Dylan Farrow And When People Love Your Abuser
This is a hard topic. Our brains want to make it seem complicated because we want life to be easy, but life was never easy and it wasn’t meant to be. It’s not a complicated topic, but it is a hard topic.
Dylan Farrow is a perennial reminder that maybe we’re doing something wrong. She’s like the video of a house hanging over the ocean because acid waves have eaten away the beach, and we think, “At least I drive a Prius!” or “At least I stopped eating fast food!” In the same way, I have talked to many people who read about Dylan Farrow’s story of childhood molestation from Woody Allen, or, more recently read her own account in her own words, and want to disbelieve her. It is complicated, their brains object, because Mia Farrow may have convinced Dylan of her story. It’s not Dylan’s fault, but she could still be wrong. This is like people who say volcanoes, not humans, are causing greenhouse gasses.
Dylan Farrow is still there, the house hanging over the cliff.
The reason our brains try to make this so complicated, for those of us where it seems complicated, is that we like Woody Allen’s movies, and we want to hate anything to do with a child molester. We want to be 100% black and white on that issue because if we’re not, do we even have a conscience?