Cosby

LORD: I want you to make me an ark.

NOAH: Riiiight. What's an ark?

LORD:  Make the ark out of cubits.

NOAH:  Riiiight. What's a cubit?

From Bill Cosby's comedy routine entitled "Noah."

I have such wonderful memories of sitting on the couch with my kids watching The Cosby Show in the mid 1980's. The kids were young, but they understood most of the humor, and if a one-liner went over their heads, they could at least appreciate the antic faces of Bill Cosby as the loveable Cliff Huxtable. Since a father figure had been missing in our household for some years, we adopted him as our TV dad, and we hung on every word of sage advice he handed down to Sondra, Denise, Theo, Vanessa (and later, even little Rudy), whether his intentions were silly or serious. During those years, my daily schedule was exhausting as I tried to keep up as a full time college student while simultaneously raising four active kids as a single parent. That weekly time on the couch, laughing and nodding with Cliff's wisdom, were a precious respite from the stress of the week. In our house, we loved Cliff Huxtable so much I used to joke that if anything ever happened to Cosby's wife, Camille, I'd be first in line to snatch him up.

Of course, I had fallen in love with his comedy many years before, in the 1960's, when he was a frequent guest on Johnny Carson and other variety shows. His routines were hilarious (you can still find them on YouTube), and I laughed along with my own siblings, just as my children would laugh along in the same way a couple of decades later.

Having said that, I knew in the back of my mind that Mr. Cosby had another side to his personality. In the late 1960's, he played a sidekick character to Robert Culp in a series entitled I Spy. On rare occasions, an episode was written with his character as the lead, and it gave Cosby the opportunity to be more than just the cool guy making wry quips. His serious roles were played with such a hard edge to them it made me wonder, even back then, what this man was truly all about in real life.

I guess we've found out over the past year or so. Last week Cosby was convicted of sexual assault. He is currently wearing an ankle bracelet on house arrest as he awaits sentencing.

At best, this is a cautionary tale. It seems clear from the number of women who have come forward to accuse him--with nothing to gain beyond justice and validation--that his criminal behavior extended back over decades, all the way back to those idyllic days of The Cosby Show. Of course it was his character we loved, not the man himself. We can see that now. But back then... Cosby the man was lauded and applauded, given honors, asked to render up commencement speeches that were hilarious and yet stellar in their sage advice. Even after the show was cancelled, we continued to love the man we saw as the real life personification of Cliff Huxtable. How completely we were blind to the man he truly was. And how disturbing this should be to us.

Just how easy is it for a man to appear upon the stage of life, smiling in a jovial way and saying things that people want to hear, remarks that make audiences feel less fearful about the current world we're living in, only to be, in truth, slowly and deliberately pulling the wool over their eyes?

Where Predators Lurk

"And will Thomas protect you?" my sweet friend Ann asked when I told her Thom and I had walked the perimeter of the cemetery next door at dawn. I laughed--not at her concern, certainly, but at the thought of Thomas getting all dog-tough and growly up in some cretin's face. Ann's concern was very real; she has a dear friend who was out alone and was assaulted.

I'm pretty sure Thomas would never be protective in an aggressive way, but I'm always conscious of where I am and my surroundings. Except for the dead, no one's much in the cemetery at 6:30a.m. And if someone were, I'd see him long before he had a chance to get close to us.

The truth is, though, in those moments walking with Thomas in the cemetery or in the quiet of the country, a mile from the road, I am the least on my guard. I've never felt the presence of danger in those times. Because I've only ever been assaulted or harassed in broad daylight in public places.

SeaWorld, for example. On a glorious summer day that had been nothing but fun for me and my children, I stood, both hands holding a kid's hand, in one of those underground tunnels that make you feel like you're inside an aquarium. We were completely focused on watching the beautiful sea creatures. Out of the darkness, a man's figure loomed, pushed past me--and groped my chest. I never saw his face or any features, not even his clothes. If I had, I would have chased him down. But he disappeared into the crowd of people behind me. His attack was strategically planned and perfectly executed. I was powerless to respond. I didn't even report it. My kids never knew it happened.

Then there was the time I'd gone to the emergency room of a county hospital with a severe bladder infection. I was five months pregnant. The doctor--or intern--hell, he could've been the janitor for all I know--who came into the room pulled the hospital gown from my shoulders, leaving me uncovered down to my waist. He proceeded to simply sit and gaze at my chest, finally running his hand along my breasts for no apparent reason, all the while talking matter-of-factly about prenatal care. I reminded him that I was there for a bladder infection. He tossed me a eerily smug smile that I'll never forget and left the room. I was eighteen, an inexperienced, naive teenager who was simply baffled by his behavior. It took a few years for me to realize exactly what had been going on.

Years later, when I'd been diagnosed with malignant melanoma, I sat in an exam room with two doctors and a close male friend. As the "specialist" described the surgery he might have to perform on my leg to fully excise the cancer, he reached over and slid his palm under my hip, cheerfully fondling my right buttock as he explained the procedure. Later my friend would tell me how uncomfortable it had made him. "Oh," I replied, "me, too," and then I slipped back into the trance I'd been in since I'd been told days earlier I might have a life-threatening illness. To my great relief, a second biopsy ruled out melanoma. When I could think clearly, I considered all the things I could have/should have said to the pervy doctor. But by then it was too late.

And let me tell you, arrogant, privileged men in positions of power or authority do this kind of shit all the time. And what do women do? Usually nothing. I have said this before on this blog, and will say it again here: For those who are thinking, "You should have said something," you've clearly never had a similar experience. Those who have know that our initial reaction is usually shock and disbelief. Then we question. ('Wait--did he just run his hand across my chest for no reason?') Honestly, by the time we make sense of it, the moment has passed. Predators know this. They are extremely subtle in what they do. (Consider the accusations against Bill Cosby. Or not so subtle--Consider the accusations against Harvey Weinstein.) That's how they continue to get away with it. And if women complain? It becomes "a misunderstanding." And you only need to hear the droning tone of a law enforcement officer remark, "Well, it's he said/she said" to know that no one is going to pursue the perpetrator.

And don't even get me started on the sexual harassment that occurs in public....

There was the new principal who, when I introduced myself, put his arm around my shoulders and told the student I was with he intended to "fire" me as the school newspaper advisor. When I called him on it in private, his response was, "I didn't grope you, did I?"

Twice I had male colleagues offer "hugs" in the hallway outside my classroom, only to lean in and whisper in my ear about being willing to "help" with any "needs" I might have since I'd been single for so long. Both men were married and, to my knowledge, still are, to the same women. I'd always thought the "I know you have needs" line was a creepy joke until I'd been single awhile. And it didn't take long....

A few months after my divorce, a "brother" from my former church called to encourage me to come back to church, to "stop screwing around" (because my husband had announced that we had separated due to infidelity on my part, which, I assured him, was not true), and that, by the way, if I had "unfulfilled needs" I should seek him out and he would "take care of" me. "I think you know what I mean," he said. My daughter used to babysit for this man and his wife. They're still married, and they're still attending church together.

All in all, I've been lucky. I've never been assaulted or harassed by one of my favorite teachers, as several of my friends have. I've never been injured by a man's assault as other friends--and family members--have been.

My friend Bob has told me that I "maintain an aura of 'Get away from me.'" This may be true; I do feel nowadays as if I'm constantly on my guard. But only when I'm in large crowds or around strangers. When I walk alone out in the hills, I have little fear. Wild creatures are far more predictable than humans.

But Ann, I do promise I will always be careful, and I will always have my wits about me, and I may or may not carry a switchblade in the pocket of my cargo pants.