“What is joke to you is death to me.”

— my late, great Jamaican grandfather

I wouldn’t be surprised if “the slap that was heard around the world” became the subject of the next Red Table Talk: Jada, Will and Chris, sitting around a table, unpacking what happened that warm March evening when Will Smith very ceremoniously knocked the Chris Rock upside the head. For the under-the-rock-dwellers, here’s what I’m talking about for the sake of context:

I think one thing that’s been made clear to me given allll of the opinions I’ve read online is that the way you view this will depend on your social location. Whether you are male, female, queer or non-binary, whether you are Black or White, whether you are an African American or an African, whether you are famous or infamous, whether you are young or old, whether you live with an illness such as an autoimmune disease or not, whether you are a survivor of violence or grew up with it in the home, and all of the intersections thereof, all of that is going to shape the lens through which you view this event.

Many people saying that this was an example of violence and toxic masculinity have a certain social location, whether it be race-based or gender-based or education/profession-based or some combination thereof.

Many people who understand ableism understand the latent ableism in Rock’s jabs by turning Pinkett-Smith’s illness into a punch line and have commented accordingly.

If you are a Black woman, you also have a different social location, and so, understandably, you may have viewed this situation not as or not only as violence on display but as a wife’s honour being defended and someone finally standing up for a Black woman.

As most things in life, this situation is layered and nuanced, hence why everyone has an opinion and hence why there are so many thought pieces on this. In other words, there is no one way to look at this situation.

That said, I think the rightness or wrongness of Will Smith’s and Chris Rock’s actions have been thought-pieced to death. I don’t just want to have a hot take for the sake of having a hot take, but I do want to add to the conversation by highlighting a few considerations that I haven’t seen adequately addressed (at least to the same extent):

Respectability Politics

“What I will say is that, the politics of respectability often creates situations in which Black people do not get to feel the full range of their emotions because we must constantly be cognizant of who is watching and what they think of us.” — Ally Henny

I marvel at the juxtaposition of the calm composure of Ketanji Brown Jackson and the un-hinged, fly-off-the-handle actions of Will Smith. We praise…no, we expect… no we demand collectedness and a cool head even in the presence of insult, but we do not appreciate when someone reacts when provoked. We love to keep poking and poking and poking at people, and as soon as they finally “bruk out,” we often penalize (and sometimes criminalize) the understandable reaction to provocation. And I think that’s an issue.

I hate that there’s an expectation, especially for Black people, to smile and swallow whatever b.s. is thrown at you and your loved ones. I hate it all the more when it’s another Black person dishing it out.

I’m thinking about what Dr. Sam Rae posted on LinkedIn regarding Cory Booker’s words to Ketanji Brown Jackson at last week’s senate confirmation hearing:

“To place the weight of making America better on Judge Jackson as a Black woman represents exactly how America sees Black women. As a martyr. As a fixer. But never as a human just existing.

He also alluded to a lot. He said Harriet Tubman kept going despite how she was treated, and that is subtly signifying to Judge Jackson to keep going despite all the microaggressions we’re seeing her face on live TV and who knows what off camera.

That is the expectation. Black women are supposed to endure difficulties and keep going to save everyone else, to “change” things for everyone else without any real power to create that change.

This is also very similar to the plight of DEI directors and CDOs hired to change company culture without a team, without resources, and without leadership support.”

That last part about DEI directors is a story for another day (*looks around*).

In so many areas of life, people, especially marginalized people, are expected not to flinch in the face of insult, degradation, poverty, racism…

When Black people took to looting the streets and “destroying their communities” after the murder of George Floyd, so many people — most of them not Black — tried to perch on the moral high ground and discourage such “violence.” But when people have been brutalized and ignored for centuries, their screams falling on deaf ears, their children slaughtered without cause, without due process, without justice, to quote the venerable Martin Luther King Jr., “a riot is the language of the unheard” (a quote that is seldom uttered during Black History Month).

I’ve never been one to say never, so I won’t say that violence is never the answer. People who speak in absolutes are overly confident about the way the world works, and the longer I live, my “nevers” and my “always” are often (not always!) challenged and scrutinized.

I will say that sometimes violence is the only answer because one has been left with no choice. And sometimes violence is the necessary answer. And sometimes violence is the acceptable answer. And sometimes violence is the just answer. And sometimes violence is the only answer.

Self-control is laudable. Composure should be praised. Calm, cool, and collected is what I strive to be, and what we should all strive to be. And, at the same time, there is an expectation that Black people should never “act out,” regardless of what they may have faced or may be facing.

Jada was expected to just sit there quietly and “take a joke,” “be a good sport,” not be “so sensitive about losing your hair” and be okay with a comedian making fun of her on national television in front of millions of viewers and hundreds of colleagues for having alopecia, and Will was expected to just sit there and laugh and watch his wife’s face wince in pain. All I’m saying is that we live in world where a departure from an unreasonable expectation is often quickly and heavily derided and met with opprobrium, instead of questioning the very expectation in the first place.

Black Women Are Seldom Defended

I tried to be a good girlfriend and ordered jollof rice, pounded yam and egusi soup for my Nigerian ex-boyfriend once. Well, I tried to order. The night before he had had an upset stomach and that evening he wasn’t feeling well, so I tried to do what I’ve always wanted someone to do for me and surprise him with food at his doorstep so that he wouldn’t have to cook. The order never came. They cancelled it without explanation. When I messaged the Nigerian restaurant to investigate the whereabouts of the order, the Nigerian owner told me that he had “expected” (there’s that word again!) and assumed that I would just “place another order.” *side eyeeeee*

So, I informed him about his unprofessionalism, and this man reamed me out via Instagram messenger. In my pettiness, I screenshot our exchange and posted it to my stories on IG, without tagging him. He stalked my IG stories and reamed me out again.

I showed the messages to my ex-boyfriend (emphasis on ex) and he said that knowing his people, he wouldn’t even have messaged the individual. He started to talk to me about the depths to which Nigerian Twitter can drag someone, for example, and said I should have just let it go.

If I was honest, there’s a part of me that wishes he would have defended me against his fellow countryman. He later expressed his discomfort over such a generous display of affection and admitted that he was kind of glad that the order didn’t work out (again, emphasis on ex).

You see, Black women almost always have our man’s back. It so often feels like Black men, and men in general, seldom have ours.

Again, my social location as a Black woman — and a single Black woman at that — has already dictated how I see this Will and Jada thing. But I think my desire for partnership is rooted in a persistent unease that I am effectively doing life alone and no one has my back in a world where I am not valued or prized as a Black woman, and where few come to my aid, let alone my defence.

I wish I was in a relationship in which I knew my partner was ride or die and down for the cause and so I ate up these crumbs of protection that Will displayed, however “toxic” and however misplaced. No one could take my joy when I saw Cory Booker lift up and encourage Brown Jackson like that. In a desert of defence and dearth of protection, both events felt like an oasis for the parched and well-worn souls of Black women.

I really appreciate Ally Henny’s take on this:

“Maybe Will *was* acting out of a toxically masculine impulse, but it doesn’t necessarily have to be that. There’s room for nuance here.

Furthermore, I am tired of seeing women and femmes of whiteness talk about Will Smith through their lenses of patriarchy and toxic masculinity. I don’t know how, but a lot of y’all have managed to somehow make this about yourselves when it ain’t. Y’all want to cast Jada in woman of pallor terms that don’t work here.

We had a whole week of misogynoir playing in Black women’s faces and everybody saying “protect Black women” and “no one is more disrespected than Black women, poor black women.” Everybody wants to lament and fake boo-hoo about Black women being mistreated, but then when somebody makes an attempt to protect a Black woman the moment she was disrespected suddenly he didn’t do it right.

Black women *always* have to take up for ourselves. I cannot tell you the number of times I have been disrespected to my face and nobody but me saw fit to say something. It hurts to always have to be your own defender and champion all the time. I have been in so many situations where I wished someone would speak up on my behalf instead of me having to assume all the risk and weight of standing up for myself.

If Jada had stood up for herself cussed Chris Rock out, some of y’all would’ve called Will weak for just sitting there.”

“You can criticize their dynamic all you want, but in that moment, [Jada] felt protected. I want that for all Black women,” says GloGraphics.

Me too. Myself included.

Lupita

I noticed that Lupita Nyongo didn’t stop Will from speaking and did not interfere whatsoever with his actions. Others may have placed a hand on Will’s arm when he sat down, or put their arm around Will. Others may have shushed and hushed Will. Don’t get me wrong — I’m not saying that she should have. Speaking of expectations, I don’t think that’s a reasonable one. Perhaps she was too shocked to do or say anything. Perhaps she and Will are not well acquainted. Perhaps she thought it wasn’t her place…

Whatever it was, Lupita reminded me that sometimes when people are justifiably hurt or upset, let them be hurt and upset. Don’t police their anger, especially if you are not in their place.

To be a Black woman losing your hair, in the public eye… that’s hard. By now, you should know that the relationship that a Black woman has with her hair is a special one; ironically, the same man who was a narrator on this very topic was the same one who clowned Jada about her bald head at the Oscars. We live in a culture that doesn’t embrace baldness. We say we do, and we tell some women, “you could totally do the bald look,” but we laugh at balding men and baldness in general. So no matter how well Jada has sported her bald head, it doesn’t mean that it hasn’t come with tears, grief and deep insecurity. Just because we carry the load well, doesn’t mean it isn’t heavy.

Brotherhood

Let me just say that I love Denzel Washington. I’ve loved him ever since the Preacher’s Wife and Malcolm X. I loved him in Fences and The Great Debators and John Q. I loved him ever since he shared his story about being in a barber shop and a woman sharing with him that he was going to be a star. I loved him when I heard how he helped out Chadwick Boseman, and whenever I remember that he has a marriage in Hollywood that has stood the test of time.

But I loved him even more when I saw him, Tyler Perry, Sean “P. Diddy” Combs and Bradley Cooper rally around Will during the commercial break.

We all need people in our lives who will check up on us and who will hold us accountable in love. I’m thankful for the brotherhood that Will has, and it was heartening to see that most of that brotherhood on display was Black brotherhood.

Closing: My Grandfather

I didn’t get to know my maternal grandfather as much as I would’ve liked to, but one thing he always said is that “what is joke to you is death to me.” In other words, what you find funny might be killing me softly. I know that there’s been a lot of debate about comedic material and “political correctness.” I guess this is why I could not make a living as a comedian.

If this triggered a bunch of thoughts within you, that’s okay. This is actually more nuanced than meets the eye, and coating it in laughter and jokes doesn’t suddenly make it better.