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Why Female Journalists Shouldn't Have to Clean Up the Messes of Their Male Co-Workers


On Monday morning, Norah O’Donnell, co-anchor of CBS This Morning opened the show with serious news: Les Moonves, her boss and the longtime head of CBS, had resigned the night before after a second New Yorker story broke with new allegations of sexual assault and harassment from six women. That’s in addition to the six women who raised sexual misconduct allegations against Moonves in Ronan Farrow’s first New Yorker story, which was published in July.

That means, for the second time in less than a year, O’Donnell was tasked with reporting on sexual misconduct allegations involving men at her own network (the first instance was her reporting of Charlie Rose’s suspension from CBS after eight women accused him of sexual harassment). The same goes for O’Donnell’s female colleague, Jericka Duncan. After opening Monday morning’s segment, O’Donnell kicked to Duncan, who was covering the fallout of the New Yorker pieces.

After Duncan’s report, O’Donnell said: “This is really hard. It is. This is hard for everybody at CBS News. The most powerful media executive in America has now resigned in the wake of this #MeToo movement, and he’s my boss. Or, he was my boss, and so that makes it really hard to comment on it.” A visibly upset O’Donnell went on to note that “there is no excuse for this alleged behavior” and “women cannot achieve equality in the workplace or society until there is a reckoning and a taking of responsibility.”

Norah O’Donnell reports the demise of her boss, Les Moonves, on CBS This Morning.

At the end of the segment, a bumbling John Dickerson (O’Donnell’s co-host) offered that he was “really proud” to hear her say that and he “couldn’t agree more” with what she said. For his part, Vladimir Duthiers (the other male co-host) had no comment except to note that Duncan would continue to report on these developments.

And that she did. Two days later, Duncan revealed that she had become the subject of her own reporting: On Sunday night, she received threatening text messages from 60 Minutes executive producer Jeff Fager after she did her job as a journalist and asked for comment on the most recent allegations about him in the New Yorker.

Why are professional women forced into the maternal role of emotional soother—the one who says: There, there, sweetie. Everything will be OK. Since when is that part of the job description of being a female journalist?

In a series of angry texts, Fager responded that she would be “held responsible” for harming him if she repeated the allegations without her own reporting on the subject. He went on to say: “Be careful. There are people who lost their jobs trying to harm me, and if you pass on these damaging claims without your own reporting to back them up, that will become a serious problem.”

That’s right, an executive threatened a colleague for trying to do her job, which is investigative reporting. On top of that, Duncan was then charged with reporting on the firing of Moonves the next morning, right after being threatened by another powerful male executive at her own company.

CBS correspondent Jericka Duncan becomes the subject of her own reporting.

Here’s my question: Why, out of all the reporters at CBS, were Duncan and O’Donnell the ones tasked with reporting the bad behavior of their male co-workers? Why weren’t co-hosts Dickerson and Duthiers assigned this particular report? In other words, why wasn’t a man given this responsibility? Why, when it comes to sexual assault and harassment allegations, are women the ones tasked with not only telling their male co-workers’ stories but also doing the emotional labor of making everyone feel fine about it?

This week’s news at CBS reminded me of a teary-eyed Savannah Guthrie reading Matt Lauer’s statement of apology on-air last year (the second day in a row that her job entailed discussing her former colleague’s alleged behavior) and Mika Brzezinski reporting the suspension of MSNBC contributor Mark Halperin and reading his statement.

Savannah Guthrie and Hoda Kotb report on Matt Lauer’s firing. Where are Al Roker and Willie Geist?

It is disturbing to me that women are always the ones charged with cleaning up the messes of their male co-workers and contextualizing it for betrayed viewers who networks fear they’ll lose—because God forbid the networks hemorrhage even more money over these scandals while potentially having to give huge payouts to the men in question.

Men screw up. Women fix it. It’s an all too familiar narrative—and I’m tired of it.

Why must women, who are still paid less than their male counterparts, be the ones to put on a sad face and express the appropriate shock and sympathy so that viewers at home feel comforted? Why are professional women forced into the maternal role of emotional soother—the one who says: There, there, sweetie. Everything will be OK. Since when is that part of the job description of being a female journalist?

Mika Brzezinski reports on the suspension of MSNBC contributor Mark Halperin.

The women in these situations keep their jobs and remain on clean-up duty while their disgraced male colleagues try to collect huge payouts and hide in their million dollar mansions to do some “soul-searching” while they wait for the dust to settle. Matt Lauer’s attorneys allegedly tried to get him $30 million (NBC didn’t pay) and Moonves could potentially receive $120 million pending an investigation. CBS agreed to allocate $20 million of Moonves’ $140 million payout for #MeToo causes.

That’s not enough.

Time’s Up has called for the board of CBS to give the money to organizations that address sexual harassment and workplace safety. In a letter to the CBS board, the organization said: “That is $120 million dollars that will either go to Mr. Moonves or back into the coffers of the company that allowed the culture created by Mr. Moonves to continue. Or that $120 million can create change by going to organizations – and there are many impactful organizations – that can help women of all kinds. The choice is yours. But the answer is obvious. We ask that you not dishonor the bravery of those who have come forward by spending that money unwisely.”

Time’s Up also called on the board to “review and remake not only the structure, but the culture, of CBS and take ongoing responsibility for issues of safety and equity” in the company. “You can cling to a status quo as it crumbles around you,” it said. “Or you can demonstrate what happens when true leadership embraces the future.”

Because the truth is, what the #MeToo movement has revealed is a systemic problem. It’s not one that can be solved by calling out a few (or even several dozen individuals. Until we have more female leadership and a culture that rewards integrity and transparency—instead of power and money—the problem will only persist.

The next time a male executive screws up, maybe put them on the air to make their own announcements about their bad behavior and subsequent firings. Don’t ask a woman to do it. We’ve done enough already.

Abigail Libers lives in Brooklyn and has written for New York and O: The Oprah Magazine.





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'This Is Us' Season 2 Episode 6 Recap: The Pearson Three Are the Same Hot Messes in Their 20s


Tonight’s This Is Us showed the Pearson Three in a brand-new decade, but spoiler alert: They’re still the same hot messes. Just younger! And with less facial hair! Here’s what happened…

First, we start off with the three in their younger years: Halloween is approaching, and Rebecca is busy making costumes for her ungrateful kids. Well, except Randall. Randall’s not ungrateful. Kate, on other hand, straight-up says she doesn’t want to be a veterinarian after Rebecca spent God knows how long making the costume. She now wants to go as Sandy from Grease, and Jack volunteers Rebecca to make her costume at the last minute.

Naturally, Rebecca’s pissed about this and tells Jack he has to stop saying yes to everything Kate wants. Jack retorts by saying Rebecca is just as easy on Randall. They go back and forth for a few more annoying seconds before Rebecca says Jack is setting Kate up to be miserable in her 20s—which leads us to…

The Pearson kids! In their 20s! Well, their late 20s, which are far less reckless and irresponsible than your early 20s. It’s October 2008, which puts the Pearson Three at 28, if my my math is correct.

20s Kate

Kate has instantly-iconic bangs and is working as a waitress in a restaurant. She’s insanely thirsty for a bearded, plaid-clad patron with a nice smile. Kate asks him if he’s trick-or-treating tonight, which is weird because he’s a grown-ass man. He says he’s going to a bar with friends for Halloween; she has class, so she can’t join him. It’s clear he wants her to, though—or so it seems.

As luck would have it, Kate’s class is canceled that night, so she decides to surprise Plaid Guy at the bar. But things turn awkward: He jumps up from his table immediately and runs over to her before she can meet his friends. He says he’s “just about to leave” the bar and asks if they can go some place more quiet. She agrees, but not before noticing Plaid Guy’s friends smirking in her direction. Oh no.

They go back to Kate’s place, have sex, and Plaid Guy quickly gets out of bed and says he has to leave. It turns out he’s married, which is why he panicked when she came to the bar. Kate says she knew this and slept with him hoping things would “feel right” afterwards. But they didn’t. Plaid Guy sucks and should never return.

20s Randall

Beth is pregnant, and her due date is the next day. Randall has no facial hair and is pissed about a ceiling fan in his nursery not working (in other words, the same but less hair). It seems like Randall had one of his panic attacks a few months ago, because he keeps saying how he doesn’t want Beth to worry about him. But that’s a little hard not to do when he’s having a full-blown conniption over an effing fan.

Rebecca comes to town for Beth’s delivery. She expresses concern that Randall might have another panic attack, which he overhears. It’s sad, sure, but I can’t stop looking at Rebecca’ middle-part wig.

They have a long chat about Randall’s episode from two months before. Rebecca then awkwardly pivots and asks Beth to help her set up a Facebook account because, remember, Facebook was the thing in 2008.

Randall opens up to a random store clerk about the mental breakdown he had. The root of his anxiety is the fact Beth has a baby on the way; he’s completely petrified about being a father, and the store clerk offers some warm but generic advice about how babies have all the answers. It’s sweet—not counting the fact Randall made a racially insensitive remark about the store clerk’s turban. (What the hell was that?)

Surprise, surprise: Beth goes into labor literally right after this. An ambulance can’t get to the house in time, so Randall, after assuring Beth he won’t have another panic attack, delivers the baby on their living room floor. Rebecca says it’s one of the happiest moments of her life, but it’s also somewhat sad because Jack isn’t there. Insert obligatory Randall-and-Beth feels.

Rebecca uploads a photo of Beth and Randall’s newborn to her Facebook account and almost immediately receives a message from Miguel. Yes, that Miguel—the Miguel Rebecca eventually marries. Now we know how their whirlwind romance began: He slid into her DMs.

20s Kevin

Kevin’s washing hair at a salon and permanently “waiting for pilot season to start.” His roommate just booked a Kevin Spacey movie—which is a problematic thing to be excited about, given recent events—and invites our Kevin to a private party with the director and cast. Kevin’s clearly jealous and upset but agrees to go anyway.

I’m immediately over this party. It’s full of pretentious Hollywood cardboard cut-outs drinking and cackling at nothing. Kevin’s roommate introduces him to the director of the Spacey film, who gives him a terse, snub-ish hello and moves on. Rude. Doesn’t he know he’s talking to the future Manny?!

Actually, wait, Kevin’s the one who’s rude here. He backs the Spacey director into a corner and implies he’s a better fit for the role his roommate snagged. He says the character is written as an “all-American handsome” guy and that his roommate is a “character” actor (read: ugly). What a snake! I hate Kevin in every decade! The director walks away and says he’ll never hire Kevin for a project after this encounter. Thank God! Relegate his (fine) behind to The Manny!

Kevin and Kate have an emotional heart to heart after Beth gives birth where they essentially admit to failing their 20s. It’s endearing and relatable and one of the best scenes between Chrissy Metz and Justin Hartley in This Is Us history. It ends with Kate moving to Los Angeles to live with Kevin.

This episode wasn’t just during the kids’ 20s, though. Here’s what happened during the super flashbacks:

The ’90s:

Rebecca and Jack are going as Sonny and Cher for Halloween, which is the second Kardashian parallel to happen on this show. (Kim Kardashian and Jonathan Cheban went as Sonny and Cher this year, too. How the hell does Kris Jenner do this shit?)

Randall’s dressed as Michael Jackson, Kate’s Sandy from Grease, and Kevin’s a random dude with five o’clock shadow. Randall, the genius he is, made a map outlining the best houses to hit for trick-or-treating, which Kate and Kevin (of course) don’t appreciate. They don’t want to use Randall’s map, so Jack takes them trick-or-treating separately while Rebecca takes Randall alone. Jack scolds Rebecca for giving into Randall’s “rigid” demands, but she contends he’s just anxious. This is obviously foreshadowing for Randall’s type-A panic attacks.

Child Kate has a crush on a boy named Billy Palmer, and she wants to ask him to go through the neighborhood haunted house with her. Kevin, as per usual, is a grade-A asshole about this and says Billy is “just as popular” as he is and that there’s “no way” he’ll hold Kate’s hand. He’s so terrible; let’s vote him off the island. Fast-forward a few hours later: Billy does hold Kate’s hand in the haunted house, but only because Kevin gave him all his Halloween candy to do it. Kate doesn’t know this. Damn, I’m crying.

Rebecca tries to get Randall to divert from his map for five seconds, and he has a full meltdown about it. This leads to them having an uncomfortably emotional conversation about why Randall was adopted in the first place. I hate that Randall has to deal with the most trauma despite being the best child. His life should be all candy and rainbows and trick-or-treating maps, but nope: This show makes him sad all the time.

Parting thoughts: I hope Kevin’s roommate is now a huge movie star and hate-watches old episodes of The Manny.

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