Jordan Ori
Close

In the past weeks, the internet was ablaze with discourse surrounding the Jake Paul vs. Mike Tyson fight that aired on Netflix, and I can’t lie — I got sucked into the drama. I found myself agreeing with those who aired their grievances about the imbalanced fight — a 27-year-old is not a fair match for a 58-year-old, regardless of how great they once were. I scrolled and scrolled through posts that infantilized Tyson, simultaneously portraying him as a sweet old man. But then, between silly videos of Tyson in a bee costume, I remembered something — doesn’t he have rape allegations?

I rushed to Google to find out I was wrong. It was not just an allegation but rather a 1992 rape conviction. Tyson is a registered sex offender who served three years of a 10-year sentence in prison for his crimes. Although he maintains his innocence, Tyson stated in a 2003 interview, “I just hate her guts. She put me in that state, where I don’t know … I really wish I did now. But now I really do want to rape her.” Additionally, Paul was accused of sexual assault by influencer Justine Paradise in 2021, but he immediately shut down the rumors, stating, “Not only have I never had any sexual relationship with this individual, but this claim is solely a manufactured accusation and a blatant attempt for attention during a highly visible fight week.”

It is possible, then, that Netflix knowingly platformed two sex offenders for nothing but a quick cash grab — despite Tyson’s conviction, meaning a jury decided beyond a reasonable doubt that he was guilty, he was granted a massive platform, reportedly made around $20 million from the Netflix fight and garnered support across the internet. Paul is rumored to have made around $40 million. It is exhausting to see these men slip through the bars time and time again and even become beloved once more, especially for their careers.

When a victim comes forward with allegations of sexual assault, they are often met with hesitation or straight-up disbelief. This has caused many, particularly men on the internet, to label victims as liars when they come forward. I have constantly seen on social media people lamenting about how false rape allegations ruin lives, and I can not help but find this laughable. Don’t get me wrong, false rape allegations are awful, but they are not prevalent, with the National Sexual Violence Resource Center estimating that 2 to 8 percent of sexual assault allegations are false. This is minuscule in the grand scheme of sex crimes, and yet, the idea that they are destroying lives is a constant subject of discourse.

However, it should be noted that the power balance in allegations can and has historically been skewed when it is a Black man being accused. Due to racist dogma ingrained in Western society, even deeply misogynistic white men will sometimes suspend their disbelief of sexual assault allegations to push a racist agenda. Take, for example, the case of Alice Sebold and Anthony Broadwater. In 1982, Sebold, a white woman, was brutally assaulted by a Black man, alleged to be Broadwater. Sebold would go on to write a harrowing memoir called “Lucky,” and Broadwater would spend 16 years in prison and life after as a registered sex offender before being exonerated in 2021 with new evidence. While investigators took advantage of Sebold’s trauma and pressured her into incorrectly identifying Broadwater in a lineup, they did not care about finding the culprit who assaulted Sebold but rather just wanted to put a Black man behind bars as quickly as possible, doing an injustice to both Sebold and Broadwater, allowing the real rapist to roam free and casting doubt on rape allegations moving forward.

Regardless, there is an ongoing trend of male public figures being able to overcome sexual abuse allegations and confirmed instances of sexual abuse with either time or general cognitive dissonance. The lack of accountability for famous men spills over from the courts. In 2023, actor Kevin Spacey, who was on trial for nine counts of sexual misconduct against four different men, was acquitted of all charges and this May, Spacey’s lawyers challenged a “London court ruling which effectively found him liable for an alleged sexual assault on a British man, after his lawyers mistakenly failed to serve a defence to a civil lawsuit.” Similarly, in April, a New York appeals court overturned and ordered a new trial for former film producer Harvey Weinstein’s sex crimes convictions, which previously had him serving a 23-year sentence for first-degree criminal sexual act and third-degree rape.

Some media outlets, particularly right-wing ones, would have you believe that we have an epidemic of cancel culture. But if not all rapists lose their careers, how can this possibly be true? I think there are two main reasons why abusive men often do not lose their careers — influence and cognitive dissonance. Regarding the former, it is completely plausible that if a public figure has enough money or influence, they can simply make things go away. The latter, which I find more compelling, revolves around cognitive dissonance — essentially, a conscious or subconscious willingness to overlook a celebrity’s criminal history due to personal admiration or attachment to them or their art.

Let’s take, for example, Chris Brown. Brown remains a beloved figure in the music industry by many, and his 2023 Under the Influence Tour sold out all 19 dates in minutes. However, it is well-known that in 2009, Brown brutally assaulted his then-girlfriend and pop superstar Rihanna. Leaked photos showed the graphic damage he did to her face, and in a police report, she stated that Brown punched and choked her until she was almost unconscious while threatening to kill her. Brown then pleaded guilty to felony assault and received five years probation with community service. Yet Brown still makes hits, maintains a loyal fanbase and attends public events — he is just one example of many abusive male celebrities who maintain their careers after allegations or convictions.

I am all for separating the art from the artist, but only in certain circumstances — specifically, when the controversial figure is no longer alive. For example, I still enjoy music from The Beatles, even though John Lennon was known to be a domestic abuser because he is no longer alive to benefit from my support. In contrast, this perspective does not apply to someone like Brown, who is still alive and actively profiting from his work. Supporting his art indirectly enables and perpetuates his success, which, knowing what we know about him, is undeniably unethical.

So I ask then, has cancel culture gone far enough, and why does it not apply to these men? In the rare instances when women are accused of abuse, such as with Amber Heard, the public is ready and willing to destroy their careers, so why not with men? I believe that people can grow and change, but rape is a morally indefensible crime and should automatically end one’s career, such as, for example, Tyson being blacklisted from boxing competitions. Rape and other forms of abuse are not minor lapses in judgment or mistakes that can be chalked up to immaturity or ignorance — they are violent crimes that leave lasting trauma on survivors. Moving forward, we as consumers of entertainment must sever ties with these men despite how much we may have liked them at a time to send a clear message to Hollywood that abusers have no place in the media. This is not a suggestion but a moral obligation we all hold.

Jordan Ori is a junior majoring in English and is a Pipe Dream Opinions intern.

Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the staff editorial.