When I hear of rape and ‘domestic’ violence cases, I think of my nieces and my nephews – what I want to protect them from (but can’t), who I hope they’ll be (but can’t determine). And my love and concern for them make it more and more difficult for me to move past what’s been done (or reported) simply because the person makes award winning movies or infectious music, has charisma or a winning smile. It’s not enough to make me forget all for a little wine up or wind down as the case may be.
I think of the ones close to home and further afield – my nieces and nephews and others I have mentored, I mean, and how for being a little smart-mouthed they might get clocked and even talk themselves around to believing they deserved it; or how overindulging at the wrong party may turn them in to the latest internet scandal with a long road to recovery and reclaiming their body and their reputation ahead of them.
Is it possible to separate the art from the artiste? Yes, but I swear sometimes these artistes don’t make it easy. We all make mistakes, we all have pasts; but some things cross lines for me…especially when there’s no acknowledgment, no attempt at ownership of the wrong. My appreciation for the art may even still be there but it is tinged by this extra information my brain, my conscience can’t dismiss. While I may or may not know the person who was raped or hit – I’ll still know it was a person, and I’ll know it could have been one of my own. That knowing makes it difficult to look away. I feel like while we must allow room for redemption, we also shouldn’t find it so easy to shrug certain things off and just go ‘long as though they’d never happened. And if we can, it makes me wonder about how much we really value our girls; and the boys we are raising and mentoring to do better.
Just thinking on some things.