Why Do We Keep Supporting Abusers in the Music Industry?
Why Do We Keep Supporting Abusers in the Music Industry? Chris Brown's Enduring Legacy
By: Isabelle Young
“Sometimes you just have to walk away.” These are the words Rihanna bravely told Vanity Fair after she was violently assaulted by Chris Brown, her partner at the time, in 2009. Sixteen years on from photos of her bruised face circulating worldwide, society still refuses to follow her advice. Instead, Chris Brown has continued to rise to global stardom.
Why is it that, despite the visual evidence and Brown’s guilty plea, he continues to thrive, set to embark on a world tour this summer attended by hundreds of thousands? How is it that Rihanna – consistently hailed as one of the 21st century’s most influential musicians – could not successfully blacklist the man who left her bloodied in the backseat of a car?
If Rihanna, armed with immense
wealth, global influence and undeniable truth, cannot secure his exile from the
very industry she helped define, what hope do ordinary women have? When the
world so readily forgives a so‑called “bad boy,” how much has feminism really
shifted the music industry since that 2009 assault?
The 2009 Assault and Its Aftermath
In February 2009, the night before the Grammy Awards, Chris Brown assaulted then‑girlfriend Rihanna following a heated argument. The altercation left her with visible facial injuries, forcing her to cancel her red‑carpet appearance.
Police charged Brown with felony assault; he pleaded guilty and received community service, domestic‑violence counselling and five years’ probation.
But rather than ending his career, the scandal served as a dark publicity boost. Brown issued a public apology and returned to the studio.
By 2011 his album F.A.M.E. won
a Grammy, signalling to
labels and fans alike that his talent outweighed his transgressions. Even on
his official Grammy page, his own words capture the industry’s eagerness to
move on:
“No one can live in the past and
expect to grow. I have been moving forward and hope that I am not defined by
just a few moments in my life but all of the moments that will make up my
life.”
Subsequent albums – X
(2014), Royalty (2015) and Indigo (2019), all reached the top
ten, further cementing his commercial appeal.
The Industry’s Eagerness to Move On
Alongside chart success, Brown faced
further legal incidents:
A 2013 assault charge in Washington D.C., a 2016 standoff at his home, and multiple civil suits alleging abuse.
Yet each time he offered a perfunctory apology or quick settlement, and mainstream outlets rarely followed up. By the time he launched the 2023 Under the Influence tour he sold out in its entire 19‑show UK and European leg within minutes.
It was clear neither the courts nor
public opinion had truly derailed his career.
A Broader Cultural Pattern
Chris Brown’s continued success is not an isolated phenomenon but part of a broader cultural pattern that excuses male violence when fame and profit are at stake.
In the entertainment industry, power,
money and celebrity status form a protective shield around those accused of
wrongdoing. The public and media often display a troubling willingness to
forgive or forget, especially if the accused remains commercially viable.
This tendency stems from a societal fascination with “bad boys,” men who flout rules and exude danger.
Such figures are marketed as charismatic, edgy and rebellious, qualities that drive record sales and social‑media engagement. Consequently, labels and promoters reward them rather than hold them to account.
It’s not like Brown’s history of violence is some
well‑kept industry secret, either. A quick scroll on TikTok or X (formerly
Twitter) and you’ll find hundreds, if not thousands, of videos with users,
mostly young women, saying things like “I’d let Chris Brown beat me.”
Even more disturbingly, you’ll find men claiming
that “if I were a woman, I’d let him hit me.”
How did we get here? How did the man once charged with felony assault become a pop culture punchline instead of a cautionary tale?
The enduring popularity of abusers
signals that our collective values still prioritise entertainment and profit
over safety and justice. Unless this dynamic is confronted, the cycle of
excusing male violence in music will remain unbroken.
“Boys Will Be Boys” and Toxic Masculinity
In Boys Will Be Boys,
Clementine Ford examines how toxic masculinity is not merely individual
misbehaviour but a systemic issue that celebrates male dominance and
aggression.
From the moment boys are socialised, they receive messages that equate manhood with power, control and emotional stoicism. These lessons manifest in adulthood as a belief that men’s entitlement and anger are natural and acceptable.
Ford argues that this fragile masculinity is protected by cultural institutions – including media and the music industry – that normalise, even glorify, violence and misogyny. The “bad boy” archetype becomes a trophy, signalling authenticity and raw talent.
Chris Brown’s public image aligns perfectly with this model. His apologies are brief and often overshadowed by his chart‑topping singles. Rather than being a cautionary tale, he is treated as a comeback success story.
In this context, the phrase “boys
will be boys” acts as a licence for male artists to escape real consequences,
reinforcing the very behaviours that feminism seeks to dismantle.
Rappers and the “Bad Boy” Archetype
Mainstream hip‑hop has long
celebrated hyper‑masculine ideals such as unfiltered authenticity.
Rappers who adopt a “tough” persona gain commercial success, and controversy only amplifies their mystique.
The rap community also frequently rallies behind its own. High‑profile endorsements from peers on social media to on‑stage appearances signal collective protection.
This solidarity shields artists from genuine accountability, as the industry treats controversy as a marketing tool.
Take Kanye West: despite public meltdowns, controversial outbursts and posting a literal swastika on his Instagram, he remains one of the industry’s most influential figures. His erratic behaviour is routinely reframed as artistic genius or free‑speech.
Brown’s own forays into rap‑inflected tracks and high‑profile collaborations show how seamlessly abusers can integrate into the hip‑hop mainstream.
Even Eminem, an artist famously
critical of the industry’s hypocrisy, isn’t immune. In a leaked 2011 verse from
B.o.B.’s “Things Get Worse,” he raps:
“Let me give my two cents, of course
I support Chris Brown
I’d beat a bitch down too if she gave
my dick an itch now.”
Though cut from the final release, the verse reveals how even the “good guys” normalise violence.
Until culture shifts to value
integrity over infamy, rappers will continue to exemplify the toxic archetype
that privileges fame above decency.
Though Rihanna has emerged stronger than ever as an entrepreneur, philanthropist and mother, Chris Brown also prepares to launch his own Breezy Bowl XX World Tour, undeterred by his history of violence.
The continued commercial triumph of an admitted abuser, set against the enduring burden on a survivor, exposes the music industry’s moral failure.
We must confront this uncomfortable reality. Talent and profitability cannot excuse brutality. Fans, labels and media outlets must hold artists to account, refusing to support those who harm others.
True progress requires dismantling the culture of toxic masculinity underpinning the “bad boy” myth and perpetuating injustice.
The last decade and the #MeToo
movement have shed light on countless cases, but we must now demand systemic
change within entertainment.
It is only by insisting on higher
standards can we ensure the industry no longer shields abusers at the expense
of survivors. Until then, our playlists and concert arenas remain complicit in
condoning violence for the sake of a good verse. The question now is whether
we, as consumers, will choose to stop turning a blind eye.