Chapter 22: The Oscar Slap; Trauma Triggers, and Finding Humor Again

"Good humor is a tonic for mind and body. It is the best antidote for anxiety and depression. It is a business asset. It attracts and keeps friends. It lightens human burdens. It is the direct route to serenity and contentment." - Grenville Kleiser

March 27, 2022, the night of the 94th Academy Awards. I'm guessing you can already anticipate where this is going. And no, it's not about CODA winning Best Picture. The host Chris Rock made a "G.I. Jane" joke about Jada Pinkett Smith, who's shared her struggle with alopecia, which prompted her husband Will Smith, who would later win Best Actor for his role in King Richard, to get up on stage and slap Rock. Almost instantly, Twitter and Social Media were ablaze with reposts of the video, people posting their memes and cracking their best jokes, and pundits everywhere firing off their takes about what this moment would mean for Will Smith, Chris Rock, the Oscars, Comedians, Black Women's hair, Black Masculinity, etc. 

It was so overwhelming processing the myriad of emotions and thoughts going through my head. But the one thing I didn't feel like doing was laughing. I didn't feel like poking fun at the incident, poking fun at Will Smith, Chris Rock, or anyone else. I didn't want to see memes posted at their expenses. My body instinctually told me to get off Twitter, so I deleted the app from my phone. Twitter had long been my preferred Social Media outlet as an instant, continuous news source and to engage with fellow music, NBA, and pro wrestling fans. But there would be no filter strong enough to filter out all the Will Smith reactions. Then I promptly went on Instagram and proceeded to mute, unfriend, and block everyone who reposted the incident and/or shared a meme from the incident (so if you haven't heard from me in a few months, that's probably why #SorryNotSorry ).

The moment activated a lot of triggers and they felt like each of them were piercing my skin and hitting vital organs. Working in the field of Domestic Violence, I feel extra sensitive to any violence, fetishization, and misogyny towards Black women, even when directly and indirectly perpetuated by Black men. So my heart broke for Jada, everyone who struggles with alopecia, and the continued hatred of Black hair in our society. My heart broke for both Chris Rock and Will Smith, two men I had long admired in the entertainment world, that whatever miscommunication and disagreement these two had was aired out so publicly. My heart broke that for whatever good they had done and doors they have opened for other entertainers of color, this incident would be on paragraph one of their bios. My heart broke for Black men in Hollywood who's contributions and talents are often overlooked and rarely recognized in proportion to their white peers. Would this moment dissuade the "establishment" from nominating more Black men for Oscars because of lingering, subconscious beliefs that "these ****** don't know how to act"? (in their subconscious and behind closed doors I imagine a sizable portion of them say the N word with the hard R). 

I had a difficult time reconciling that within an hour of "the slap", Will Smith would accept his Best Actor win, without addressing the incident nor apologizing to Rock. Though I recognize that the slap and his Oscar win are completely unrelated and independent of one another, in the moment it felt like Smith was being rewarded for his behavior. It was all too much. To provide context, during this period in late March my mental health was already spiraling downward as I fell into the depths of my depression and anxiety. Just one week earlier, I had a very difficult conversation with my best friend about where our relationship stood, I opened up fully about my mental health struggles, and how I had been very much contemplating suicide. And while I felt gratitude to be able to be this honest and intimate with another person, my heart was still broken, and I had yet to begin therapy. Everything was hanging on my a thread. And the slap chopped that thread. If Will Smith's example was the type of masculinity we are supposed to celebrate and aspire for, then masculinity was in such a state of brokenness I didn't had any place in this world. I shut off my phone for the rest of the night, allowed myself to process this deep feeling of isolation and fatigue, and promptly went to sleep. In hindsight, I can understand how my "I have no place here" can sound very much like a suicide note, so I woke up to find my best friend tried to call and check on me. 

"I sat in a movie theater with a hundred laughing people, Béla [her husband] laughing loudest of all. I couldn't even crack a smile. Intellectually, I understood the purpose of the satire. I knew that laughter can lift, that it can carry us over and through difficult times. I knew that laughter can heal. But to hear ["Spring Time for Hitler", The Producers 1967] now, in this place, it is too much. I am furious at Béla, less for his absence of tact, more for his ability to move so quickly and successfully out of anguish." - Dr. Edith Eva Eger, The Choice   

(This is an excerpt from Dr. Edith Eva Eger's memoir, The Choice, a survivor of the Holocaust and her return to Auschwitz to fully heal herself from the trauma and survivor's guilt)

In the course of my typical conversations with Piper, she would occasionally bring up a recent Netflix Comedy Special because they are one of her outlets. When she referenced Taylor Tomlinson's "Look At You", I read the synopsis that included her mental health journey. And my mind was triggered back to the slap. I resented how quickly the world moved on so quickly. My trauma response (and MEMEification of social media) told me that a comedy routine about mental health was poking fun at me and anyone else suffering from mental health. The world had reinforced to me that "Will Smith" was the appropriate response to being the butt of a joke. By the way, I still haven't seen Tomlinson's special so that is a totally unfair and inaccurate representation of her comedy. I could recognize that laughter is a coping mechanism that helps many process painful experiences and a means to de-power traumas. But I wasn't ready to move on and I couldn't fast forward that process. 

Self-actualizing people have a good-natured sense of humor. They can laugh at themselves when they make mistakes and help others see humor in challenging situations. 

I don't remember when I was able to laugh again. It wasn't when I watched Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness in the theaters. Usually the MCU is very reliable for a few chuckles with their quippy protagonists and Benedict Cumberbatch was clearly positioned to be assume the Robert Downey Jr. role. If anything, I cried over the individual lessons Stephen Strange and Wanda Maximoff experienced in that story. I tried to enjoy Ali Wong: Don Wong comedy special on Netflix and though I'm generally a big fan of Wong's comedy, I was triggered at various moments when she discussed her love life because it confronted my deepest insecurities. I haven't seen any of the recent Dave Chappelle standup specials, especially his material on the trans community. I defer to the trans community if his jokes are offensive or not; I don't have the bandwidth right now to support any art that may (potentially) come at the expense of another marginalized community. I think back to all of the stand ups I watched and comedy albums I listened to growing up, whether it was Richard Pryor, Eddie Muphy, Martin Lawrence, Chris Rock, Dave Chappelle, Paul Mooney, the Kings of Comedy: Steve Harvey, Cedric the Entertainer, DL Hughley, Bernie Mack, Sarah Silverman, Whitney Cummings, Ali Wong, etc. Though I generally adhere to context and not relitigate all comedians as problematic by 2022 standards, I do recognize what jokes have aged poorly and it does effect my continued enjoyment of going back and rewatching those specials. 

Comedy wasn't the key to rediscovering my humor. It was a day trip to Solvang with Piper and her children. On the drive back I was admiring the view of the Pacific coast and took a video while imagining what inspirational quotes I'd caption it with. However, the video captured the playlist she was playing to stay awake so my captions gave way to Digital Underground's "The Humpty Dance" and Sir Mix-A-Lot's "Baby Got Back" (though I guess both are inspirational in their own way). It was when my clients and I looked back at all the hurdles they went through to get approved for Section 8 and find apartments. It was talking about "bad dates" with my therapist and accepting that they are no longer sources of pain and rejection but anecdotes I can reference to talk about miscommunication. It was laughing about the absurdity of a Health Inspection at work being scheduled the day after a holiday weekend but having the confidence that we'd still pass it anyways. It was watching the quizzical expression my puppy Nomah makes whenever he tell him it's bath time contrasted with the absolute fluency in which he understands when it's dinner time. 

In many ways I've moved on from the slap and the pains from earlier this year. While I may cannot laugh about those moments in particular, I have found moments of humor that have elicited smiles, comfort in shared experiences, and acknowledgment of the bullsh*t we endure in our daily routines. 

Knock, Knock. 

Who's there? 

FBI! Mr. Trump, we have a search warrant for stolen government documents.

C'mon, that sh*t's funny to me. Awwww, too soon? Go f*ck yourself (that's my weekly quota! And with that, goodnight everybody! See you next week.) 

Portrait photography: https://www.zacharyleeportrait.com