It seems like every day, another high-profile man is accused of impropriety, misconduct or outright abuse. Most recently, allegations of child sexual abuse by Michael Jackson have been brought back to the forefront due to the four-hour HBO documentary, Leaving Neverland. I watched the documentary. It’s convincing, and it’s tragic. In part one, Wade Robson and James Safechuck recount childhoods spent with Jackson and, in graphic detail, outline the abuse they allege they suffered at his hands. Part two centres on the aftermath, as they attempt to come to terms with that experience. Michael Jackson is not the documentary’s subject – it’s a documentary about victims of abuse – but at the same time, it has led to a public reckoning of both the man and the artist. As our culture grapples with the misdeeds and crimes of powerful men, the easiest response is to “cancel” the perpetrators – to relegate them into a black hole, where we don’t think about them and we don’t engage with their work. As R&B singer R. Kelly’s problematic history comes under scrutiny once again, the hashtag #MuteRKelly flies around Twitter. Following allegations against singer Ryan Adams, the release of his forthcoming album was literally cancelled. With Michael Jackson, a simple “cancel” is more difficult. Jackson is one of the most ubiquitous and influential musicians in history – that legacy and influence is impossible to erase. And he’s been dead for almost a decade. While choosing to forego Ryan Adams’ or R. Kelly’s music hits those artists in the wallet, not listening to Bad won’t impact Jackson. He’s out of the reach of the consequences of his actions. On a recent episode of the podcast Still Processing, Jenna Wortham of The New York Times said the current wrestling with Jackson’s legacy shows the limits of simply “cancelling” problematic people. “One of the outgrowths of this moment that we’ve taken to calling the ‘Me Too era’ is this bigger question of what do you do with good art made by bad people?” she said. “With Michael Jackson, we have a real opportunity to acknowledge that it’s much more complicated than that. The art isn’t going anywhere, so we have to deal with thorny issues.” So the question becomes, do we continue to listen to Michael Jackson? Do we consume art created by abusers? Those are individual decisions, which must be dictated by conscience. I can only speak for myself. The next time I hear Thriller or Billie Jean – which will happen; it’s unavoidable – my head will nod along; Jackson’s music is infectious. But I also won’t be able to hear those songs without remembering the allegations against him, or thinking about the harrowing descriptions of abuse recounted in the documentary. And I probably won’t be seeking out his music any time soon.
