Last night, The New York Times posted Woody Allen’s response to daughter Dylan Farrow’s allegations that he molested her as a child which, he writes, will be his final word on the matter. If it is, then he has done himself no favors. The entire thing is a revolting display of arrogance and entitlement, and, in my opinion, only further supports Dylan Farrow’s story, as Allen’s justifications, mistruths and attacks fit those of an unrepentant sociopath and child abuser. If the Times actually edited op-eds, they would have had a fact-checking mess on their hands. It’s worth noting that almost every defense/excuse Allen makes in his piece was also used in that godawful piece on The Daily Beast, which led me to wonder if Allen used it as a reference. Keep reading »
It’s not that I don’t think a human being who is accused of something does not have the right to respond or defend himself But the possibility that Woody Allen may use the New York Times op-ed page to respond to the sexual abuse allegations published on Sunday by his daughter Dylan Farrow is veering into “He Said/She Said” realm that should make us all feel uncomfortable. Keep reading »
The reaction to Dylan Farrow’s New York Times article about sexual abuse she allegedly suffered as a young girl at the hands of Woody Allen has gotten even murkier this week. Mia Farrow, 28-year-old Dylan’s mom, and Lena Dunham have both voiced their support. But Moses Farrow, one of Mia’s other adopted children, has publicly sided with his father, telling People magazine that Mia was “vengeful” and “drummed it into me to hate my father.”
Oh dear. Keep reading »
I woke up the morning after feeling irritated, a clutching pain behind my eyes. Alert, but not wanting to do anything. There it was, that vague feeling of dis-ease, a familiar disconnection.
It’s difficult to admit how personally triggered I was by Dylan Farrow’s open letter in The New York Times. I would rather ignore it, throw myself into work or blame the feeling on something else— maybe I’m mad at my boyfriend. Maybe it’s my body; maybe I could make the way I’m feeling about the way I look— but that’s not the truth. I know what’s wrong and— like Farrow’s story itself, it’s worth saying out loud.
It was less Farrow’s letter than it was people’s reactions that had upset me. “Friends” on Facebook jumped to Woody Allen’s defense, many posting that awful piece on Daily Beast as if it were some kind of counterpoint. Yeah, it’s Facebook, I know I shouldn’t care. But my connections to people, however they come, are important. And besides, some of these people were friends in real life, individuals that I used to trust and respect. That trust and respect was gone.
Reading through comments, I found myself sickened. I mean, if it’s your position that you don’t know what happened, why say anything at all? Why re-enforce the message to survivors that we won’t be believed? That we’re making it up and anyways, who cares?
This is exactly what perpetrators do, I thought to myself. This is exactly what makes our traumas traumatic. Keep reading »