a concern about both the prevalence of rape and the continued failure if communities, institutions and the legal system to protect women or punish rapists?
On the question of Cosby’s guilt or innocence, there probably is little more to be said until further evidence accumulates—and as the number of accusations increase by a few a week, this might continue for some time. But we have no reason to believe that 22 or 23 women are now all lying about Bill Cosby. There is no plausible explanation for their repeated and similar accusations other than that he is a serial sexual criminal. One can find reports that cast doubt on the stories of some of the women. And one can find reasons to challenge some of their motives. But it is impossible to discredit or challenge all of them or the stories coming out about people who had an inkling, or more, about Cosby’s proclivities all along and chose to look away.
What interests me more is a second question: why so many women don’t report rapes to the police or, if they are in college, to the college authorities. I don’t have a great deal to add on this subject for those who have thought about it. And, for those who haven’t the best way to understand the answer to this question is to do what I’ve been doing over the last few weeks, reading as many personal testimonies I could find of people who have been raped and who explain why they did not report the crime. (I’ve also talked to a couple of friends who have been raped to get their perspective as well.) Particularly good examples are this post by Liz Spikol or this anonymous one by or this one by a woman known only as Elizabeth or this one by Emily Yellin. But there are many, many others one could choose from.
For those who learn more by reading analyses than narratives, I want to summarize what I’ve learned from those stories, and also to put this issue in a little broader context by drawing on some research I’ve been doing to point to how traditional ideas about sexuality shape the way many women today experience not only rape but the aftermath of rape and why, as a result, it difficult for women to talk about and report rape.
Traditional Ideas of Sexuality and the Double Standard
Among all the discussions of why women don’t report rape—and in particular, why those women who Cosby drugged and violated didn’t report him—I’ve seen a number of people¸ including those attacked by Cosby, say that they were ashamed of what happened.
What exactly does that mean, however? Perhaps the answer to this question is obvious to many of you reading this. But I’ve certainly seen enough people for whom it’s not obvious that perhaps what women who say this need to be listened to more closely and what they say understood in the context of what sexuality is and has been in our culture.
Sexual asceticism has been part of Western Civilization for our entire history and it was intensified in the early modern period when a new kind of sexual double standard came into existence. Nor, fifty years after the sexual revolution and the second wave of feminism, is it entirely gone.
Outside of Christian teaching and communities, men have always been encouraged to pursue pre-marital sex without romantic and emotional commitment. And women were condemned for doing so. And even at a time when pre-marital sexuality was beginning to be commonplace, as it was forty year ago, or when it is entirely commonplace, as it is now, the double standard lives on in how the sexuality of women is examined and evaluated, and not just by men. Women are still slut-shamed if, in the eyes of their critics, they show too much interest in sex, have sex too often, or with the wrong person or for the wrong reason or of the wrong kind. The reasons women are slut shamed may differ from one group to another but the practice remains in place. Even if women are not always expected to be sexually reticent, to keep their distance from men or from potentially “compromising” situations, they can still criticized when they don’t live up to that whatever standard some individual or group uses to determine appropriate female sexual behavior. And much of the time slut-shamers don’t even need reasons. They condemn women for their sexuality just because that’s one of the ways in which one puts women in their place.
Men, it goes without saying, never are condemned in that way—and if we are, many of us take it as a compliment.
This double standard is deeply embedded in our culture in some part because it is rooted in an understanding of sexuality that goes back to ancient times but that was intensified in early modernity, where it was held not only by Protestant theologians but secular theorists like Smith and Rousseau (and much later Freud, at least in some of his moods.). This view holds that female chastity is the necessary means by which anarchic male sexuality is channeled into marriage. Men, on the traditional conception, pretty much can’t help pursuing all women all the time. Thus they only will marry and stay married if women deny them sex before and outside of marriage. This theory is ultimately what stands behind the right wing attack on contraception, abortion, and homosexuality. The right fears unfettered female sexuality because it believes that no man will marry and support his family if he can have sex outside of marriage. Sex without the consequences of pregnancy makes that more likely. From this point of view it is ultimately up to women to create the fetters on male sexuality that are critical to the survival of marriage and the family.
Condemnation of female sexual freedom, then, is thus not a weird tick of contemporary right wing zealots. It’s at the core of their worldview. And their worldview is ours—it is the view held by most of the religious and secular philosophers who helped bring our modern world into existence.
This theory has a lot of pernicious consequences besides the political ones. It’s one of the reasons that women, and to a lesser degree, men feel guilty about their sexuality. It’s why women and men both have difficulty talking about sex. It’s one of the reasons that alcohol plays an inordinate role in the sexual lives of young people. It would not as necessary to sexual exploration if men and women, were willing to acknowledge and express their sexual desires and respect those desires in others, and especially women. It’s a main reason that men are still more likely to pursue sex and women are more hesitant.
And it’s one reason that men sometimes act out their role in the traditional narrative by pressing women, sometimes to the point of violence, for sex. The notion that male sexuality is so powerful a force that men cannot resist it legitimates men in the aggressive pursuit of sex. And it encourages men—and women—to think that it is role of women to resist. Indeed, on the traditional theory, the aggressive pursuit of sex by men is essentially a test of the virtue of women.
This theory also explains why slut shaming is so common. When men (and women) engage in slut shaming they are not just putting individual women down, they are drawing on a long tradition of thought to do so. And in doing so, they are reinforcing the implicit ideas and ideals about female sexuality that continue to do so much damage today.
The Double Standard and the Experience of Rape
And so when a woman is attacked sexually, the voices of traditional morality in her head lead her to blame herself for what has happened to her. Even if she has more or less freed herself from that traditional view of sexuality, she can’t help but hearing its voice. The voice of authority always rings louder in our ears when we are hurt and vulnerable. And it inclines women who are raped to wonder and worry whether their own sexual inclinations and behavior led to their being attacked.
And even if a woman doesn’t blame herself when she is raped, she knows that the voice of traditional morality in her head is one that is widely shared. She knows that in accusing a man of raping her, she is going to suffer from slut-shaming attacks on her actions and character. She knows she is going to be blamed by someone—and possibly by friends and family members—for putting herself in a dangerous situation or for leading a man on or for changing her mind or for acting in some other supposedly dubious way. And that blame will draw on traditional ideas about female sexuality. When it is believe that the virtue of women is found in their ability to resist the aggressive sexuality of men—as it still is implicitly understood by too many of us—women who charge that they have been raped are always suspected of trying to cover up their own lack of virtue.
Given this background it would be difficult for a woman who is raped not to feel ashamed of what has happened to her. She might not feel guilt—we feel guilty when we fail to live up to our own ideals. But shame is about living up to the ideals of our culture and a woman who has been sexually attacked is likely to worry that those ideals, in their traditional form, will condemn her for the very simple reason that will.
Other Difficulties Reporting Rape and Traditional Sexual Ideas
Of course, feeling ashamed of being raped isn’t the only barrier to a woman reporting to the police or other authorities that she has been raped.
There is also the widely known disinterest of the police in pursuing rape cases; the unpleasant medical tests one women have to undergo; the hours of painful questions they have to answer from the police (and here is a good first person account that shows why this can be so difficult), other authorities, friends, and family; the possibly hazy memories they have of the attack because of the trauma of the attack itself, alcohol or drug consumption or simple exhaustion; and the fear of retaliation, especially but not only when the rapist is a friend or spouse. And don’t forget that Cosby’s M.O. is not that uncommon. Men often use drugs or alcohol as a way of overpowering women. And that not only can make it difficult for women to know exactly what has happened to them, but can create doubts that reinforce their sense of shame.
These barriers are very well known. Read any of the memoir literature of women who have been raped and they mention them all.
And note that many of these barriers to reporting a sexual attack are made more powerful by traditional ideas about female sexuality. For it partly explains why not only the police and the courts but friends and family are distrustful of women who report rapes.
Rape and Powerful Men and Institutions
All these reasons partly explain why women so rarely report rape—and why challenging and transforming the sexual culture that makes women ashamed of being sexually violated is an absolutely critical task today.
And there is one other reason women don’t report rape, one that is especially important when it comes to the women attacked by Bill Cosby.
Bill Cosby was protected by his fame and his power. The sterling, avuncular reputation created by the characters he played protected him from being reported for his crimes. Even today, after more than twenty women have accused him, people who should know better don’t want to think of Bill Cosby as a serial rapist. Others understand the overwhelming nature of the evidence against him but don’t want to admit it publicly.
Imagine how Cosby’s reputation it would have affected the perception of the police and the public if a woman had accused him of rape ten, twenty, and thirty years ago, when he was at top of his career and we were even more unwilling to listen to accusations of rape than we are today. Imagine if she were the first one to do so. Well, we don’t really have to imagine. The accusations of the women who came forward seven years ago were not believed by most of the people who heard them. The one case that went to court was quickly settled and then the matter was swept under the table. Cosby’s money enabled him to make a quick settlement and his position and status enabled him to quash a number of newspaper and magazine accounts of his behavior.
And it wasn’t just his reputation that stood in the way, it was his power in the entertainment industry. The entire industry was smitten with Cosby. Everyone wanted to work with him and be his friend. He was the golden goose for executives and producers and co-stars and sponsors. There is some reason to suspect that many of those them who were close to Cosby knew something about what he was doing. But they all looked away.
Most of the women he attacked wanted a career in show business. Think about the costs to their career of publicly accusing Cosby then. How easy would it have been for Cosby to just call a producer or executive and tell them to just delete some young women out of their address book? How many casting directors, directors, producers, and executives would have done that without even being asked, just so as to avoid offending Cosby?
And they were not just protecting this one golden goose. They were also protecting their institutions. Suppose Cosby had been raped a woman on the premises of NBC and she went to the human relations department of the network? If the women were listened to at all, she might have been hand over to a nice, well-meaning counselor who would dollop out a great deal of sympathy, would be offered the no doubt sensible advice not to make waves and to accept a transfer to somewhere she could escape from Cosby’s attention. That would be the best possible outcome. It’s just as likely that she would lose her position and much hope of further employment in the field. Either way, NBC would act first and foremost with the aim of protecting its reputation and that of its biggest star.
How do we know that this would have been the result? Because that’s what the institutions that actually have a clear responsibility for taking care of those within them—American colleges—have been doing year after year for decades to the students whose well-being they are supposed to protect..
Cosby is a special case. He had an almost unique kind of fame and fortune. But there are powerful men everywhere in every walks of life, men who head law firms or accounting firms or hospitals or who hold political office or hold tenured chairs at great universities. They, too, are widely respected. They, too, have within their own worlds a great deal of power. They, too, can rely on rely that power, exercised under their direction or by others who want to curry favor with them, to make life difficult for a woman who accuses them of rape or other sexual violence. Thus they, too, often act with impunity, harassing and assaulting women with whom they interact in their spheres of life. And if a woman does object, these men are also protected by functionaries whose main concern is to protect the institutions and those who hold important positions in them from scandal.
Acting to Stop Rape
So for all these reason, women are very reluctant to turn either to the police or to authorities at work or school when they are reaped. And while putting rapist in jail is not the only way to punish them, we can’t punish or reeducate rapists—and stop them from raping again which is their usual pattern, unless they are brought to justice in some way.
That’s why it so imperative that we act together to change the calculation for women who are raped. We—friends, families, the police, work and school authorities—need to stop the slut shaming and the victim blaming. We need to provide both real support and a real investigation of their charges. Institutions need to focus on stopping and punishing rape not protecting their reputation.
And that is true, whether one is concerned with the over-extension of the criminal justice system or not. Even though I am concerned the horrible consequences of the drug war in leading to mass over-incarceration, that doesn’t excuse the inability and unwillingness of our criminal justice system to investigate and prosecute rape in a way that encourages women to come forward. Even if you think that community based punishment for rapists is much preferable to incarceration, we still have to actually investigate rape and catch rapists for that kind of response to rape to be effective.
None of this will happen, however, if don’t keep challenging the traditional assumptions about men, women, and sexuality that underlie slut-shaming and victim-blaming.