The unmasking of Bill Cosby, hypocritical moralist and accused serial rapist, continues.
Most recently a federal judge permitted the release of a decade-old deposition in which Cosby admitted to using Quaaludes as his M.O. for sex with unwitting women. Judge Eduardo Robreno’s reasoning was blunt: “The stark contrast between Bill Cosby, the public moralist, and Bill Cosby, the subject of serious allegations concerning improper (and perhaps criminal) conduct, is a matter to which the AP (Associated Press)–and by extension the public–has a significant interest.”
In short, there’s a lot more than creepy-sex smoke here, and this erstwhile bastion of rectitude needed to be outed.
In addition to justice and possible closure for dozens–DOZENS–of victims, there’s also this: What happens to the impostrous messenger’s message? Sure, it was an exercise in unconscionable hypocrisy, but what of its merits? Hypocritical is not a synonym for invalid.
What we shouldn’t want is an unnecessary, collateral victim–society at large–just because Bill Cosby was much more Mr. Hyde than Dr. Huxtable.
Whether he was recalling childhood Philly chums, riffing on the Old Testament about Noah’s archetypal boat-building or showcasing a non-stereotypical black family, Cosby was delivering a message about what we multi-hued Americans had in common. An America riven by racial unrest needed an African-American voice that wasn’t race-baiting, race-hustling or Uncle Tomming. A Cosby performance meant whites and blacks laughing with–not at–each other, no minor accomplishment within America’s racial crucible.
And he never turned cynical or bitter when his son Ennis was murdered in 1997.
“What’s a cubit?” I still remember that line from the Noah routine. Or the coin flip before the Revolutionary War that explains why the British had to wear non-camouflaged uniforms and march in straight lines. It was vintage Cosby. Never risqué, never crude–but, alas, never who he really was.
Back in the day, Cosby was chided for not using street language like Red Foxx, Richard Pryor or Eddie Murphy. He became network TV’s Jackie Robinson, but was criticized for lulling white households into a false sense of civil-rights success.
Later he was resented by many blacks for moralizing about personal responsibility. Cosby railed against gangsta rap, teenage pregnancy, pants worn below the butt and black students equating academic success with “acting white.” Because of his conservative prescriptions for black America, Cosby was lambasted by critics of both colors.
Cosby made no apologies.
His response to those critics: “A white person listens to my act and he laughs and he thinks, ‘Yeah, that’s the way I see it too.’ … And we both see things the same way. That must mean that we are alike. Right? So I figure this way I’m doing as much for good race relations as the next guy.” Arguably, more.
And now, years later, he is Bill Cosby, disgraced defendant. Exhibit A for societal predator, who deserves all his incoming ignominy.
By all means, take away the Medal of Freedom that Cosby was awarded in 2002. By all means, take away his honorary chief petty officer title and that previously scheduled standup special for Netflix. And if a court of law and a statute-of-limitations loophole have the last word, so be it. He deserves whatever societal punishment can be meted out.
But by all means, let’s keep his message–whether it’s universal humor or not enabling aspects of dysfunctional black culture–in perspective.