As the Oscars approach, controversy surrounds Karla Gascón, the first openly trans actress to be nominated for an Oscar, but whose past hate-filled social media posts have sparked heated debates. The discussion isn’t just about Gascón – it’s about a larger question: What does accountability look like when the person in question has caused harm but also broken barriers? How do we navigate recognition alongside responsibility?
This debate mirrors a broader cultural struggle: It’s easy to cancel a celebrity, but not so easy to cancel a problematic or even abusive loved one. Certainly not if you want (or have) to keep them in your life. Many of my conversations over the past few months have circled back to one central question: Can we separate the art from the artist? Can we love the art while condemning the artist? These questions, while often leading to deep reflection, are flawed in their construction. They leave us with a binary choice: yes or no. But accountability isn’t binary, it’s a process.
Right now, public discourse often equates accountability with punishment. But exile alone does not address the root causes of harm, nor does it create a path forward for transformation. It is this very thinking that keeps us trapped in a similarly punitive legal system. True accountability requires more than just removal, it demands intervention, education, and systemic change.
Nowhere is this complexity more evident than in cases of domestic violence. Survivors often face a difficult reality: while they may seek safety and justice, they may not want their partner permanently cast aside. They may recognize that the person who harmed them is also shaped by generational trauma, societal conditioning, and systemic failures. Yet our culture leaves little room for this nuance. The current model prioritizes punishment over repair, exile over transformation. If we truly want accountability, we have to expand our understanding beyond just consequences, we need models for change.
One example comes from restorative justice practices, which seek to address harm through dialogue and transformation rather than punishment alone. In Oakland, organizations like Impact Justice facilitate survivor-centered restorative justice processes for various crimes. These programs bring those who have caused harm into direct engagement with the people they’ve hurt, focusing on responsibility, repair, and long-term change. Studies have shown that restorative justice not only leads to lower rates of repeat offenses but also fosters genuine healing, something punitive approaches often fail to achieve.
To be sure, we should never excuse egregious behavior. Cancel culture has been instrumental in bringing to light horrific abuses and demanding public accountability. But removal alone is not enough. What happens after someone is canceled? If a public figure loses their platform, what else must change in the systems that enabled them? Public discourse rarely outlines what meaningful accountability should look like.
It’s time we expand the conversation. What makes figures like Harvey Weinstein, Woody Allen, or powerful executives behave the way they do? What cultural norms, economic incentives, and social structures have enabled their harmful actions? We don’t have to erase their contributions to acknowledge their harm. But we do need accountability that goes beyond individual punishment and addresses the systems that allowed harm to persist in the first place.
So what does that look like? How do we hold individuals and institutions accountable while also recognizing their positive contributions? And how do we move toward collective healing? We already have models – restorative justice, truth and reconciliation efforts, community-based accountability processes. But these approaches require something our culture often resists: uncomfortable conversations, radical self-awareness, and a willingness to examine our own complicity in upholding harmful systems.
Because here’s the truth: It’s not just about them. It’s about us. The same systems that protect harmful figures also shape our workplaces, our relationships, and our daily interactions. When we demand accountability, are we also looking at the ways we perpetuate harm in our own lives? Are we willing to extend to others the same grace we hope to receive when we make mistakes?
Public shaming alone won’t create the world we want. But accountability that leads to real change – starting locally, in our homes, our workplaces, and our communities – just might. That is where the real work begins.
