Chris Brown’s got F.A.M.E., but he’s having a hard time finding respect.
There was near-universal Twitter outrage Sunday at the singer’s double Grammy performance and best R&B album win for his 2011 album F.A.M.E. Three years ago, on the eve of the same awards, Brown beat, choked and bit then-girlfriend Rihanna. The singer turned himself in the same day and pleaded guilty to felony assault.
So, how about we cut the guy some slack?
I know! I know! He’s an offender. But he’s also a member of society, and we can’t expect him to crawl under a rock and never be heard from again.
I’m not talking about cozying up to the cringe-worthy fringe of women who tweeted Sunday during the awards that Brown was so hot he could beat them any time. (Shudder.)
Those women made an inadvertent noteworthy point, though — it’s not just toothless hillbillies who abuse their partners.
It’s men (and women) from all socio-economic, religious and ethnic backgrounds. It’s anyone.
"It’s not an us-and-them camp for me," says Jane Donovan, a therapist at New Start Counselling, a Halifax agency supporting men who abuse intimate partners.
"It lives inside of all of us, the potential to hurt someone. We are all abusers. It’s just that some of us are stopping ourselves before we do it. And some of us are not."
Beating up your partner is a choice, then. But being an abuser? That’s not so clear-cut. The response to Chris Brown’s Grammy performances shouldn’t be either.
It’s common to talk about men and women who commit crimes as a breed of human divorced from the rest of us. They are bad; we are good.
"We are much more multifaceted than that," says Donovan. "Chris Brown is a perfect example. He’s a big rock star, as well (as being known for his felony). We all are multi-identitied. We are all many, many things."
OK, maybe you’re not buying a ticket on this sympathy train. Maybe you’re a lock-’em-up-and-throw-away-the-key sort. But consider this: people who commit crimes, from car thieves to stock swindlers to pimps to domestic abusers, may or may not serve time in jail, may or may not feel remorse, may or may not repeat their crimes.
But here’s one certainty: they all eventually return to our communities and neighbourhoods.
They grow old, work, marry, have kids, pay taxes, shop at Costco, and drink Tim Hortons cappuccinos. Hindering that return for vindication’s sake, as in the case of the Twitterverse vs. Chris Brown, might feel satisfying, but it helps no one. Not the person who’s committed the crime, and definitely not the society he or she’s ultimately, inescapably, part of.
Granted, getting back on track with two Grammy performance slots isn’t exactly picking up where you left off at Majestic Muffler or the University of Whatsits. The Grammys are a celebration. A big deal. And Brown’s appearances came off as a too-early all-is-forgiven.
But music is Brown’s job. It has been since he cut his first album at 16. The industry could take his career away from him — deny him a spot on the stage and refuse to release his songs; the media could ignore him. But to what end?
So he becomes a less productive member of society? So a nasty criminal isn’t a role model?
Since when has mass culture been concerned with the calibre of its idols? Securities fraudster Martha Stewart still has an empire. Robert Downey Jr. still acts. Raping a 13-year-old girl has been no career barrier for Roman Polanski.
Chris Brown is still in the middle of five years’ probation. But he’s also living a sentence in the court of Twitter. And who’s that helping? No one.
Lezlie Lowe is a freelance writer in Halifax. Follow her on Twitter @lezlielowe.
