Why do we sanctify American 'heroes' even when they hurt women?

“Because every time I said no he tightened his hold around me.” 

This is what the woman who accused the late NBA superstar, Kobe Bryant, of rape told the police the day after this experience, according to the Daily Beast. These words play like a broken record in my brain. They’re all I hear amid a sea of social media noise memorializing the man as a “legend” and “the greatest ever,” since news of his sudden death broke on Sunday. Is our cultural collective memory so limited we’ve forgotten this woman’s words, or are we so desperate to hang on to our male heroes that we don’t care to hold them accountable for hurting women? 

Either way, I’m saddened and sick. I am saddened for Bryant’s family, and the families of all of the victims killed in the same tragic accident. No one deserves to lose loved ones, let alone their own life, in such a manner no matter what they’ve done during their life. But I’m also saddened for the woman whose words ring in my ears. How must she feel seeing countless memorials and tributes sanctifying the man at the center of her story of a violent and brutal rape? America chooses to once again believe him over her, and to continue to discredit, minimize, and ignore her alleged assault. 

All of this, despite the bruise on her neck consistent with her allegations that he choked her. All of this, despite his decision to recant his denial of these allegations after authorities disclosed that the alleged victim submitted to a physical exam and his eventual semi-confession. I wonder if those lauding Bryant not just for his unquestionable basketball talent, but for his humanity, have ever heard these details — or if they have and just don’t care. I hope for the former, but I fear the latter, and that awareness makes my stomach turn. 

Bryant’s athletic prowess does not entitle him to the cultural benefit of the doubt, placing his protection over that of his alleged victim. I’m not the only woman who believes this, who is sick over the cultural sanctification of someone else’s alleged abuser. Author Sady Doyle weighed in on social media, and GEN Medium writer and author Jessica Valenti made it the subject of her weekly column. Washington Post reporter Felicia Sonmez was suspended by the publication after tweeting a link to an article describing this 2003 rape allegation against Bryant. 

We’re told that #MeToo is a sexual violence reckoning, that it is bringing us one step closer to  perpetrators of rape and harassment finally being met with the cultural condemnation and consequences they deserve. And, to be sure, survivors of sexual harassment and violence are standing up for one another, demanding social repercussions and recompense on each other’s behalf, and filling the gaping void left by a justice system that rarely delivers victims a just result now more than ever.

But the men supposedly brought down by #MeToo — like Harvey Weinstein, Bill Cosby, and Jeffrey Epstein — demonstrate that it takes double-digit numbers of victims and decades of abuse to bring the most culturally heralded and successful men to justice. Those who go unpunished not only continue on with little to no social sanctions, but are rewarded with Oscars, lifetime tenures on the Supreme Court, and the American presidency. 

This societal tendency to insist on paying a deranged homage to men accused of horrible acts is not only disturbing, but dangerous. It sends the message that talented, wealthy, successful men get a pass for gendered violence and reinforces rape culture. And if this violence is callously, or even casually, overlooked whenever necessary to preserve our precious image of our most beloved cultural “giants among men,” then why would any woman ever report her assault or abuse? If allegations of rape are not viewed seriously enough to lessen a man’s legacy, what does that say about how little we value the life of the woman hurt by him? 

But even if Bryant’s chauvinistic champions still refuse to listen to or believe women, even if Bryant’s actions still don’t warrant a #MeToo reckoning by our current standards, these women can no longer be silenced. And their message is clear: Stop making heroes out of men who do monstrous things. 

It’s time to reimagine what it means to be an American hero, and sexual violence should be disqualifying. For American culture to truly become less misogynist and safer for women, we must start sanctioning men who commit misogynistic, violent acts with serious, lasting consequences and stop sanctifying them. Victims’ claims must count even when they counter the image of the most iconic American men. It’s hard to admit that the most talented among us are fallible and imperfect, and despite placing our faith in them, they will sometimes fail us. Some sins we can forgive and forget, but there are some so egregious, so criminal, so socially and morally unsanctioned as to be — if not unforgivable — then at least unforgettable. 

Rape is wrong. It’s criminal, despite the fact that too many perpetrators escape criminal punishment. Although eternal penance for past crimes may not be warranted, the privilege of being a cultural hero must be denied. Better to be a country of fallen heroes than a country that continues to let women take the fall.