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here is a question that is asked of all
stand-up comics. And it is asked most frequently
of comics who are being newly discovered by the
press. It is seen as the perfect way to really get
to know the comedian: “Who were your favorite stand-up
comics when you were growing up?”
It’s a simple question. But when the press was first dis-
covering me in the early 2010s, it felt really complicated,
because the stand-up comic I loved the most growing up
was Bill Cosby. He had been a part of my entire life, from
his cartoon Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids in the ’70s to
his stand-up, and of course through The Cosby Show in
the ’80s. For my high school graduation, I wore a “Cosby
sweater” instead of a suit jacket.
But when major media first took interest in me follow-
ing the premiere of my FX show Totally Biased, there were
already stories of women accusing Bill Cosby of sexual as-
sault. They weren’t getting much traction in the press—and
wouldn’t until several years later when the #MeToo move-
ment ignited in full force—but it was enough that I couldn’t
just say his name without reservation. On the other hand,
if I didn’t say that I had loved Bill Cosby, I would be lying.
And I would also look like the one Black kid who grew up
in the ’70s and ’80s who didn’t like Bill Cosby.
So I tried to get clever with it. I would mention other
comics and at the end I’d say, “and the artist formerly
known as Bill Cosby.” It was my way of telling the truth but
also acknowledging that there was something else going on
that I couldn’t ignore. The interviewer always seemed to
get this and move on to other questions. But it left a bigger
question in my mind that has only grown since then: How
do we talk about Bill Cosby? How do we do it in a way that
is honest to our own personal experiences and acknowl-
edges the experiences of others? How do we hold these in-
credibly divergent truths? The gap from “my hero” to “my
rapist” is unfathomable. But we have to try. I try to start to
reckon with all this in the four-part docuseries I directed,
We Need to Talk About Cosby, which premieres at the Sun-
dance Film Festival before coming to Showtime on Jan. 30.
I thInk the fIrst tape I ever rented from a video store
was the stand-up comedy special Bill Cosby: Himself. It
was the early ’80s, I was 10 or 11, and I was already falling
in love with comedy. Before the Internet, the only way you
could watch comedians was to stay up late to watch The
Tonight Show Starring Johnny Carson or Saturday Night Live.
So when video stores opened and I discovered that I could
just rent a tape and watch comedy whenever I wanted to, it
felt like magic. The other tape I rented was Eddie Murphy’s
comedy special Delirious, although because of his R-rated
reputation, I had to get my mom’s permission for that one.
But I didn’t need my mom’s permission to watch Bill
Cosby. She knew that one would be family- friendly. By the
time Himself came out, Bill Cosby had more than 20 years
in the spotlight as a G-rated comedian. And more than just
being a clean comic, Cosby was already known as someone
whose content was not only good to listen to but also good
for you. Even more relevant to Black folks, he was someone
to look up to at times when we needed
heroes the most. Bill Cosby was some-
one who had his hand extended to
pull you up with him. When I watched
him—especially on his shows aimed at
kids like Fat Albert, Picture Pages and
The Electric Company—I saw a Black
man who wanted me to be smart, like
he was. He wanted me to be success-
ful, like he was. He wanted me to be a
good person, like I thought he was.
Throughout his career, Bill Cosby
was the kind of Black entertainer
Black folks were happy to support.
He was successful without “bowing
or scraping” or “shucking and jiv-
ing,” as it was called back then. And
though he was loved and celebrated by
white folks, he didn’t lose himself in
the process. He was beloved by white
America at a time when other Black
folks were getting beaten up by police
every night on the news. In the 1960s,
when Martin Luther King Jr. was ad-
vocating for a world where Black and
white could live together, Cosby was
doing his part to make that a reality by
integrating TV and nightclubs. Martin
Luther King Jr. was being called up-
pity and under constant threat. Cosby
was accepting Emmys and Grammys
by the handful. And what most of usTime Off is reported by Mariah EspadaPREVIOUS SPREAD: THE COSBY SHOW: NBC/EVERETT COLLECTION; COSBY: GILBERT CARRASQUILLO—GETTY IMAGES△
In the 1980s,
Cosby had the
highest Q Score
ever, recognized
and regarded
highly by 70% of
Americans