Why My Childhood Dies With Bill Cosby’s Legacy

Ezinne Ukoha
7 min readMay 3, 2018

Former icon and disgraced comedian Bill Cosby was recently found guilty on “all three counts of aggravated indecent assault,” and his faithful and devoted wife Camille Cosby released a statement in defense of her badly battered husband — by condemning the system that she believes has a vendetta against her family.

“Once again, an innocent person has been found guilty based on an unthinking
unquestioning, unconstitutional frenzy propagated by the media and allowed to play out in a supposed court of law.” “This is mob justice, not real justice.This tragedy must be undone not just for Bill Cosby, but for the country.”

There’s no need to get into the specifics of what toppled the man who wasn’t only a revered scholar — but also so many delightful things rolled into one, including “America’s Dad” — the caption he rightfully earned from the years spent portraying the lovable, knowledgeable and charismatic obstetrician, Dr. Heathcliff (Cliff) Huxtable, the son of a well-renowned jazz musician.

Cliff is married to Clair, the gorgeous, ambitious and graceful matriarch and lawyer, and they have five adorable children (Sandra, Denise, Theo, Vanessa and Rudy). The family unit was based in Brooklyn Heights, a fact that I stumbled upon when I did research during the early phase of Cosby’s scandal.

I spent my childhood in the thrilling metropolis of Lagos, Nigeria, and that period was energetically tumultous due to the gangster regimes, staged by the antics of the Nigerian army, that utilized the weaponry of numerous coups to seize and relinquish power.

The eighties shaped me into a freakish fan of the culture that birthed a decade filled with pompous exaggeration that overwhelmed every outlet that could manage that level of flexibility.

When adults weep at the betrayal of their idols, I can’t help but wonder if the feelings are somewhat misplaced. It’s one thing to have your safety net vandalized when you’re young and impressionable, but as we mature, surely we get to experience the full effect of realizing that life is way more complicated than the ideal of blissfully dumping Oreo cookies in a glass of cold milk.

I survived the era of big hair and neon “everything” with the companionship of crying and…

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