Smithsonian Doesn't Want Their Art Associated With Bill Cosby Either

The downfall of alleged serial rapist Bill Cosby continues: On Tuesday, the Smithsonian’s National Museum of African Art, which displays Cosby’s art collection, announced it will swap a sign crediting the comedian with another promoting the artists instead.

Linda St. Thomas, a Smithsonian spokeswoman, says the sign will go up on Wednesday and will make it clear that that museum doesn’t “condone Cosby’s behavior,” according to the Associated Press. This announcement comes on the heels of The View host Whoopi Goldberg’s conversation with ABC’s legal analyst, who explained the Cosby rape allegations to her as if she was literally born yesterday. She finally said it sounds like Cosby is guilty, while the Internet rolled its eyes.

Elsewhere, Joseph C. Phillips, the actor who played Denise’s husband Martin on The Cosby Show, published a blog post entitled “Of Course Bill Cosby Is Guilty,” explaining that the cast knew that Cosby cheated on his wife Camille—and there was a “parade” of attractive women always coming to see the comedian on set. He also wrote that he was unsure about the allegations until he spoke to an old friend who’d been victimized by Cosby.

I was particularly shaken the afternoon I bumped into an old friend while shopping. The controversy was at its height. The story of Bill was all over the press. I hadn’t seen this woman for many years. Back in the day, I had asked her out on a few dates, but was relegated to the friend zone so fast it made my ears wiggle. We had kept in touch for a few years, but our lives had taken different paths. Over the years, I had watched with a passive interest as her career grew, so I was excited to see her and catch up a bit.

As we spoke, I recalled that Bill had been her mentor (play father, teacher…something. I couldn’t quite recall what it was). The question popped into my head.

“Hey, do you mind if I ask you something?”

She looked at me and then asked, “Is it going to make me cry?”

I was a bit taken aback. “Well,” I stammered. “I hope it doesn’t make you cry.”

She smiled. “Go ahead and ask your question.”

“Back in the day,” I started. “I remember that you knew Bill – that he was like your mentor or something. Did he ever…”

Before I finished the sentence, she began to cry.

We spent the next two hours sitting on a bench talking. Through tears, she told me her story. She cursed him for violating both her trust and her body. She cursed herself for not being smarter, and for degrading herself in pursuit of success. I listened patiently. As she began to run out of steam, she turned to me. “Do you believe me?”

“Yes.” I said. “I believe you.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Because I don’t believe that you are crazy and only a crazy person would sit with me all this time and share a fantasy.”