The primary story. A comedian is drugging and raping women. Uses his fame to get close. Victims believe they know him because he is in their living rooms once every week. Solving problems. Healing emotional wounds. Spreading middle-class love all over the place and leaving nothing but smiling children and a grinning wife in his wake. Every problem can be, and is, solved in 30 minutes (including time for shilling). Every problem. This magical, wonderful man never fails.
And the sweaters
He is the very model of virtue and American manhood grown into fatherhood. He was a Rhodes Scholar International Super Spy tennis player that taught PE and English in suburban schools while telling stories of preternaturally fat kids playing buck-buck in the ghetto. All of this before becoming a world class OB-GYN and raising a family that was so perfect in its family-ness that we all made sure to visit once a week. Our family might be a mess but you could rely on the Huxtables.
What you didn’t know was that when you turned off the TV, Dr. Huxtable was slipping drugs to young women in order to rape them. The 30 minute problem was solved. And now reality began.
40 women came forward and said that this man had drugged and/or raped them. The stories were all pretty much the same. Using his influence and fame to get them alone. Giving them the drugs and then raping them. Some got paid. Some got ignored. All got abused.
Many of them were White. Not all but enough. Enough to have America sink into its ancestral cesspool of racism and cultural tribalism. It is amazing that a country built on people leaving their tribes in order to join this bigger, self-selected tribe immediately split back into the original tribal order at every opportunity. We may claim to love being Americans but we act as if we love anything but.
Blacks saw another successful Black man being hounded. This story is old and tiresome. As long as their have been Black celebrities there have been crusades to bring them down. Why is this any different?
They didn’t know each other. They hadn’t coordinated stories. Or legal action. Or anything. 40 separate women that said the same thing.
What possible reason would so many Black Americans have for believing that 40 women were lying about their encounter with Dr. Cosby? What caused those Black Americans to suspend all sense? Because Dr. Cosby is Black? Because the accusers were (largely) White?
If either of these reasons are true, there is no real hope for humans. We are driven by a base need to have an “other”. There has to be someone that is not us. That we can blame. And suspect. And hate.
We must recognize this compulsion. Too often, we use our own victimhood to justify the very same behavior that has been perpetrated on us for centuries. Often our victims are women.
Let’s try an experiment: the next time a “race” issue comes up in the press, go onto Facebook and argue the other side’s point. Not just once but continually. Don’t stop. See if you can change minds. Find out if there is any merit in the argument of those you don’t agree with. Maybe you’ll see why the other side is on that side.
Try to break the habit of going with the first choice and really considering all of your alternatives. If your friends and acquaintances can predict your position on every issue, you don’t have a position. You have an ideology. Trade that in for an opinion.
Bill Cosby is Black. I’m Black. 40 women say that Bill Cosby is a serial rapist. I don’t believe those 40 women because…
We still have so far to go.