Derek Fisher
Derek Fisher
Breezy Bowl: On Violence, “Cancel Culture” and Complacency
Breezy Bowl: On Violence, “Cancel Culture” and Complacency
Earlier this year, Chris Brown embarked on his “Breezy Bowl XX” Tour, a celebration marking 20 years since his debut album’s release. It has been his highest-grossing tour ever, and there is no denying the sustained success of his career.
However, despite his talent, it is impossible for me to separate the art from the artist when I consider his lengthy history of violence.
Brown’s track record of abuse began as a 19-year-old in 2009, when he brutally assaulted his then-girlfriend, 20-year-old popstar Rihanna Fenty. Brown pled guilty to felony assault and was sentenced to five years of probation and six months of community service. Those who come to Brown’s defense frequently emphasize how long ago the incident was, and also reference Fenty’s forgiveness of Brown, insisting that if the victim has let it go, then the public should too.
Unfortunately, Brown’s violent behavior did not stop there.
In 2017, ex-girlfriend Karreuche Tran was granted a five-year restraining order from Brown. She accused him of punching her in the stomach, throwing her down stairs and repeatedly threatening her, along with her friends. In 2022, a woman sued Brown, alleging that he drugged and raped her aboard a yacht owned by Sean “Diddy” Combs.
His accusations do not only apply to women.
Most recently, in May 2025, Brown was arrested for assaulting a producer in a London nightclub, almost delaying his tour kickoff. These are only a few of Brown’s many incidents, and his money and fame have arguably allowed him to evade long-lasting consequences.
Several TikTok creators have asked concert attendees about their knowledge of and opinions on Brown’s criminal history: in one video, some fans admitted they were unaware, while others were just indifferent.
“Have you not been in a toxic relationship, sorry? Like, it’s life,” one woman said, demonstrating the normalization of domestic violence that still plagues our culture.
Another simply stated that his actions were not done to her, insinuating that because she was not a victim, she did not care. This comment is indicative of larger societal problems: complacency, individualism, and loss of empathy.
“I think he’s paid enough, like for his problems or whatever, and I just go because I like his concert, music, dancing… and he’s pretty cute to look at,” one Black woman said in a different video.
I find this comment particularly alarming, as it highlights how attractiveness and/or talent allow so many abusers to lack accountability.
It disheartens me to see people continuing to support an artist who has caused such tremendous harm. This is unfortunately not a new phenomenon— we saw it years ago when Black women stood outside courtrooms cheering for R. Kelly as he faced child pornography, racketeering and sex trafficking charges. I saw it this past summer, when I stood outside the Sean “Diddy” Combs trial, watching Black women and men congregate while sporting “FREE DIDDY” shirts.
When dealing with controversy of any kind, the Black community struggles to overcome respectability politics, worried about the optics of publicly condemning any Black celebrity and “airing out our dirty laundry.” By dismissing valid criticism of Brown as an attempt to tear down Black men and positioning him as a “victim” of cancel culture, we minimize the seriousness and tangible impacts of domestic violence.
I understand the harsh pressure, criticism and stereotyping that Black men are subjected to, as well as the inclination to protect them in a racist world that allows white men to redeem themselves, but rarely extends Black men the same compassion or grace. Brown himself has experienced hardship and has struggled with bipolar and post-traumatic stress disorder, as well as substance abuse and anger management issues.
While I feel for Brown, I refuse to let any extension of grace come at the expense of the women he has victimized. If defending him comes from a place of care, what does that say about our lack of care for those harmed? Aren’t they also deserving of empathy, care, and protection?
We must also remember the courage it takes for victims to come forward, particularly those of powerful celebrities. Black women in particular who are abused by Black men feel pressured to remain silent and prioritize racial unity, even if it means denying our own value and making our experiences unimportant. What does it say about our community if we are willing to discard our women to protect a serial perpetrator?
It is my hope that our society can move away from an attitude of passivity to one of true accountability, one that provokes us to reflect more deeply about the people we support, as well as the violent and oppressive systems we uphold in the process.
Earlier this year, Chris Brown embarked on his “Breezy Bowl XX” Tour, a celebration marking 20 years since his debut album’s release. It has been his highest-grossing tour ever, and there is no denying the sustained success of his career.
However, despite his talent, it is impossible for me to separate the art from the artist when I consider his lengthy history of violence.
Brown’s track record of abuse began as a 19-year-old in 2009, when he brutally assaulted his then-girlfriend, 20-year-old popstar Rihanna Fenty. Brown pled guilty to felony assault and was sentenced to five years of probation and six months of community service. Those who come to Brown’s defense frequently emphasize how long ago the incident was, and also reference Fenty’s forgiveness of Brown, insisting that if the victim has let it go, then the public should too.
Unfortunately, Brown’s violent behavior did not stop there.
In 2017, ex-girlfriend Karreuche Tran was granted a five-year restraining order from Brown. She accused him of punching her in the stomach, throwing her down stairs and repeatedly threatening her, along with her friends. In 2022, a woman sued Brown, alleging that he drugged and raped her aboard a yacht owned by Sean “Diddy” Combs.
His accusations do not only apply to women.
Most recently, in May 2025, Brown was arrested for assaulting a producer in a London nightclub, almost delaying his tour kickoff. These are only a few of Brown’s many incidents, and his money and fame have arguably allowed him to evade long-lasting consequences.
Several TikTok creators have asked concert attendees about their knowledge of and opinions on Brown’s criminal history: in one video, some fans admitted they were unaware, while others were just indifferent.
“Have you not been in a toxic relationship, sorry? Like, it’s life,” one woman said, demonstrating the normalization of domestic violence that still plagues our culture.
Another simply stated that his actions were not done to her, insinuating that because she was not a victim, she did not care. This comment is indicative of larger societal problems: complacency, individualism, and loss of empathy.
“I think he’s paid enough, like for his problems or whatever, and I just go because I like his concert, music, dancing… and he’s pretty cute to look at,” one Black woman said in a different video.
I find this comment particularly alarming, as it highlights how attractiveness and/or talent allow so many abusers to lack accountability.
It disheartens me to see people continuing to support an artist who has caused such tremendous harm. This is unfortunately not a new phenomenon— we saw it years ago when Black women stood outside courtrooms cheering for R. Kelly as he faced child pornography, racketeering and sex trafficking charges. I saw it this past summer, when I stood outside the Sean “Diddy” Combs trial, watching Black women and men congregate while sporting “FREE DIDDY” shirts.
When dealing with controversy of any kind, the Black community struggles to overcome respectability politics, worried about the optics of publicly condemning any Black celebrity and “airing out our dirty laundry.” By dismissing valid criticism of Brown as an attempt to tear down Black men and positioning him as a “victim” of cancel culture, we minimize the seriousness and tangible impacts of domestic violence.
I understand the harsh pressure, criticism and stereotyping that Black men are subjected to, as well as the inclination to protect them in a racist world that allows white men to redeem themselves, but rarely extends Black men the same compassion or grace. Brown himself has experienced hardship and has struggled with bipolar and post-traumatic stress disorder, as well as substance abuse and anger management issues.
While I feel for Brown, I refuse to let any extension of grace come at the expense of the women he has victimized. If defending him comes from a place of care, what does that say about our lack of care for those harmed? Aren’t they also deserving of empathy, care, and protection?
We must also remember the courage it takes for victims to come forward, particularly those of powerful celebrities. Black women in particular who are abused by Black men feel pressured to remain silent and prioritize racial unity, even if it means denying our own value and making our experiences unimportant. What does it say about our community if we are willing to discard our women to protect a serial perpetrator?
It is my hope that our society can move away from an attitude of passivity to one of true accountability, one that provokes us to reflect more deeply about the people we support, as well as the violent and oppressive systems we uphold in the process.