In this era of moral reckoning, when many men who were once regarded as heroes are currently considered unforgivably flawed, what can be said of John Lennon? Lennon, who has now been dead for nearly as long as he lived, would have turned 80 on Friday. How does the ex-Beatle hold up as a figure worthy of hero status when seen through the modern prisms of #MeToo, Black Lives Matter and liberal woke culture?
Lennon's critics, of which there has never been any shortage, can point to his many failings as husband, father, son and friend, not to mention his alcohol and drug abuse, anti-social behavior and treatment of women. In the song "Getting Better," Paul McCartney laments, "I used to be cruel to my woman, I beat her and kept her apart from the things that she loved." Sir Paul wasn't singing about himself.
Not long before he died, Lennon admitted he wrote the lyrics. "I used to be cruel to my woman, and physically — any woman. I used to be cruel to my woman … I was a hitter … I fought men, and I hit women. That is why I always go on about peace, you see. It is the most violent people who go for love and peace ... I am a violent man who has learned not to be violent and regrets his violence. I will have to be a lot older before I can face how I treated women as a youngster."
At 25, Lennon wrote "Run For Your Life," with its shocking admission: "I'd rather see you dead little girl than to be with another man," a line he lifted from Arthur Gunter's "Baby, Let's Play House," which was recorded by Elvis Presley. To drive home the point, Lennon added the lyrics, "Let this be a sermon I mean everything I said; baby I'm determined and I'd rather see you dead." Eight years later, Lennon would call "Run For Your Life" his "least favorite Beatles song." What happened?
The year after writing "Run For Your Life," Lennon met Yoko Ono, who would introduce him to feminist sensibilities. Soon afterward, Lennon wrote "All You Need Is Love" for the world's first-ever transatlantic television broadcast, which was followed by the raucous street anthem, "Give Peace A Chance" and then "Power To The People," in which he asked his "comrades and brothers" something many of them had no doubt ever asked themselves: "How do you treat your own woman back home?"
In 1972, all hell broke loose with the release of Lennon and Ono's shocking pro-feminist anthem, the title of which included the most forbidden slur for Black Americans to describe the plight of women. A searing indictment of a diseased and racist patriarchy, the song was widely banned and labeled "racist" and "anti-woman" by the very patriarchy it condemned. Lennon remained defiantly unapologetic.
"I had to find out about myself and my attitudes toward women," he told talk-show host Dick Cavett. Besides, Lennon pointed out, the people most likely to have a negative reaction to the song were white and male. Lennon then read an unflinching statement of support from Ron Dellums, chairman of the Congressional Black Caucus, and told Cavett, "I really believe that women have the worst, whatever it is. However badly or how poor people are, it's the woman who takes it when they get home." And with that, Lennon took the stage and belted out these still chilling lyrics:
We make her paint her face and dance