It’s been almost a year since The New York Times and The New Yorker broke their Weinstein stories, ushering in something of a revolution. In the months that followed, hundreds of survivors — from Hollywood and beyond — came forward to tell their stories with the hashtag #MeToo. These stories shed light on a pervasive culture of abuse and misogyny in the entertainment industry — and in society at-large. What was once considered par for the course even five years ago finally started being recognized as unacceptable and abhorrent.
But how much has changed since this time last year?
Just this weekend, Brett Kavanaugh was confirmed to the Supreme Court, despite allegations that he sexually assaulted two women: Dr. Christine Blasey Ford in high school and Deborah Ramirez in college. Dr. Ford testified in front of the Senate Judiciary committee nearly two weeks ago, following a series of events bearing eerie resemblance to Anita Hill’s testimony twenty-seven years ago that Justice Clarence Thomas — who was yet to be confirmed then — had sexually harassed her while they worked together.
Even as the hashtag #BelieveSurvivors trends on Twitter, much of this country is failing to do just that.
Responses to Ford’s and Kavanaugh’s testimonies show that, despite the year of #MeToo, women with credible accusations are still subjected to vicious public scrutiny. Even as the hashtag #BelieveSurvivors trends on Twitter, much of this country is failing to do just that.
Even after Ford bravely detailed her trauma in front of the senate and the nation, even after Kavanaugh’s former classmates came forward claiming he mischaracterized himself at the senate hearing, and even after women screamed their stories at a senator who scurried to an elevator to avoid them, Kavanaugh was still confirmed.
Our senators failed to hold Kavanaugh accountable.
There has been very little accountability for abusers in Hollywood, too. Les Moonves and Roy Price may have stepped down from CBS and Amazon respectively, but Louis C.K.’s attempt to make a comeback was met with applause in New York a couple months ago. In 2010, two women — a producer and a cinematographer — who worked on Casey Affleck’s I’m Still Here accused the actor-director of sexually harassing them during the film’s production. The claims were settled out of court, but in 2017, Affleck won a Golden Globe and an Academy Award. Bill Cosby, who was sentenced to three-to-ten years in prison last month, was the “first celebrity of the #MeToo era” to be held legally accountable for assault. But allegations against him go back decades. It took more than fifty years and dozens of women coming forward before justice was served.
This lack of accountability is partly rooted in our cultural tendency to separate artists from their harmful actions — or worse, to make excuses for artists’ abuses precisely because they are artists.
This lack of accountability is partly rooted in our cultural tendency to separate artists from their harmful actions — or worse, to make excuses for artists’ abuses precisely because they are artists. We love their movies, their books, and their jokes. We grew up with them. We identify with them.
But it’s time we for us to empathize and identify with those who have been harmed and silenced by these abusive artists.
In order to do justice to these individuals, we must not only #BelieveSurvivors, but also be willing to take responsibility for changing the culture that makes sexual violence and harassment so commonplace.
#MeToo is not a moment — it’s a movement, and it’s still unfolding. Time is not yet up. But it could be soon.
Now is the time for journalists and critics to do their part. We are responsible for fostering a critical discourse surrounding art. In order to fulfill that responsibility, we must address allegations and take into account how abuses of power influence the production and reception of art.
As an arts journalist and critic, I believe that I have a responsibility to acknowledge when abuse has occurred during the creation of a work of art, regardless of the quality of the end-product. To ignore such abuse erases survivors’ narratives and tells abusers that their actions are justifiable if they produce “great” art. It perpetuates the idea that hostile work environments are the cost of making art — and that should never, ever be the case.
I refuse to continue to live and work in a culture in which survivors (of any gender) are silenced so that their abuser can flourish professionally, or where men’s careers are valued over women’s. I will not stay silent as survivors, particularly women, are told that harassment is simply the cost of going to college, of getting a job, of existing in public spaces or private relationships.
If we write about a piece of art without acknowledging the harm caused by it, we are cementing abusive artists’ status and validating their power in their industry, which allows them greater leverage to quash the voices of their victims.
I also believe that I have a responsibility to inform readers where their money is going when they buy tickets to films, concerts, shows, etc. or when they purchase a work of art. Readers should have the agency to decide which artists they want to financially endorse and what the consequences of that endorsement may be.
I believe that, as arts journalists, we must consider whose voices we are amplifying when we cover an artist or their work. If we write about a piece of art without acknowledging the harm caused by it, we are cementing abusive artists’ status and validating their power in their industry, which allows them greater leverage to quash the voices of their victims.
This year, much like Hollywood, USC has seen powerful figures ousted for committing or abetting sexual violence. After hundreds of students accused former campus gynecologist George Tyndall of sexual misconduct, our former president, Max Nikias, was also was effectively forced to step down for protecting Tyndall instead of students. It’s imperative that we not forget why Nikias was successfully removed: Members of the USC community, namely senior faculty, spoke up and refused to tolerate a president who knowingly allowed an abuser to thrive on our campus.
Ours is a campus of artists and academics, filmmakers and game-changers. We have a hand — and a stake — in determining whether or not our generation will tolerate another Weinstein or another Cosby. As arts journalists serving the USC community and beyond, we can help change conversations around sexual violence from ones of silence and excuse, to ones of healing, justice, and intolerance for abuse. That starts by standing with survivors.
Correction: An earlier version of this piece misstated Moonves’s corporate affiliation. He is affiliated with CBS.
[Collage Image Sourcing: Matt Rourke/AFP/Getty Images (Andrea Constand), Chris Pizzello/Invision/AP (Ashley Judd), Georbes Biard (Rosanna Arquette), Win McNamee/Reuters (Christine Blasey Ford), Gotham Magazine (Lupita Nyong’o), Wojciech Strozyk/Reporter (Magdalena Górka), Paul Archuleta/Getty Images (Rose McGowan), Flicker User “vagueonthehow” (Anthony Rapp), David M. Bennett/Getty Images (Zelda Perkins), Bettmann Archive/Getty Images (Anita Hill)]