Review of “Complicit” by Reah Bravo: A Revisionist History of #MeToo

In 2017, Reah Bravo was among eight women who accused her former boss, Charlie Rose, a US journalist and talk show host, of sexual misconduct. Following the initial reports by the Washington Post, an additional 27 women came forward with similar allegations. However, Bravo’s book, Complicit, is not a straightforward memoir about her experiences with Rose. Instead, it opens with a surprising and distant statement: “Enough time has passed that I can say I regret calling Charlie Rose a sexual predator,” she writes. This bold opening sets the tone for the rest of the book.

Bravo, who was a producer on Rose’s PBS show, recounted unblocking her ex-boss’s clogged toilet in a 2018 article for the New York Review of Books. The public reaction was one of outrage, but Bravo felt her message was misunderstood. She had not been "forced," as many assumed. Rather, her compliance with Rose’s demeaning requests was evidence of her “unflappable” professional demeanor. Bravo now recognizes this as a form of complicity, describing it as a “brutal recognition that the soft power of the patriarchy had its way with me.”

The book extends beyond her personal anecdotes. Bravo explores how women often blame themselves or other victims for not escaping or fighting back against their abusers. She argues that this behavior, whether conscious or unconscious, contributes to a culture that enables predatory men.

Bravo also delves into some of the most high-profile cases of sexual misconduct, including those involving Charlie Rose, Louis CK, and Harvey Weinstein. This comprehensive overview begins to feel uncontroversial upon closer examination, despite its sensational presentation. Bravo suggests that predators like Rose exist within and are sustained by a larger ecosystem in which both victims and abusers play roles. This intriguing notion, however, loses some of its initial impact as Bravo’s tone becomes more tentative and cautious. She is careful to clarify that women should not be blamed for their abusers’ actions. “Why do anything that risks calling women’s behaviour into question when such questioning is the very MO that has kept them down for millennia?” she asks, acknowledging the delicate balance she must strike.

Complicit provides a detailed history of the #MeToo movement’s rise to prominence and revisits major sexual misconduct scandals. Bravo interviews some of the women who shared their experiences with men like Rose, offering insights that go beyond what a newspaper exposé might achieve. This allows for deeper discussions about their experiences and the systemic issues at play.

The book also touches on various elements of pop culture and psychology, attributing some of the blame for institutionalized misogyny to the culture of the 1990s, including Wonderbras, neoliberalism, and individualism. While many examples feel targeted towards Gen X, attempts to broaden the scope, such as briefly mentioning Andrew Tate, seem less confident.

Bravo’s effort to understand the complexities of abuse, rather than solely blaming the abusers, is a valuable undertaking. However, the book’s central flaw lies in its narrow focus. It deals with young, ambitious women working for powerful older men in entertainment, journalism, and politics in the US. While Bravo’s experience is valid and important, this specificity may limit the book’s ability to offer a more universal diagnosis of the problem.

Complicit: How Our Culture Enables Misbehaving Men by Reah Bravo is published by Gallery (£20).

Source: The Guardian