On February 3rd,
Stephen King felt compelled to comment on Dylan Farrow’s open letter accusing
Woody Allen of sexual abuse. The author took to Twitter saying “Boy, I’m
stumped on that one. I don’t like to think it’s true, and there’s an element of
palpable bitchery there, but…”
Unsurprisingly, King’s remark was
met with an avalanche of criticism. And rightly so. By choosing the term
“bitchery” King managed to both antagonize Farrow and trivialize her claims.
The word “bitch” has long been a popular tool for excoriating a difficult
woman. Difficult often because she is expressing a strong opinion, refusing to
adhere to conventions of femininity, or (as in Farrow’s case) holding a man
accountable for his misdeeds. And the B-word aside, a flippant response to such
a sensitive case is staggeringly inappropriate.
After the Internet called him out
for his comment, King responded with “Have no opinion on the accusations; hope
they’re not true. Probably used the wrong word.” He then rounded out the
response with a plea for clemency, stating “still learning my way around this
thing” in reference to the massive social networking platform he had chosen to
air his thoughts from. Ignorant celebrity Twitter gaffs are a dime a dozen. But
anyone who has spent half a century on the New York Times Bestseller list should
be accustomed to having his words reach millions of people.
Where to begin with this worthless
non-apology? The fact that he was only willing to cede that bitchery was “probably”
the wrong word to use? The failure to realize that having “no opinion”
typically amounts to saying nothing? Ultimately, the worst thing about the
response is that it echoes the most insidious part of the original comment:
“Don’t like to think it’s true” becomes “I hope it’s not true.”
That’s his public response to the
news of alleged sexual abuse: I hope it’s
not true.
For who’s sake does King hope
it’s not true? Dylan Farrow’s? Many in Allen’s camp have claimed that the
memory was falsely implanted by a bitter, jilted Mia Farrow. Does Stephen King
“hope” that Farrow was psychologically abused by one parent, rather than
sexually abused by the other? Or is he just holding out hope that the woman is
blatantly lying? Does Stephen King “hope,” for her own good, that Farrow made
the whole thing up out of pure, vindictive bitchery?
More likely, he hopes that the
accusations aren’t true for Woody Allen’s sake. It stands to reason that an
aging writer who produced a few seminal works followed by decades of relentless
mediocrity would be inclined to stick up for someone who’s career followed a
similar trajectory. More likely, he and Allen are friends. It is an emotional
and ethical struggle to accept that someone close to you might be capable of
harming a child. Many handle it by closing their eyes and ears.
We all hope that bad news isn’t
true. When something terrible happens (especially to a child), our minds reject
the terrible reality of it. But this is not just a matter of rejecting a
painful reality, this is about denying a young woman’s right to be heard. In
her open letter, Farrow expresses profound frustration at the world turning a
blind eye to what she went through. People turn a blind eye when they don’t
want something to be true.
From the perspective of a
survivor, such skepticism further complicates the labyrinth of recovery.
Whether the trauma is recent or long-buried, victims are tasked with putting
the pieces together. The pieces fit in all kinds of different formations, and
it’s easy to reach the conclusion that there was a misunderstanding, that they
– and not their attacker – are really at fault, or that they really did make
the whole thing up.
It is unlikely that the
Farrow-Allen scandal will ever be an open and shut case. Hollywood and the
media are battling over the fractured memories of a wounded child. There are no
definitive answers. But even if it turned out that it really wasn’t true, even
if the whole thing was a deliberate fabrication to besmirch Woody Allen’s
good(ish) name, then Stephen King would still be accountable for dismissing it
so casually. By responding in the way that he did, he publicly contributed to a
culture of skepticism and victim-blaming that continues to wreck lives every
day.
Survivors of sexual abuse – in
addition to dealing with the pain of their ordeal - often face a dual
reluctance when attempting to share their story: it might be “I can’t accept
that this happened because I care about you” or it might be “I can’t accept
that this happened because I care about the person you’re accusing.” In the
latter case, the attachment might be born of a personal connection. Or it might
be a case where the accused is so admired that the world considers them above
reproach.
Sexual abuse is always difficult
to accept, and the majority of cases take place in a grey area of accountability
and intent. For survivors, this often means living in a world that would rather
give their abuser the benefit of the doubt then get them the help they need.
Stephen King likely meant no harm
by saying he hoped Dylan Farrow was lying. Still, “I don’t like to think it’s
true” is a step towards denial and away from helping a survivor feel supported
and safe. When confronted with such troubling cases, the pull of denial is
dangerously strong. Casting doubt on an accusation makes it even stronger. The master
of horror should think before he Tweets.
