I must confess: I'm shocked. Bill Cosby has been found guilty of sexual assault. I'm shocked not because Cosby is guilty. That's something everyone of good faith who has read the accounts of dozens of accusations against the legendary comedian has long since concluded must be true.
No, I'm shocked because on some level I didn't think it was possible to get a jury of 12 people who sincerely agreed that sexual assault is wrong, no matter who does it and no matter who they do it to. I'm shocked because in spite #MeToo and the Women's March, I felt there was always going to be some guy -- in every room and on every jury -- who refuses to believe, when it comes right down to it, that there aren't at least some circumstances where a little force is fair play.
That is, after all, what allegedly happened during the last Cosby trial: A number of jurors were reluctant to convict Cosby, although most eventually conceded that the evidence was against him. But reportedly there were two holdouts who simply wouldn't budge, and who seemed unmoved by the actual evidence.
That was certainly disappointing, but it also came as no surprise to anyone who has spent years writing about sexual violence. What you learn is that for some people, there are few, if any, sexual assaults they are willing to blame on the perpetrator. They'll say the victim was somehow asking for it. Or that the assailant somehow misunderstood the situation. Or that the victim is making a mountain of a molehill. All of which are basically ways of suggesting that force isn't exactly illegal, or at least shouldn't be.
When the accused is a man of wealth, prestige or privilege, you are likely to see a dramatic increase in the number of people who are willing to minimize his behavior or to treat sexual assault as if it were nothing more than an overly aggressive come-on.
“His life will never be the one that he dreamed about and worked so hard to achieve,” complained Dan Turner, father of convicted rapist Brock Turner, at his son's 2016 sentencing hearing. "That is a steep price to pay for 20 minutes of action out of his 20-plus years of life.”
Philosopher Kate Manne calls this "himpathy," which she defines as "a whole set of ways that we tend to be overly focused on, and tend to give sympathetic attention to, men and boys in ways that are systematically distorting." Himpathy recasts the rapist as the victim and the woman he assaulted as the victimizer. The discussion is not about how he assaulted her, but how she is supposedly being unfair to him. Himpathy has been abundant in the Cosby case, with Cosby's defenders painting his numerous accusers as liars, money-grubbers or, at best, women who are exaggerating the offense in order to get attention.
It meant that Cosby repeatedly got standing ovations at public appearances, during the months after dozens of women came forward with strikingly similar stories of having been drugged and then assaulted.
When Donald Trump was caught bragging about sexual assault on tape, nearly 63 million people voted for him in 2016. More than 46 percent of American voters saw a man who has sexually assaulted women -- or who has repeatedly claimed he had, anyway -- as more sympathetic than an actual woman.
Statistics like that suggest that there's always one himpathizer in a room of a dozen people, and usually more than that. Until, on Thursday, there wasn't.
What changed? I confess a fear of attributing this to the #MeToo movement, because I'm generally skeptical that people will give up on long-standing attitudes — such as instinctively valuing men over women — after just a few months, or even a few years, of sustained pressure. Besides, I've seen with my own eyes that the himpathizers are resistant to #MeToo, and more than ready to make the same excuses they've always made for men who harass, grope and even rape.
Look, there are rumors that Charlie Rose will get to do a show where he interviews other men accused of sexual misconduct. That this is even a possibility demonstrates the deep longing in many people to restore a social norm where men who assault women are shielded as victims, anytime women dare to speak out against them.
And yet, somehow 12 people, in this country, were able to get together, look at the evidence and decide that there was no excuse for a man to drug a woman so he can sexually assault her. Twelve people did this, even to a man who received standing ovations in public from people who felt immense sympathy for his supposed persecution and suffering.
There's strong reason to suspect that the same old tendencies to minimize and excuse sexual assault cropped up during jury deliberations this time around. The jury sent out the question, "What is the legal definition of consent?", which is never a good sign. Any feminist who writes about this issue knows full well that someone who starts quibbling about the definition of consent is looking for a way to argue that in some cases a woman "consents" even when she clearly does not want to have sex. Men who want to have philosophical discussions about the meaning of consent, in my experience, have a predetermined conclusion, which is that there are cases — usually the one under discussion — where some degree of force is permissible.
Yet this time, the correct decision was made. And that's where the tiny but glowing sliver of hope is planted in my heart that #MeToo will make a difference. It seems like there were people on that jury who came armed with all the usual excuses — that the victim should have known better; that drugging someone isn't the same as "real" assault; that consent is somehow a confusing and difficult concept — and yet they realized, as they discussed the facts of the case, that those old excuses don't make any sense.
Maybe there is finally a shift in sympathies, away from men who commit violence and towards women who experience it. Maybe all those brave women who told their stories actually made a real difference.
I hope so. Because this isn't just about bringing men who commit bad acts to justice, as good as that feels. It's about creating a world where the actual victims will experience comfort, care and understanding — rather than the shunning and shaming all too often inflicted on women who speak out.
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