COSBY

Bill Cosby has been in the news for the past few years. I won’t go into detail, but unless you have not had any exposure to a television or newspaper you are aware that around four dozen women have accused Bill of a range of drugging and sexual assaults dating back over forty years.

The purpose of this writing isn’t to debate his guilt or innocence on the subject. I know everyone usually has a strong opinion on the man, however for today at least, I will not subject you to another fact less based discussion in which his guilt or innocence is pre-determined by the day’s jurist.

I wanted to instead explore many in the public’s feelings in having such an iconic image of fatherhood shattered. The Cosby show was on television for eight years (84-92) It was the number one ranked show overall on television for five of those years and in the top five two of the other three. The show has become iconic, influencing a generation that was desperate for positive images of people of color on television and in the media in general.

Bill Cosby became not only America’s favorite dad but, Black America’s surrogate. Single parent households are not unique to the Black community, but the disenfranchisement of our families, first from slavery then thru systematic racism, causes the problem to perhaps disproportionately affect our communities. Too many Black boys and girls grow up without either knowing or having a relationship with their father’s and Bill provided an idyllic portrait of what could be.

I do not want to appear as the dream killer, because I am truly not. I love ideals, hope and dreams, but I am a pragmatist as well. The two often do not mesh well, but I do not let reason crush the hope of ideals. However, at an early age I learned the lessons centered around the cliché of the grass not always being greener on the other side of the fence.

My family easily fit into the definition of dysfunctional. My single parent household was further addled with strained relationships passed down by my maternal grandmother to my mother and all of her siblings. My grandmother was the head, by default, and the divisiveness she instilled eventually passed it ways to the next generation leaving me with little interaction with first cousins who I actually shared geographical closeness if not familial bonds. In our search for some normalcy my brothers and I accepted the “play” cousins we interacted more with than by blood ties.

When we were exposed to others, with seemingly greater…closer family structures, we quickly learned that all was not as it seemed. Upon closer inspection their families were equally, if not greater, bands of dysfunction. Perpetual ghetto soap operas, that even if they did not make me appreciate the misfits I was tied to, at least made me understand that in many cases it could be way worse.

For nine summers I was exposed to Caucasian families as a part of the fresh air fund. For two to four weeks starting at age 4 I stayed with a family, usually in the Catskill region of New York. All of the families had two parent households and at least one child my age. They all lived in neighborhoods and resided in homes that resembled every image of white suburbia that I had ever seen on television. They were all rich to me, but even at those ages I understood there were people much wealthier.

By the time I was ten I also began to see and understand that these seemingly idyllic lives were far from perfect. Families dealing with a functioning alcoholic patriarch that lead to a household dancing around the issue of embarrassment and fear especially related to friends and company. While they were rich to me, they were in fact just middle class people dealing with real, everyday problems including the stresses and strains of finances and teens. It was my first insight into “keeping up with the Joneses.” My experiences were great overall, as I was blessed with good, kind families who went to great lengths to make me welcome in their homes. The experience did however remove any of the idealisms I had about middle class nuclear family households. They clearly had their problems too and even with two parents and a safe neighborhood, they were not immune to the difficulties of teenage rebellion and drugs and alcohol.

When the Cosby show arrived I probably had a jaded view of families in general, but the dynamics set forth on the small screen gave me hope for what I could possibly attain for my future. At the very least it was just refreshing to see such positive images of a Black family on television. On an even more personal level the Cosby show resonated with me because of my relationship with two of the Cosby kids, and I’m not talking Theo and Rudy but two of the real Cosby kids.

I went to high school with one of his daughters and Ennis his only son. At one point I was close with the daughter and grew very close to Ennis during high school and years later just prior to his passing. Out of respect, for those once strong relationships, I will refrain from any personal context of things said, but of course I had my own observations.

It was interesting to watch Cliff Huxtable on television interacting with characters who were based on and really did resemble my two friends. There was an irony from my perspective as well. This great communicator who was so involved in all of his kids lives was conspicuously absent from the lives of at least two of his children. Let me be more specific by what I mean.

There were numerous events, games and other activities in which his children participated in the two years I went to school with them in which Cosby simply was not present. His wife attended many of the functions and was visible, often with her two youngest in tow. I never once saw Bill on campus during this period and while you can’t hold me to this, I don’t think he was even there for his daughter’s graduation.

He was clearly a fixture in their lives and I am aware of time the family spent together during school holidays and vacations, just not at the school itself. We can all imagine how busy Cosby was during this run, but keep in mind he owned TWO (2) private jets and our school was approximately ninety minutes outside NYC.

On top of that it was my understanding that Cosby spent many of the weekends either performing in Atlantic City or just there for gambling. Only he could ever accurately explain why he avoided the high school during that two-year period, with Ennis actually making the Varsity basketball team as a freshman, but I know it did have some effect on his children. Again it is not my place to say what I know or even think on the matter, except to say that we can all imagine the awkwardness of being sired by America’s father only to watch him spend more time with actors and watch it with your peers.

Whatever understanding I may have had before, this experience cemented the dismissive notion of ever looking up to athletes or actors as role models, simply because they are on television. There are of course many public figures who should and do serve as role models, but that is because their actions have been consistent and deserving of emulation.

I guess I was just early to the party of looking at Bill as less than the images he so magnificently projected on the screen every week. Like Scarface and the Godfather do not make Pacino and DeNiro the prototype for gangsters, I saw the Cosby show by itself did not make Bill our prototype for fathers. Cliff Huxtable has not changed…he is not a failure to our ideals, but only further proof that actors are only fallible humans as imperfect as you and I.

Most of the real heroes in our society are not famous, even largely unknown. Men and women who’s lives are dedicated to selfless actions. Our teachers, firefighters, community service workers are just a few of the unheralded who deserve our respect and emulation not people who have simply achieved fame. These are not mutually exclusive qualities, but understand that fame is mostly about perception and perception is easily manipulated. People doing real good…that is an objective standard.

#Bill Cosby