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Ghomeshi published an essay today. Read this instead.

Triggers: Sexual assault.

Ghomeshi was acquitted in March 2016 of four counts of sexual assault, and now he some feels that the New York Review of Books decided to publish.

I read it. I’m not linking it here.

It’s a well enough written pity party. He was always good on picking up on the pulse of an issue, and he’s done that here. So he’ll get some play I’m sure from the usual band of sympathizers and enablers who think that it’s just so unfair that people turn their eyes and ears away from millionaires who abuse women but were not convicted of criminal abuse of women. Ghomeshi says some of the vaguely right things, and then buries them under layers and layers of the same-old tried absolutely wrong things about how he was such a poor-rich-powerful-insecure-man-he-couldn’t-possibly-have-done-any-better-then-he-did-and-it-wasn’t-so-bad-really-the-overreaction-was-unfair-and-hurt-his-feelings. Also, some people are racists.


I recommend Vice’s take instead. It’s fair and it’s short and it’s more than he deserves.

I work in the community Ghomeshi was a part of. The first time I heard of him, I was still in school. I was interning. A senior publicist was doings some media training for two young artists. She said “He’s mostly harmless, but don’t end up alone with him.” No one gasped. Just nodded.

Three years later I would give the same advice to another young artist. She also nodded, and then we talked about her work.


Four years after that, multiple women went public with the reports of sexual violence that the whisper network had know about for over a decade.

Fuck off, Jian Ghomeshi.

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