After 13 years working in TV, I know this doesn’t end with Russell Brand

Broadcaster, director and co-host of the 'Brown Girls Do It Too' podcast On Thursday afternoon, squeals erupted from different corners of the office. Everyone had received the same breaking news notification: “Russell Brand convicted of rape and three counts of sexual assault.” I checked my phone, saw The i Paper’s notification and squealed myself. It was collective relief: a man who had enjoyed decades of adoration had finally been held accountable for his sexual violence. Isn’t it extraordinary how low the bar is? When so few rapes result in a conviction, justice for women can feel like winning the lottery. Remember when Brand was everywhere? Big Brother’s Big Mouth, BBC Radio 2, Hollywood films, sell-out stand-up tours. We fell for his charm, even if we found him annoying. His reputation as a womaniser was practically his brand. The sexual exploits, self-confessed sex addiction, famous girlfriends. Skinny jeans, eyeliner, indie-rock-star swagger. The lovable rogue who could apparently get away with anything – and he did. Then came the reinventions. Drug addict to recovery guru. Political revolutionary to interviewing Ed Miliband before the 2015 election. Womaniser to devoted husband. Most recently his rebrand into Christianity, another chapter, another opportunity for a redemption arc. We’ve confused charisma with character for years, but Brand’s outrageous sexual persona wasn’t simply tolerated. It made him marketable. Audiences overlooked it while the entertainment industry turned his image into a lucrative business. What happens when the behaviour that ought to make us question a celebrity becomes the thing that makes them commercially valuable? I’ve worked in television for 13 years, behind and in front of the camera, experiencing two versions of the industry. When I’m talent, I’m looked after beautifully. Cars are arranged. There’s food in my dressing room. Everyone makes sure I’m comfortable. When I’m in production, I’m often doing considerably MUCH more work, with far less fuss made over my wellbeing. I’m not complaining. I’m showing how dramatically your status changes the way people treat you. And when an industry revolves around keeping its talent happy, what happens when that talent behaves spectacularly badly? Even as an outspoken 41-year-old freelancer, challenging authority is difficult. Every production feels like starting again: proving yourself, building relationships, wondering whether speaking up for yourself or a colleague could jeopardise your next job. Imagine being a 23-year-old researcher whose career is only beginning. How can they stand up to men like Brand? Brand didn’t become famous in isolation. Entertainment executives elevated him and rewarded his outrageousness. Meanwhile, four women were subjected to crimes for which he has now been convicted. Those women endured the scrutiny of a criminal trial. Their courage deserves more attention than another examination of his fall from grace. Back in the office, those squeals sounded like celebration. In a way, they were. Not because a celebrity had fallen, but because women had finally been heard. We shouldn’t need criminal convictions before questioning cultures that allow powerful men to behave with impunity. The question isn’t just how men like Brand get away with it for so long. It’s how many people look the other way while they’re making money. Until we stop treating powerful men as assets to protect, even when they behave abhorrently we’ll keep building pedestals we eventually have to tear down. But not before countless women pay the price. As we always do.