I rewatched ‘The Cosby Show’ and it was brutal
I watched “The Cosby Show” for the first time in a year over the weekend. Last fall, I unofficially swore off the series that raised me after countless rape and sexual assault allegations against Bill Cosby resurfaced in the news. My decision not to watch the show (before the scandal broke I ran an annual marathon), is not entirely ethical. That doesn’t seem “right,” but not just because of the nature of the allegations against the 78-year-old comedian. Honestly, I’m afraid I won’t be able to enjoy my favorite black sitcom anymore or worse, I’ll actually enjoy it and then I’ll feel guilty.
By desperately watching something I once loved, I’m protecting my own nostalgia. Nostalgia is a powerful thing. It shapes identities, distorts memories, and sits precariously at the intersection between bitter and sweet. Rewatching “The Cosby Show,” following Cosby’s recent arrangement, is the very definition of bittersweet. There is a lot of weight in this show, its legacy, its cultural impact, and the impact it has had on me personally. To me, like so many other black people who grew up with the show during its original run or through reruns, the Huxtables were more than just a collection of colorful, fictional television characters. They are closer to family. I watched two of my favorite episodes — one where Vanessa runs off to go “have fun with The Wretched” and gets criticized by Claire Huxtable in a way only a black mother could, and one episode where Theo desires an expensive Gordon Gartrell shirt to impress a girl. My favorite part: Theo’s hiss as he screams “Denise!” from upstairs, and the subsequent revelation of the knock-off shirt his sister made for him in all its funky glory. I gasped at some of the jokes, even at moments I’ve seen hundreds of times. I get the same warm feeling I always do when I see the Huxtable family gathered together on the couch in their brownstone living room or hear the fun theme song paired with the iconic credits. icon. But mixed in with all that familiarity, as expected, is a feeling of unease and insecurity every time Cliff Huxtable appears on screen. His knowing smile, his playful teasing, and his witty one-liners all feel disjointed and out of place. Maybe even a little sinister. It’s fascinating because nothing has changed about this show. But everything has changed.
There has been a lot of debate about what to do with “The Cosby Show” in the wake of Cosby’s rape scandal. Some have questioned whether it makes sense to pull the series from streaming and streaming services. They argue that, regardless of whether you “believe” that Bill Cosby is a rapist or not, people can still separate the man from the film’s character and legacy. And yet, how can you separate two things that are so intrinsically connected? When reports of Bill Cosby’s implied history of sexual abuse surfaced again last year, part of me wanted to maintain a distinction between Bill Cosby, the accused serial rapist, and Cliff Huxtable, Dad. of America. I think, in some cases, an argument can be made to separate an entertainer’s personal life, no matter how messy it may be, from how a person feels about their art. But Cosby’s use of his Cliff Huxtable persona as leverage for allegedly perpetrating and concealing his attacks makes it impossible for me to do so.
In its heyday, “The Cosby Show” was groundbreaking. But its importance and cultural impact are as much tied to when it was released as to how American pop culture interacts with black people. Its legacy has reverberated through television and popular culture, informing and paving the way for television shows from “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” to “Black-ish.”
The show, its legacy, and Cosby’s persona as the wholesome savior of the black community were used as “proof” of his innocence following the many accusations against him . “I respect a man who has done more for the image of Brown people than most people will EVER have to do,” singer Jill Scott said in 2014.
One cannot deny the impact the show had in its early days or its importance to the black community. But what “The Cosby Show” meant in 1984 is very different from what it means in 2016. And implying that the show’s social impact alone is a more convincing sign of its innocence Cosby compares the testimony of 60 women about his guilt. into the trap of nostalgia.
