falling off pedestals

The tattoo on my forearm is new; up until a month I was tattoo-less. My daughter had been begging me for years to get one with her, something that would share a common context, a bond between us. I finally relented. Inspired by the Brand New album The Devil and God Are Raging Inside Me, the act symbolized our shared love of each other, and of Brand New, our shared favorite band.

55 years old and I got a band tattoo. It doesn’t outwardly say “Brand New” on it, but I know what it is and when I got it, it meant a lot to me. The band got me through some rough times, and also gave me wonderful, shared experiences with my kids. So I have hero-worshiped at the altar of Jesse Lacey and his band.

And now, this.

I first heard about it when someone sent me a DM on twitter with a link to the article. I literally gasped when I read it, then immediately felt a wave of anger, disgust, sadness, at least a dozen emotions all at once. I read the piece, then did a little research and came away feeling even worse.

I tend to stay a good distance away from the personal stories of bands/artists I like. I don’t need to know the gossip. I don’t need to know how many kids they have or where they went to school or who is dating who. I just want to listen to good music and not get involved in the day to day intricacies of the musicians I otherwise love. So it was a surprise to me when I texted my son about it and he responded with “tell me something I don’t know” and went on to say that everyone knew Jesse Lacey was always kind of a creep.

Everyone but me. And now I’m left here with all these feelings, an inner turmoil, a conflict of interest. How can I go on loving Brand New, listening to them, enjoying their music when this has happened? When someone says they have been victimized by the man who makes the music I love?

The deluge of stories about sexual misconduct can be overwhelming for anyone, let alone for someone who has been at the receiving end of such “misconduct.” You read these stories from hurt, devastated women and you feel for them, you experience an empathy that threatens to tear at your soul. You might feel anger toward the perpetrator. You feel something, anyhow. Disgust, probably. You think “men are gross and inappropriate.” You judge from afar. How could that celebrity not know better? How could he be so cruel and self-serving? Does he not know he damaged a young girl, a woman, forever? And then it happens. One of those stories comes out — another in a long line of sordid tales — and it’s about someone you admired. A hero of sorts.

I go to the Brand New Reddit page and lurk. I see the people making excuses. I see the people who prefer not to believe the accuser. This is how it happens in all these cases, whether it be Roy Moore or Louis CK or a teacher at your local high school. People tend to defend their beloved icons in these situations.

Not me. I believe women. I believe women who come forward when it’s only going to hurt them emotionally to do so. I believe women who have everything to lose and nothing to gain by putting themselves in the spotlight in order to bring public a major transgression by a celebrity.

I never told anyone about my sexual assault — at least not until I wrote about it recently. I never told anyone because of the shame and because of fear of not being believed. I was just a young girl in a small town who couldn’t — wouldn’t — tell people that some teenage boys assaulted her. Can you imagine trying to tell people that a celebrity sexually abused you? Rehashing a sexual assault is not good for the soul. I know this personally. I have spent many years rehashing privately — I can’t imagine what doing it so publicly is like — and it stings, it brings a lot of dug down feelings to the surface. So I believe.

I spent some time on twitter the other day talking about Louis CK’s non-apology, and I said as a victim of sexual assault, I would never forgive my attackers. Even if they were to come to me today — over 40 years later — and apologize for what they did I would turn and walk away. Time does not absolve. “It was a long time ago” is not an excuse. Blaming the follies of youth is taking the blame away from yourself.

She was fifteen and Lacey allegedly manipulated her, groomed her, took advantage of her.

This sure changes things. It certainly changes the way I will look at some of Lacey’s lyrics now.

Barely conscious in the door where you stand.

Your eyes are fighting sleep while your mouth makes your demands

You laugh at every word trying too hard to be cute

I almost feel sorry for what I’m gonna do

Man, “Me v Maradona v Elvis” sure is creepy as fuck, I used to say. Now I wonder how much of it is someone just writing lyrics and how much is autobiographical.

I feel sick. I try to think of something else, anything else. I put on some music (Neutral Milk Hotel, they’re still good and pure, right?) and wonder how much of this is out there, how much more we’re going to hear, how many wounds will be opened, how many people will fall from pedestals. This is a terrible time for victims of sexual assault. Every day is a new accusation, a new, harsh truth, a new story. We read them, we empathize, we go back to our own harsh truths and relive them in a way. And our heroes fall one by one.

So how do you reconcile someone’s body of work with their wrongdoings? Do you stop listening, watching, reading, once someone you adore has been accused of horrible things? Do you separate the man from the music? Is that even an issue you should be concerned about?

Does it even matter? Because no matter what I do with the music of Brand New — if I stop listening, if I take a break from them, there’s always going to be that victim, and she’s always going to carry this with her. It’s about her and anyone else who was a victim. It’s not about me and my fandom. I feel guilty feeling so devastated about this, about one of my idols turning out to be a terrible person because in the large scheme of things, it’s a blip on my screen. I can stay here or move on. I can listen or not listen. I can make those choices because I wasn’t his victim, who most likely is feeling traumatized right now and can never listen to a Brand New song without feeling sick.

Still, there’s that moment of disappointment. That feeling that you’ve been let down. Maybe it’s my fault for putting him up on the pedestal to begin with. I’m a grown woman, I should know better, right?

As I write this, Jesse Lacey has put out a statement. It’s powerful, contrite, and remorseful, and he accepts responsibility for what he did. But apologies don’t erase damages. Contrition does not make the past go away. It’s not my place to forgive here, it is the place of his victims. I don’t even know if that’s what he’s seeking. And while it may move Jesse himself forward from this, it doesn’t relieve those affected of the trauma they experienced.

Don’t have heroes. Doesn’t matter what walk of life. Actors, musicians, politicians. Don’t have heroes. Because there’s a chance that pedestal you put them on will crack and crumble and you’ll be left with a hero who has broken into a hundred jagged pieces and is trying to pull themselves together. And no matter how much they glue the pieces back, they will forever be chipped, broken, damaged. Much like your heart.