The Horrible Abuse Allegations Against Diddy Reveal the Legacy—and Limits—of #MeToo (2024)

Seven years after the #MeToo movement swept the United States and then much of the globe, some of the movement’s biggest villains—Harvey Weinstein, Bill Cosby—have seen their criminal convictions overturned. Others have been slowly making their way back into the public realm. Still others have weathered even very serious accusations by denying claims and settling out of court. For a while, it seemed like the rapper and music mogul Diddy was in that last camp: He was accused of rape, sexual assault, domestic violence, and a series of other crimes but denied all of the accusations. He also settled with one accuser, the singer Cassie Ventura (who goes by Cassie and is an ex-girlfriend of Diddy’s), and had her agree to silence in exchange for a settlement payment.

But then, this month, a video of Diddy attacking Cassie in a hotel in 2016 was published by CNN. Diddy apologized—an abrupt change of heart after vociferous denials that he had ever hurt women, plus payoffs and a defense that those accusing him were essentially greed-driven gold diggers and opportunistic liars. He said he is disgusted by his own behavior and is getting help. This week, Rolling Stone published a damning investigation that reveals Diddy’s patterns of abuse, which stretch back decades. What will come of it remains unclear.

The #MeToo movement never promised to solve the problems of sexual violence and harassment, nor the problem of powerful men getting away with everything from sexist exploitation to serious crimes against women. It was merely a space—an opening in time—inwhich women could speak up. And the chorus of voices that poured forth was so deafening that it was impossible to deny that a problem at least existed. There was a cultural shift, then an inevitable backlash. There were court cases and victories, and now, years later, some walk-backs. There have been civil suits and settlements, denials paired with payouts. The fantasy that every bad man would get his due, with the violent ones in jail and the manipulative ones made personae non grata, has not played out.

But if we conceive of justice as women getting at least some hearing of their claims (however imperfect those hearings may be) and some restitution for their suffering (with however many strings attached), then a slightly more optimistic picture emerges. #MeToo didn’t solve the problems it identified. But it may have opened up a few more paths to justice—or least more clarity on what the options for justice entail. There are more people willing to take women’s claims seriously, and more pressure on men who have committed serious wrongdoing to pay some sort of price.

Diddy is facing criminal investigation: His compound was raided by Department of Homeland Security officials earlier this year, although he has not been arrested. There is still some chance that the many women and one man who have accused him of abuse will see their day in criminal court.

Several of them, though, are already seeking their day in civil court. Many are doing so under New York’s Adult Survivors Act, which opened up a time-limited window for survivors of sexual violence to sue the individuals and institutions they say assaulted them or helped cover it up, no matter when the assaults happened. That window has now closed, but thousands of suits were filed before the deadline, including by Cassie. Diddy may still settle with some of those who have alleged mistreatment, as he did with Cassie. Or he may choose to continue to fight them in court.

Civil court is not a perfect remedy for violent acts, which should be treated like serious crimes. Feminists have long argued that treating domestic violence and violence against women as secondary interpersonal problems or private matters is profoundly unjust. Violently attacking someone should land you in jail—whether or not that person is a stranger on the street or your girlfriend.

But reality is more complicated. Going through with a criminal trial is, for many victims of rape or assault, devastating, painful, and even traumatic. The conviction standard of “guilty beyond a reasonable doubt” is necessarily high, but it’s also difficult to meet when there is not significant physical evidence, and in sexual assault and domestic abuse cases, physical evidence is often limited. (Usually, these cases involve two people who know each other and a terrified or embarrassed victim who may not seek out medical care immediately.) Good old-fashioned sexism can also play a big role, as jurors may give accused abusers the benefit of the doubt, buy into misogynist myths about rape and abuse, or hold women claiming abuse to a higher standard than they would if, say, a man were testifying about a violent assault. Criminal cases often involve invasive investigations and cross-examinations that survivors of violence may find intimidating or intolerable.

And that’s if an accuser even gets into a courtroom. Police officers are not exactly all Olivia Bensons when it comes to treating survivors with sensitivity and dignity. Prosecutors may be overworked and have conviction rates to maintain; believing (accurately or not) that sexual assault cases are difficult to win, they still decline to prosecute a great many. Accusers may find themselves under a microscope, seemingly disbelieved if they were drinking, or knew their attacker, or froze instead of fighting back. And rape conviction rates remain astoundingly low.

Bringing a case in civil court is not a walk in the park either, but the standard for determining responsibility is not as sky-high. A plaintiff does not have to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that she was assaulted, and while a defendant won’t go to prison for his bad acts, he may have to pay up handsomely or see a reputational hit as the evidence against him comes out—all of which is no small matter, even for men who are wealthy and powerful. And civil cases come with the option to settle for some financial agreement out of court. This can certainly be a tool for powerful men to do exactly what Diddy did: To lie about their own violent acts, and pay women for their silence. But it can also be a way for those who have been victimized to see some recognition of the wrong that was done to them, without putting themselves so fully under the prying eyes of a courtroom—or in the cases of women accusing prominent men, in front of the media and the public.

That may not suit the broader public’s vision of justice or the grander goals of the justice system, which involve not just recompense to a victim but the paying of a debt to society more broadly. But in a system that seldom manages to achieve those lofty aims, it’s hard to fault women (and some men) who decide to maximize potential compensation and minimize the potential for their own public vivisection.

In the years since #MeToo accusations shook Hollywood, media, and other industries across the country, no clear picture of post–MeToo justice has emerged. Significant roadblocks remain for survivors seeking justice in criminal court. Convictions for sexual and domestic violence remain low. But something does seem to have shifted. More victims are reporting sex crimes to authorities. Sexual harassment is being more seriously penalized in the civil system. States including New York have opened up opportunities for survivors to come forward and potentially get at least a little bit of justice, even if just in the financial realm.

None of this is the stuff of feminist dreams.

But as a stepping stone, it’s not a bad one. Survivors of sexual and other forms of gender-based violence and harassment may now be more willing to come forward, may better understand their options when they do, and may find themselves working within systems that are at least a tiny bit more amenable to their claims. It’s hard to look at Cassie’s lawsuit, Diddy’s denials, their settlement, and the emergence of incontrovertible video evidence as an ideal example of post–MeToo legal justice. But without the #MeToo movement, there would have been no lawsuit in the first place, and perhaps nothing resembling justice at all.