Surviving R. Kelly, the Danger of Complicit Silence, and What Must Happen Next

By Ernest Owens


This past weekend, as millions watched and weighed in on executive producer Dream Hampton’s six-part docuseries on Lifetime, boldly titled Surviving R. Kelly, you can feel, across social conversations, there hung a collective sense of guilt. The three-night special covered the over 25-year history of sexual abuse allegations against the R&B superstar who has continuously denied claims and avoided justice, despite the still-increasing evidence and testimony of his crimes against black girls. It featured multiple activists, musicians, legal experts, licensed psychologists, and accusers who bravely shared their perspectives on Kelly’s ability to abuse his victims while the world around him was complicit. In its wake, the Fulton County District Attorney's office in Georgia has launched an investigation into the allegations made against Kelly.


For three nights, the Lifetime series documented the rise and fall of R. Kelly’s career through candid interviews with nearly 50 people. We heard from females like Lizzette Martinez, who says she dated Kelly at age 17, eventually miscarried, and was paid $1,000 for her silence soon after allegedly contracting mononucleosis from him. Another survivor, Jerhonda Pace, alleged that she was recruited to join Kelly’s sex cult right after first meeting him while in his 2002 child pornography trial. Kelly’s accusers — which included his ex-wife, previous collaborators, and a couple of fans who shared stories of their sexual relationships with Kelly, most while underage — were labeled survivors on-screen as they gave devastating accounts of the trauma they endured from a musician several of those initially described as a “genius.”


The docuseries also featured never-before-seen testimonies from the males in Kelly’s life — his brothers, collaborators, personnel, and industry peers — who often enabled his obscene behavior. Bruce Kelly, R. Kelly’s older brother, tried to defend his sibling’s alleged pedophilia as simply being “a preference,” and later expressed joy once he was acquitted on child pornograpy expenses back in 2002. Kelly’s former assistant, Demetrius Smith, also admitted to having coordinated the forgery of the late R&B singer Aaliyah’s marriage license while in her wedding to Kelly any time while she was only 14-years-old. We were told by Kelly’s producer Craig Williams that “everyone knew” of the singer’s penchant for propositioning underage females in high schools.


Despite all of that documentation, R. Kelly keeps it up and continues to deny all allegations launched against him. Since the docuseries’ close, Kelly’s team has been adamantly discrediting his accusers and denying any of the revelations unmasked while in those televised six hours. It should also be noted that Kelly threatened to sue Lifetime prior to the series airing and has plans to create a website called Surviving Lies to contest his accusers.


I don’t believe or support R. Kelly, and neither should anyone else.


Black females have been leading the rallying cry against Kelly, whose alleged actions are really just one manifestation of the general mistreatment of black ladies in culture. For decades, they have simultaneously been open about their lack of support. The growing chorus of boys speaking in solidarity is slowly growing, nevertheless even more critical to progress is the necessary for us as males to begin holding ourselves responsible for the biases we personally hold. There must be a reckoning with the misogynoir that we let to run rampant in our own lives. It's time for more boys to finally speak out against sexual abuse and violence. Where have we been? What were we doing? Why were we silent?


These were the inquiries I asked myself as I watched each episode. Though I personally stopped supporting R. Kelly years back, I started to ponder why males weren’t as vocal while in the rise of the #MuteRKelly movement, myself included. No other excuse could come to my mind other than the fact that I presumed it was just a women’s provide and I should simply fall back. As women’s voices have continued to be amplified throughout the #MeToo movement, I often struggled to identify my role. I didn’t hope to center myself as a gentleman or take up also much space once other girls would be given the spotlight. Unfortunately, as a result, I alternatively chose inaction rather than exploring proactive ways to get involved. Nevertheless a number of Black girls activists and voices on social media — individuals like like Tarana Burke, Feminista Jones, Jamilah Lemieux, Leslie Mac, and multiple others — have underlined a key point: Falling back is a disservice to Black ladies. Especially once CDC data reports that more than four in ten Black females experience physical violence from an intimate partner throughout their lifetimes.


To simply put the responsibility on Black ladies to fight against the misogyny they face alone — although they also fight for civil rights for each person else across the aisle — is selfish and unfair. Misogynoir, the term coined by Black queer feminist Moya Bailey, expresses how misogyny directed towards Black girls is often more severe as the intersections of both their race and gender is being targeted. According to a 2018 crowdsourced study from Amnesty International, data show that Black ladies were 84 percent more likely than white girls to be disproportionately targeted online with one in ten tweets mentioning Black girls was “abusive or problematic,” compared to one in 15 for white girls. What we are doing by turning to a blind eye towards the trauma Black females face is only furthering the problem afflicted. In this regard, silence becomes violence.


While the media often covers these issues impacting white females, Black females are always given far less attention. It took years before #MeToo founder Tarana Burke was finally acknowledged on a national level for her critical work in raising awareness around sexual harassment and abuse. It’s time for all boys to work towards resolving these disparities.


Contributing meaningfully to the cause will require males to create the honest decisions to shut off toxic masculinity in public configuration, call out and cut off misogynistic companions and family member, report known abusers in your workplaces, support Black girls who are telling their stories through film, music, and other media, and take R. Kelly off their playlists. It will call for us to financially contribute to nonprofits and institutions, such as Burke’s #MeToo movement, that are more equipped to help ladies survivors in ways that are outdoor of our scope. We must adapt to a lifestyle that works to end misogynoir in pop culture and society at large — which calls for us to divest from systems working to further such abuse. We must support Black girls around us with full conviction and accountability.


Black females and females are still surviving R. Kelly. Right now it’s time for gentlemen to step up and support them.


It’s on all of us to stand up against sexual assault. Find out more at metoo.Mtv.Com.


Ernest Owens is an award-winning journalist and CEO of Ernest Media Empire, LLC. His work has been featured on CNN, BET, USA Today, NBC, NPR, and Philadelphia magazine.