Male violence against women is the longest-running epidemic in human history, and we should all be fighting to end it. But if ending this violence is the priority, then we must also pay attention to the ways we approach the fight lest our insensitive engagement cause further harm to survivors.
The failure to consider the needs of survivors is a major reason why we witnessed so much disruption in the aftermath of the helicopter crash that claimed nine lives in California.
Among those killed in that crash was a figure who proved to be as polarizing in life as in death: Kobe Bryant. Upon his death, people around the globe mourned and lauded Bryant for his many elite accomplishments. However, many others were grappling not with his NBA MVP, Finals MVPs, Championships, Hall of Fame selection, Academy Award, nor his notable support of the WNBA; rather, survivors and those who support them were dealing with the fact that Bryant was accused of rape in 2003.
According to Kobe Bryant, he raped a woman in 2003. I base this on his own statement (read by his attorneys) acknowledging that “she feels that she did not consent to this encounter.” I refuse to waste any more time on this particular point.
There were few if any conversations in mainstream media about Bryant and this case between its end and his death. No challenging interviews and little pushback as he began promoting women’s sports. Then, as suddenly as Bryant’s life was taken, these conversations were seemingly reborn. It was as if there was a lifting of a gag order or non-disclosure agreement. One Washington Post reporter nearly lost her job for repeatedly sharing the link to Bryant’s court statement online.
But something crucial was missing in the mainstream posthumous push-back, something that Tarana Burke and the #MeToo campaign has done well to center in alignment with the the grassroots women’s anti-violence movement in the 1970s and 80s. Missing was the consistent and diligent advocacy that cares about the whole lives of survivors, rather than just spotlighting the harms done against them.
The lives of survivors include traumas, but also comforts; pains but also deep joy. This is not a fight that anyone should enter without deep humility, care, and self-reflection. Without these values, such engagement has the power to retraumatize and minimize people to the sum of their oppressions and worst experiences. This flattening of people’s humanity is what happened in the aftermath of Bryant’s death.
The failure to consider survivors as whole people came to a head when Gayle King – who, by the way, was recently publicly praised for her no-nonsense interview with now maligned serial predator Robert K. – brought up Bryant’s rape case in an interview with Lisa Leslie. As a result, several public figures, from Snoop Dogg to Ari Lennox, argued that King and others now talking about Bryant’s case were intent on tearing down Black men. Snoop went as far as to bring in the argument that serial rapist Cosby should be freed from prison because he is another Black man being torn down.
I can’t speak to those who believe in narrow ideas of legacy, or the idea that so-called great public figures must be remembered as pure and untarnished. What I know is that rape is not something that fits into the category of “we all make mistakes” and we shouldn’t ever gloss it over. Very many people – particularly women – have been sexually harassed, assaulted, and abused in their lifetimes. And even among these atrocities, rape is a very distinct type of inhumane attack. (This is in no way to suggest that other often gendered forms of harm are beneath rape or should be disregarded in any accounting. Rather, I am saying that these violences exist on a spectrum and rape is on the more extreme end.)
But what rape has in common with these other forms of violence is that nuanced discussions are often silenced by the responses like Snoop and Lennox’s to Gayle’s interview questions and the Post reporter’s tweets. Silencing is a political move that protects both abusers and so many of us who harbor a patriarchal hatred of women and femininity. This overwhelming silence permeated coverage of Bryant from the time the case was dismissed until his untimely death.
In our efforts to resist this silencing, however, we must also consider the ways that others who are not public figures are implicated in these discussions – including the unnamed survivors, perpetrators, and many people who simply do not care. How we choose to talk about these issues can reveal the extent to which our commitments are about self-serving sensationalism or community-centered empowerment. And the emphasis on sensationalism is why mainstream media should also be criticized for their spike in coverage at a moment it could most easily be capitalized upon as well.
It’s fair to say that the American mainstream in 2003 was in a much different place with respect to issues of slut-shaming, rape culture, misogyny, and patriarchy. It is also fair to say that the fantasy of celebrity does not make Bryant’s charge, Snoop and Ari’s defensiveness, or Gayle’s interviews more important than the work of grassroots organizers and community builders who house, clothe, employ, feed, hide, fund, and emotionally support survivors.
That said, we must pay attention to these public moments because they have a broad reach and a deep impact on the masses, but we must do so with the understanding that real people’s lives are at stake.
Editors’ and reporters’ decisions to discuss the 2003 case after Bryant’s death might signal a new awakening and commitment. But if they are sincerely committed to supporting survivors, then they must also acknowledge their own failure to address these issues beyond the trial itself. Justice demands accountability, a public and transparent reckoning with past failures in hopes of embracing a better future. To avoid this reconciliation is a cop-out that capitalizes on the moment. And the press – particularly the powerful owners controlling media narratives – deserve harsh criticism for their persistent disrespect and disregard for people’s lives in the name of ratings.
Suggested Readings:
Beth Richie, Arrested Justice: Black Women, Violence, and America’s Prison Nation, 2012
Hari Ziyad, Twitter Thread on Gayle King and Kobe Bryant, 2020
“Angela Davis on Violence“, YouTube , 1997 (uploaded 2o12)
Marcus is an Assistant Professor in the Department of African American Studies at Georgetown University. His research deals with political engagement, power, and coercion as they interact with race gender and sexuality. He found home in Chicago and family in Maryland.
