Like many, I must admit that I have been glued to my social
media feeds following the developments in the Bill Cosby: “Dirty Old Man” Saga.
The shear coordination and sophistication of this epic take down will become PR
legend. I am certain “Being Cosbied” will find it’s way into public relations
and law school courses in years to come.
That said, I have frankly had enough. I get it, Bill Cosby,
not Cliff Huxtable, is a sex obsessed man that used his celebrity to have
sexual relations with women that were very likely not interested in his pudding
pop. News flash, he isn’t the first and sadly won’t be the last. Most
importantly, my world has not been rocked by this development and my identity as
a confident, educated black man who grew up in the 80’s loving the Cosby Show has
not been altered.
I hope that those who allege having been victimized by Mr.
Cosby find closure and justice. However, I have no further interest in this
story and its manufactured impact on the psyche of Black America. Even at the
age of 9 I understood that Cliff and Claire Huxtable were characters created
for my families Thursday night entertainment. Their existence began and ended
with the click of the remote.
Yes, I can reenact scenes from all my favorite episodes,
“Baby!”, “How Ugly is he?”, but my lasting memories are of my brothers and my
mother glued to the television, laughing and enjoying the time together. Bill
Cosby may have produced, starred in and written this iconic imagery of the
black family, but he is not the “father” of Black America. He is a storyteller
and comedian that put to screen images and stories of black families that had
never before been shared in that genre during primetime.
I am thankful for his contributions to the cultural heritage
of Black America and our country as a whole, but it is at the intersection of
his work and his personal life that I part ways and acknowledge; I do not know
Bill Cosby The Man and therefore am not disappointed or impacted by the outcome
of his personal life choices.
Life goes on.
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