Trigger warning: Rape, abuse, child abuse
When I was seven, my nextdoor neighbor molested the girl who lived down the street from me.
She was eight at the time. So were his two daughters—we were great friends and so were our families. For the whole of my childhood (and for three years after the incident), we had barbeques, pool parties, Super Bowl parties, and potlucks. Their family let me sleep over on weekends and then took me to church on Sundays. We went to the beach in the summer and ate ice cream and buried each other in the sand. It was pretty normal, and I was pretty happy.
When I was ten, the girl came out with the information. My parents sat me down and told me that I couldn’t go over to my two friends’ house anymore. If I wanted to play with them, they would have to come over to ours. I remember sitting on my bed, struggling to understand the horrors of child molestation. While they didn’t ask me outright if he had molested me too, they implied that, if he did, it was okay to tell them. It was a lot to ask of a ten-year-old to dissect her short life like that. Looking back even now I remember feelings of discomfort during a number of moments at their house.
I could have spoken up, but I didn’t. As a kid, I felt like I would be underfoot if I entered the debacle (especially because my former friends now held me and my family in contempt for not sticking by their father). Most importantly, I was still so shocked that this man—who had practically raised me like a second father, as we had lived next door to his family for my whole life—could have done something so stomach-wrenchingly horrible to a girl the same age as his own daughters.
I imagine this is the same reaction a lot of people have to the accusations placed against Woody Allen. Twenty years ago, Woody Allen sexually abused his adopted daughter, Dylan Farrow. Although Allen wasn’t charged with anything, the question has risen again because Dylan Farrow recently published an open letter in the New York Times in light of the Golden Globe’s lifetime achievement award going to her molester.
As mentioned in the letter, the lasting effects of Dylan’s abuse were magnified by Allen’s presence in the media: “Each time I saw my abuser’s face—on a poster, on a t-shirt, on television—I could only hide in panic until I found a place to be alone and fall apart,” she says in her letter. “Woody Allen’s acceptance silenced me. It felt like a personal rebuke… [they were telling] me to shut up and go away.”
When I was seven, my nextdoor neighbor molested the girl who lived down the street from me.
She was eight at the time. So were his two daughters—we were great friends and so were our families. For the whole of my childhood (and for three years after the incident), we had barbeques, pool parties, Super Bowl parties, and potlucks. Their family let me sleep over on weekends and then took me to church on Sundays. We went to the beach in the summer and ate ice cream and buried each other in the sand. It was pretty normal, and I was pretty happy.
When I was ten, the girl came out with the information. My parents sat me down and told me that I couldn’t go over to my two friends’ house anymore. If I wanted to play with them, they would have to come over to ours. I remember sitting on my bed, struggling to understand the horrors of child molestation. While they didn’t ask me outright if he had molested me too, they implied that, if he did, it was okay to tell them. It was a lot to ask of a ten-year-old to dissect her short life like that. Looking back even now I remember feelings of discomfort during a number of moments at their house.
I could have spoken up, but I didn’t. As a kid, I felt like I would be underfoot if I entered the debacle (especially because my former friends now held me and my family in contempt for not sticking by their father). Most importantly, I was still so shocked that this man—who had practically raised me like a second father, as we had lived next door to his family for my whole life—could have done something so stomach-wrenchingly horrible to a girl the same age as his own daughters.
I imagine this is the same reaction a lot of people have to the accusations placed against Woody Allen. Twenty years ago, Woody Allen sexually abused his adopted daughter, Dylan Farrow. Although Allen wasn’t charged with anything, the question has risen again because Dylan Farrow recently published an open letter in the New York Times in light of the Golden Globe’s lifetime achievement award going to her molester.
As mentioned in the letter, the lasting effects of Dylan’s abuse were magnified by Allen’s presence in the media: “Each time I saw my abuser’s face—on a poster, on a t-shirt, on television—I could only hide in panic until I found a place to be alone and fall apart,” she says in her letter. “Woody Allen’s acceptance silenced me. It felt like a personal rebuke… [they were telling] me to shut up and go away.”
It can be startling to hear this sort of information, especially if you’re part of the whole new generation of movie fanatics who love Woody Allen and don’t know (or care to know) this history. It’s true that he’s given our cinematic culture so much new material, since his career in the industry is over half a decade long. He feels like a comforting home base in the world of cinema, where actors and directors and producers filter in and out every five years. Everyone knows Woody Allen’s name, and everyone has a favorite Woody Allen movie.
In order to defend himself, Allen posted a response a week later. In it, he explains that the scandal was the product of his “self-serving,” “malevolent” ex-girlfriend and Dylan’s mother, Mia Farrow, who “coached” her daughter so that she could get revenge on Allen for leaving her for his current wife and Mia’s other daughter, Soon-Yi. Allen cites various other incidents to “call attention to the integrity and honesty” of Mia Farrow’s character. Allen says that Dylan is not a victim of his abuse, but of his ex-girlfriend’s manic personality.
When you read his response, it’s very easy to want to believe in him when he says that this is all a misconstrued ploy on the part of his ex-girlfriend. Woody Allen’s name and face recognition make us want to trust him like we’d trust our own fathers. But we also need to understand the perspectives from which we are currently getting our information—regardless of the way charges were dropped twenty years ago, and regardless of the (possibly biased) doctors, judges, and psychiatrists that flip-flopped sides.
Dylan came out with this information twenty years after the fact. She’s not getting any money from anyone, and she’s hardly getting very good press. In fact, as she said in her letter, she’s coming out with this information now—with virtually no benefit to her own personal life—because she wants other survivors of sexual abuse to know that “they don’t have to be silent either.”
The abused have a long history of being silenced. Women who come forward and explain that they have been sexually assaulted are treated with disrespect and scrutiny. Admitting to a loss of bodily autonomy and recounting a frightening and humiliating experience can be triggering and extremely painful for abuse victims, which is why they often wait so long. It took my young friend three years, and many more girls and women never speak about it to the authorities. The stigma that goes along with women discussing and experiencing sexuality (also known as slut-shaming) and the humiliation rape victims feel when they come forward leads to a binding instance in which the victims are blamed for the clothing they were wearing, the actions they took, the people they trusted, and (worse) “changing their minds” afterward and wanting to destroy a man’s career and reputation. Dylan Farrow is certainly not the only person who has ever experienced this scrutiny.
“The message that Hollywood sends matters for [other victims],” she says. “Imagine [it was your daughter who spent] a lifetime stricken with nausea at the mention of his name. Imagine a world that celebrates her tormenter.”
There is no shortage of research done on how rapists walk free every day because their victims are shamed into silence. Even when they don’t walk free, they are ritually given dramatically less time in prison than they deserve (my neighbor only served two years in prison, despite the legal minimum for child molestation being eight years in my home state). There is no underestimating the kind of fear this inspires in victims like Dylan. The silencing of victims has many sources, but at its root, it’s a heteronormative, misogynistic agenda that victim blaming serves and perpetuates.
Allen’s characterization of Mia Farrow as a crazy ex-girlfriend, driven mad with jealousy, supports this misogynistic narrative. It sounds, appropriately, like something out of a movie. Of course Mia Farrow was going to be upset that he left her for her own daughter (you would be crazy to believe that she’d go along calmly with your quasi-romantic “love is unpredictable” garb, Woody). Of course she, as a mother, was willing to do everything in her power to protect her family and keep them from the man who molested her youngest daughter. These things aren’t the product of an insane woman driven mad with envy, these are natural, realistic, human emotions.
When we side with Woody Allen on issues like this, we are saying that we accept his characterization of his ex-girlfriend as deranged. What’s worse, we are saying we are ready and willing to accept the innocent, childlike portrait of Dylan as a deluded victim, even though she came forward and wrote her brave letters (yes, there’s one more) as a grown woman with the ability to reflect as accurately on her past experiences as any of us can on our own.
We are saying we’re willing to continue to perpetuate the idea that women will cry rape as a way to get money, attention, or revenge—never mind that false accusations of rape and sexual assault count for less than 1% of all such accusations. We are saying we take men on their word when they say they didn’t sexually assault someone, despite the fact that we know that sexual offenders will readily lie about and minimize their number of victims. We are forgetting how absolutely pervasive rape culture really is. Instead of trusting women who have everything to lose by sticking her neck out and telling their stories, we are saying we’d rather trust men who we know have everything to gain by continuing to lie about their past to protect their reputation.
Allen’s piece was very well written, but it shocks me that fans clamor to defend him without sufficient evidence (and probably would clamor to defend other men whose major arguments are “I didn’t do it”). We should by now be aware of the system set in place to protect Woody Allen and people like him, regardless of how many good movies they have made or whether or not they go to church.
I still don’t know much about the case that happened with my neighbor when I was young. I do know that the girl is currently studying at a great school and each time I talk to her she exudes the same kind of attitude I feel when I read Dylan’s letters: a kind of underlying strength that will not let herself or other victims like her be silenced and will fight for her right to justice, regardless of whether that fight comes three years later or twenty years later. We as outsiders have to decide if we’re going to be the ones fighting with or against them, and Woody Allen’s case seems like a good place to draw the line.
Image: NYTimes.com
In order to defend himself, Allen posted a response a week later. In it, he explains that the scandal was the product of his “self-serving,” “malevolent” ex-girlfriend and Dylan’s mother, Mia Farrow, who “coached” her daughter so that she could get revenge on Allen for leaving her for his current wife and Mia’s other daughter, Soon-Yi. Allen cites various other incidents to “call attention to the integrity and honesty” of Mia Farrow’s character. Allen says that Dylan is not a victim of his abuse, but of his ex-girlfriend’s manic personality.
When you read his response, it’s very easy to want to believe in him when he says that this is all a misconstrued ploy on the part of his ex-girlfriend. Woody Allen’s name and face recognition make us want to trust him like we’d trust our own fathers. But we also need to understand the perspectives from which we are currently getting our information—regardless of the way charges were dropped twenty years ago, and regardless of the (possibly biased) doctors, judges, and psychiatrists that flip-flopped sides.
Dylan came out with this information twenty years after the fact. She’s not getting any money from anyone, and she’s hardly getting very good press. In fact, as she said in her letter, she’s coming out with this information now—with virtually no benefit to her own personal life—because she wants other survivors of sexual abuse to know that “they don’t have to be silent either.”
The abused have a long history of being silenced. Women who come forward and explain that they have been sexually assaulted are treated with disrespect and scrutiny. Admitting to a loss of bodily autonomy and recounting a frightening and humiliating experience can be triggering and extremely painful for abuse victims, which is why they often wait so long. It took my young friend three years, and many more girls and women never speak about it to the authorities. The stigma that goes along with women discussing and experiencing sexuality (also known as slut-shaming) and the humiliation rape victims feel when they come forward leads to a binding instance in which the victims are blamed for the clothing they were wearing, the actions they took, the people they trusted, and (worse) “changing their minds” afterward and wanting to destroy a man’s career and reputation. Dylan Farrow is certainly not the only person who has ever experienced this scrutiny.
“The message that Hollywood sends matters for [other victims],” she says. “Imagine [it was your daughter who spent] a lifetime stricken with nausea at the mention of his name. Imagine a world that celebrates her tormenter.”
There is no shortage of research done on how rapists walk free every day because their victims are shamed into silence. Even when they don’t walk free, they are ritually given dramatically less time in prison than they deserve (my neighbor only served two years in prison, despite the legal minimum for child molestation being eight years in my home state). There is no underestimating the kind of fear this inspires in victims like Dylan. The silencing of victims has many sources, but at its root, it’s a heteronormative, misogynistic agenda that victim blaming serves and perpetuates.
Allen’s characterization of Mia Farrow as a crazy ex-girlfriend, driven mad with jealousy, supports this misogynistic narrative. It sounds, appropriately, like something out of a movie. Of course Mia Farrow was going to be upset that he left her for her own daughter (you would be crazy to believe that she’d go along calmly with your quasi-romantic “love is unpredictable” garb, Woody). Of course she, as a mother, was willing to do everything in her power to protect her family and keep them from the man who molested her youngest daughter. These things aren’t the product of an insane woman driven mad with envy, these are natural, realistic, human emotions.
When we side with Woody Allen on issues like this, we are saying that we accept his characterization of his ex-girlfriend as deranged. What’s worse, we are saying we are ready and willing to accept the innocent, childlike portrait of Dylan as a deluded victim, even though she came forward and wrote her brave letters (yes, there’s one more) as a grown woman with the ability to reflect as accurately on her past experiences as any of us can on our own.
We are saying we’re willing to continue to perpetuate the idea that women will cry rape as a way to get money, attention, or revenge—never mind that false accusations of rape and sexual assault count for less than 1% of all such accusations. We are saying we take men on their word when they say they didn’t sexually assault someone, despite the fact that we know that sexual offenders will readily lie about and minimize their number of victims. We are forgetting how absolutely pervasive rape culture really is. Instead of trusting women who have everything to lose by sticking her neck out and telling their stories, we are saying we’d rather trust men who we know have everything to gain by continuing to lie about their past to protect their reputation.
Allen’s piece was very well written, but it shocks me that fans clamor to defend him without sufficient evidence (and probably would clamor to defend other men whose major arguments are “I didn’t do it”). We should by now be aware of the system set in place to protect Woody Allen and people like him, regardless of how many good movies they have made or whether or not they go to church.
I still don’t know much about the case that happened with my neighbor when I was young. I do know that the girl is currently studying at a great school and each time I talk to her she exudes the same kind of attitude I feel when I read Dylan’s letters: a kind of underlying strength that will not let herself or other victims like her be silenced and will fight for her right to justice, regardless of whether that fight comes three years later or twenty years later. We as outsiders have to decide if we’re going to be the ones fighting with or against them, and Woody Allen’s case seems like a good place to draw the line.
Image: NYTimes.com