The world was so different back then. We didn’t talk about these things except in hollow whispers. Children held no power. What did we know? Who had our backs?
For the last few days I watched, read, and listened to the storm surrounding Dylan Farrow and Woody Allen with a weird sense of wonder and glee. Yes, glee. I’m old enough to remember the accusations hurled at Allen twenty years ago and I’m thrilled they are back in the news. If I met Dylan in person I would opt for a “good work!” and a high-five.
Ever since the allegations all those years ago I’ve refused to watch a Woody Allen movie. And not because of the woman he married, but because of what he did to Dylan. It’s been one of my little stances against people who sexually abuse children. When he got that award on the Golden Globes I walked away from the TV while Diane Keaton was speaking. I find it annoying that this man has flourished. I’m embarrassed for mankind that we somehow allow this.
Forty years ago I told the adults around me what my step-father had been doing to me. Somehow my story didn’t seem credible to them and I was not believed. They did believe my step-father’s version of events. My mother even sided with him. In my world no one had my back.
I was fifteen at the time and survived. I can’t even imagine how a seven year old would feel. Thank goodness Dylan had a supportive and strong mother. I could have used that.
But the story we are all watching is not about me. I believe the story is about how we are as a society. How precious are our children? How far will be go to protect them?
We should stop the media hype, stop the lawyer talk, and stop the endless conversations and debate.
Only one thing matters…
When a child asks for help we should all step up.