Louis C.K.: Abuse of power comes as no surprise
Well, I was surprised. Because I was complicit, and naive.
I have 3 feminist articles sitting on my back-log that I’m having trouble finishing. As a snarky content marketer who uses writing to pay the bills, this is troubling. As a female, it’s maddening.
These articles are about sexual harassment, feminism, female bodily autonomy, working while woman, sexual harassment in tech, and the long-term issues finally coming to light in Hollywood.
I take pride — although being flippant, and snarky as is my brand — in remaining sourced and logical. But I can’t remain cool-headed on this topic.
As a woman who has experienced dubious consent, groping, proposition for prostitution, stalking, and other forms of sexual harassment — first hand — I am livid. I cannot be detached from this. It’s impossible.
Even the unseen eyes of hungry boys feel like teeth, immediately, to every woman they look upon.
How can I compile something as insidious and wide-reaching as sexual harassment and bias in tech, the workplace, Hollywood, and in waking, walking life, without losing my shit?
It’s hard to keep your head, as a woman, in a world that lets men get away with abusing their power, and then being told it’s not so bad, that it comes as no surprise. And worse than that: some of us are complicit. Like me.
Artist Jenny Holzer had it right more than 30 years ago. Abuse of power comes as no surprise. And it hasn’t at all changed. It’s an evergreen statement if ever there was one.
There is relentless push-back, all around us, explaining (mostly from the manosphere) that our issues are not, at all, problems. Except they are, in fact, problems. And you’re in denial if you say they aren’t. As was I, in a large way.
I’ve been told that men suffer more muggings, so it’s entirely moot for women to be afraid of being harassed, or raped. A glaringly, disgusting “false equivalency” logical fallacy if ever I heard one. But I, as a woman, lack logic, and I’m too emotional, apparently.
I’ve been told that rape issues in male prisons are what we should be talking about. And we should, yes, be talking about it. Trying to solve it. But it’s by men, towards men.
Seems like that specific idea — men being perpetrators of harassment and rape towards other men — gets lost in translation from the manosphere to the public, doesn’t it?
Gaslight the shit out of women. It’s easy. Because it’s not surprising when you do it.
Except this time, with Louis C.K., I was surprised. He’s a comedian. Of course he says terrible shit. He doesn’t even mean 90% of it, right? All those allegations — why the fuck didn’t I listen? I was naive. I was complicit.
The manosphere whines, we acquiesce. Comedians make jokes, we roll with it. We can’t have dudes feeling attacked, can we? No, we can’t. Because the online backlash is phenomenal. Never mind the real-life consequences.
Even when ladies are attacked. Harassed, raped, threatened, stalked. I didn’t speak — nor believe — my own truth.
That’s naive of me, isn’t it? It’s downright shitty. To ignore the warning signs in my own life. And the warning signs swirling around Louis C.K.. Just because I thought he was “one of the good ones”. I excused his behavior.
Despite Louis C.K.’s outlandish brand of humor, I really thought he was socially conscious. Pushing the envelope, but pulling back the worst, rawest truth society had to offer.
Why did I think this? Suspension of disbelief. When a male comedian gets up on stage, and starts railing on the ‘other’, as shit as it is, the smart ones reel back and poke a hole in it. You know what I’m talking about.
Like when you see someone stand up on a talk show. “How am I supposed to explain to my child that two men are getting married?” I don’t know, it’s your shitty kid. You fucking tell them. Why is that anyone else’s problem? Two guys are in love, but they can’t get married, because you don’t want to talk to your ugly child for fucking 5 minutes? — Louis C.K.
Brash, misogynistic, bigoted, homophobic humor is a mirror for society. These socially conscious male comedians are able to make us laugh at something terrible, and turn around, and parody society. It’s all a joke, until someone gets hurt.
I grew up with George Carlin. He, above probably anyone else, exemplified my ideas about the world. Packaged them in swears and laughs.
He got a hard-on, he went out of his mind. A lot of men talk like that. A lot of men think that way. They think it’s the woman’s fault. They like to blame the rape on the woman. They say “hey, she had it coming. She was wearing a short skirt”. These guys think these women should go to prison for being cock-teasers. Don’t seem fair to me. Don’t seem right.
But you can joke about it.
— George Carlin
George Carlin was able to put up a mirror to the world, and put the truth between all the laughs. Louis C.K., weren’t you supposed to do the same?
I don’t have a shot with him (Ewan McGregor). I just don’t rape movie stars.
— Louis C.K.
Tig Notaro talked about the issues with Louis C.K. in August of this year. I hand-waved it. Despite the culminating, growing evidence, that of which he repeatedly denied.
I was just as bad as everyone else, making excuses. I allowed this. I was complicit and excused Louis C.K.’s shitty behavior by saying, “Naw, can’t be true. He’s one of the good ones”. Just like George Carlin.
I was wrong. I was so wrong. The wrongest of wrongs.
How sick is that? I let my allies down by hand-waving the allegations. I let myself down by hand-waving my own truth.
I’m not brave. I am not, in any sense of the word, as brave as the women who have come forward about their experiences. I have never, never explicitly come forward about my own experiences. I might have talked about it on my private Facebook account once or twice, then deleted it. Cowardly.
Here is me coming clean.
I suffered a break-up with my ex-boyfriend of 11 years who, while we were on a ‘break’, brought a woman over to our house. While I lay in the living room, sobbing, I heard everything. He asked me if she could come over. I said yes. Why? I trusted him. I loved him. He had power over me. Why did I let this happen? I admired him. I said it was okay. What was wrong with me? He was “one of the good ones”.
I was taken home by a guy while intoxicated. The breakdown of my 11 year relationship really ruined me, at the time. I don’t remember consenting. I’ve never talked about it. Here I am, talking about it. Because I liked him. He was there for me. He had power over me. He was funny. I wasn’t mentally present, how could I consent? Why did I go with him? What was wrong with me? He was “one of the good ones.”
I have been groped in my hometown of Boston, MA. I’ve been stalked. I’ve been stopped by men on the street asking to pay me for sex. I declined, and they followed me. I’ve had to jump into taxis to avoid men. In broad daylight. Cat-calling? It’s constant, and common. I’ve been harassed plenty of times. And I’ve never, never, never talked about it.
My truth? I’m female. Harassment, sexual assault, and abuse of power, comes as no surprise.
How is it that “socially conscious” and “feminist” men can walk around with feathers in their caps, puffed up like bloated birds, and shit all over our lives? How can we let this happen to us, our sisters, our friends?
They’re “one of the good ones”. You know the type. With their gritty, truth-laden humor and gender-studies accolades lined up like shitty little merit badges on an American Eagle sash, and their artistic inclinations, and their high-brow, philosophical discussions. “Feminist” men so often lie through their damned teeth.
I hate the power that men exert, freely, over women — without any self awareness — until it gets so bad that it blows up and decimates industries.
People only pay attention when it hurts the bank accounts. Or when enough women start screaming about it. But how many is enough? We are so tired of telling the world that these things happen, and not being believed.
I hate myself more for ignoring my own truth. And more than that, I hate myself for supporting a comedian that I liked, and ignoring the growing body of evidence surrounding him.
Because Louis C.K. was funny. Because I thought, he was a mirror. Like George Carlin. Because I thought, he wasn’t like the others. Despite his jokes — no — he’s okay. A bit crass. Pushes the envelope. Yeah, well, they all do…
Here we are, on November 11th, 2017, 8 days until my 30th birthday. My confessions out for open eyes, with Hollywood in shambles, and Louis C.K. — my go-to-guy for crass, politically incorrect humor, who I thought was holding up a mirror to society—confessing to sexually harassing women.
The comedian released a statement regarding the claims: ‘The power I had over these women is that they admired me. And I wielded that power irresponsibly’.
— Louis C.K.
I trusted men in my life to take care of me. To put my best interests first — because I loved them. Despite all their flaws, all the trespasses against me as a person. I admired them. I trusted them. I wasn’t a victim, right?
I was complicit. I allowed Louis C.K. to remain untouchable in my mind, by being complicit. So many women admired Louis C.K., he had power over them, and he wielded that power irresponsibly. This is me, telling all of you, I fucked up.
How are we tricked, so, so, so thoroughly? The lie gets us every time, that they’re “one of the good ones”. How is it that they can shoot us in the face while pretending, for all their faults, that they are On Our Side, even as the gun smokes behind their backs?
I relied on the specific joke above by Louis C.K. to combat plenty of manosphere cretins.
If this smart, funny white guy could stand up there and talk about women in the dating world, and so succinctly package our fears and present them as comedy, maybe, just maybe, men would listen.
You, Louis C.K., were my tipping point to laying my life bare and sharing my story. I should give you some credit for that. That one more feather on the scale can cascade the truth of sexual harassment, rape, and abuse of power across countless outlets and open up the floodgates.
I don’t know you, Louis C.K. But I looked up to you. I excused you, as I’ve excused so many other men in my life. You were my George Carlin— you were fucking better than this.
I want to say, “how fucking dare you, Louis C.K.”. But I should also be saying, “how fucking dare me”.
Kira Leigh is a marketing consultant, last time she checked.
Catch her here and send her a line.
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