Ok we're going to get this out at the top: this is NOT about continuing to consume media from terrible creators. I'm not here to be a Rowling apologist, to say "well (x) is terrible but here's why it's okay to keep reading/watching/buying", or anything of that nature. This is about me, about my experiences with terrible people both public and private, and how I cope with the knowledge that people who gave me good memories were/are instrumental in traumatizing others.
Okay? Okay.
If I had a nickel for every childhood mentor of mine that was revealed to be a child predator, I would have two nickels (that I'm aware of). It's not a lot, but it's WILD that it happened twice.
Both were, unsurprisingly, white men and church leaders. Both were people I respected immensely. Both attended my wedding. One dedicated my firstborn child. Both gave me advice and support that shaped my early career and made it possible for me to move forward with the dreams and goals of my young adult life! Their voices still echo in my mind with sage wisdom that helps me to this day.
One was arrested by the Department of Homeland Security for his part in a CSAM ring. One was outed as a predator by his own child.
This all took place years ago, but I still have nightmares where I see them, where they try to talk to me, where they react negatively to the person I've become, and in those dreams I can't (for whatever dream reasons) scream from the rooftops that they're disgusting monsters, that they have no right to speak to me about my life, that they failed me and everyone who ever believed in them.
My chosen name, Ronnie, began as the abbreviation of a ridiculous AIM screen name of a nerdy teenager: Ronisthecutest. I was just old enough for instant messaging, and absolutely obsessed with a certain wizard school book series. My crush on a redheaded wizard would define a lot of my adolescence.
I grew, and found other interests, but the name Ronnie stuck -- as did my fondness for the world that sparked my childhood imagination. I certainly didn't believe it was perfect, and even critiqued it as I grew. Admittedly, at this point in my life I was woefully uneducated on my own internalized racism, and I failed to recognize most of the red flags in the writing. I still recognized that it was not the end-all of fantasy.
The author showed her whole ass ages before my child came out as trans to me--long before I recognized my own transness. Still, it was difficult to hear. Yet the course of action was obvious. I haven't purchased or consumed any of her media since I learned about her. My children have grown up with the knowledge that she is a terrible person and that is why we do not read her books, watch her movies, or anything of the sort.
A different author of the fantastical came into my life just when I began to unpack the deeply held beliefs with which I had been raised. As a sheltered home schooler, I'd never consumed his works until I learned about him from a friend in college.
My very ace and raised-conservative sensibilities balked at some of Mr. Gaiman's racier content, but I still found several of his works deeply beautiful and meaningful. A quote from one of his books affected me deeply and encouraged me as I grappled with deconstructing my faith. It was sickening and crushing to learn what he had been doing to women, and repugnant that he refused to apologize or even confess wrongdoing. I never touched his books again.
All of these people, especially the two I knew personally, live on in my head. Their words bounce around in my brain, frightening and fueling me in equal measure. It hurts my heart that people who said things deeply meaningful and formative to me are capable of such hateful and disgusting actions, and choose daily to inflict harm on the world.
I have seen the good they can do. I have seen the evil they choose to do. I keep both close to me.
I keep the good because I refuse to let them take from me what they imparted. No evil they do can wrench away good that is already embedded in my heart. I keep the good to remember that even the most despicable person is capable of kindness, and can choose to become different--better. It is a long road to redemption (Rabbi Danya Ruttenberg has written the seminal work on repentance, and you should really check it out), but it is attainable for anyone who chooses it. Even if they do not, their good words and kindness live on without them, inside me, to be shaped and shared with the world.
I keep the evil because the possibility of redemption does not mean its inevitability. I keep it because just as anyone can choose to be better, they can also choose to be worse--anyone can become a monster. I keep it to remember that every act of love I share with the world can be polluted by my own ignorance, hatefulness, or callousness if I so choose. I keep it so that nobody rests on the pedestal my young mind set up for people who stepped down into darkness.
The fondness we keep in our hearts for those who have done harm does not mean continued support of their darkness. It does not excuse complicity in their continued harm.
I can keep them in my heart, and still condemn their actions.
Watch another fucking TV show.