A Few Thoughts on Last Night's Oscars and What Strength Looks Like

 

So last night was pretty wild.

If you didn’t see it live, you’ve heard about it by now. Comedian Chris Rock, onstage at the Oscars to present the award for Best Documentary Feature, made a joke at Jada Pinkett-Smith’s expense, saying he couldn’t wait to see her star in G.I. Jane 2, a reference to the actress’s shaved head. Her husband, Best Actor nominee (now winner) Will Smith laughed along with the crowd initially, but Jada did not, and after seeing his wife’s expression, Will took action. Striding onstage, Smith marched up to Rock, slapped him across the face with an open hand, returned to his seat, and twice bellowed at Rock to “keep my wife’s name out your ****ing mouth.” A jarred Rock finished the award presentation and the show went on.

Watching live, it wasn’t totally clear at first what we’d just seen, in part because ABC bleeped more than thirty seconds of the audio due to Smith’s cursing. The audience, both in the theater and watching on television, seemed uncertain whether they’d just watched a staged bit or whether it was what it looked like. But as information started to trickle in from the theater and online, it became clear that it was exactly what it looked like: in Rock’s own words, “Will Smith just smacked the **** out of me.”

It was a surreal thing to watch live. And I’m not going to lie, it was incredibly entertaining television, especially when everyone collectively realized Smith would likely be back onstage making an acceptance speech before the end of the night. But it was also ugly—and perhaps indicative of some bigger problems we see in our own, non-Hollywood lives.

Let’s start with Chris Rock and the joke he made. Smith defenders were quick to add context to his and his wife’s outrage—Pinkett-Smith made public last year that she suffers from severe alopecia, so her shaved head is the result of a medical condition, not a fashion choice. Rock’s joke, Smith fans cried, was a low blow, an undignified cheap shot on what should be a celebratory night.

Sure, Rock’s defenders replied, but Chris Rock is a professional comedian. His job is to make jokes, often at people’s expense. And Oscar presenters have been making roast-style cracks at the expense of movie stars since the days of Bob Hope. Whether Rock knew about Pinkett-Smith’s condition or not, it was certainly no excuse for Smith’s behavior. It was just a joke.

Wherever you fall, this much is true: Chris Rock made a mean-spirited joke about a colleague’s appearance. And things escalated from there.

Which brings us to Will Smith. His defenders and his attackers alike have been speculating ever since the slap about the state of his marriage to Jada Pinkett-Smith. Through a variety of interviews and talk show appearances, the two Smiths have made clear that their marriage is not traditionally monogamous and that neither has been entirely faithful to the other. What’s more, Smith grew up in an abusive home where he witnessed his father hit his mother and felt powerless to stop it. Oh, and for what it’s worth, Smith was preparing for the biggest moment of his professional life, the culmination of decades in show business. So there was a lot of emotional baggage, a swirling mixture of pride and shame and ego, that carried into his decision to leave his seat and take matters into his own hands.

But whatever his motivation, Smith chose violence. Instead of letting it go, instead of waiting until after the show to talk to Rock, instead of consoling Jada, Smith chose to publicly assault and scream at the man who’d mocked his wife.

And then, upon winning the Oscar for Best Actor and being given a platform to say whatever he wanted in front of millions, Smith abandoned whatever speech he’d prepared and spent six minutes verbally processing what he’d done. He apologized to the Academy and the audience—but not, crucially, Chris Rock—and rationalized what he’d done as “defending his family.” What comes next, only time will tell.

So let’s talk for a second about Chris Rock and Will Smith, two men who have reached heights of fame and fortune that most of us can only imagine, yet who—in entirely different ways—showed just how fragile modern masculinity can be.

Rock showed us what petty, mean masculinity looks like. The kind that makes snide cracks at other people’s expense and, when called on it, puts its hands up and says, “Geez, can’t you take a joke?” The kind that finds value in cheap laughs instead of hard-won respect. The kind that lifts itself up by tearing others down.

Smith showed an even uglier, more dangerous version of masculinity. The kind that responds to not getting its way with a tantrum and without regard for the setting. The kind that escalates conflicts from verbal to physical. The kind that sees violence as an outlet and a solution at the same time, responding to emotional distress with physical aggression. The kind of caveman masculinity that says I will beat you into submission. The kind that refuses to apologize because it can’t abide the thought that it’s done wrong.

Both versions of masculinity—the cynical, snide, petty troll and the self-righteous, angry, violent narcissist—are tremendously prevalent these days. So many men, confused and threatened by the rapidly changing world around them, are responding by lashing out. So many men, obsessed with the appearance of control, are trying to show their strength by inflicting it on others. Whether with jokes or with fists, so many men are trying to heal themselves by hurting others.

But at the end of the Oscar ceremony, we were shown a different kind of strength, courtesy of the final presenter, pop star and Oscar winner Lady Gaga. She came onstage with show biz legend Liza Minelli, who is clearly ailing at age 76. Minelli was in a wheelchair, fumbled her lines, and seemed confused and flustered by all that was happening around her, laughing more than she spoke. Gaga, after graciously introducing Minelli, gave her the spotlight only for it to become apparent that Minelli might not be able to handle it. In a masterclass of helping without condescending, Gaga allowed Minelli to reach the end of her thought before stepping in to finish the presentation. Then, in a moment captured by a hot mic, she leaned over and softly told Minelli, “I've got you.” A grateful Minelli whispered back, “I know, thank you!”

That is strength. Lifting others up with kindness instead of raising yourself up at their expense. Responding to chaos with kindness and grace instead of bitterness and aggression. Being a servant instead of a star.

I wouldn’t have guessed I’d learn so much about masculinity from the Oscars. I wouldn’t have guessed that an awards show would become such a parable about strength. I wouldn’t have guessed that the strongest person onstage would be Lady Gaga.

But then again, I wouldn’t have guessed that the Almighty would become a baby, that the Alpha and Omega would wash feet, that the King of Kings would become a Suffering Servant. I never would have imagined that the Creator of the universe would save the world as a Crucified Christ.

Strength looks so much different than men like me think it does. We still have so much to learn.