I remember Will Smith from the eighties and Chris Rock from the nineties. Before this incident I had never heard of Jada Pinkett Smith nor had I ever heard of alopecia. I still have never once uttered any of the words out loud and despite spending the day glued to Twitter’s spoken chat room feature Spaces I’m still not sure how to pronounce alopecia. I heard it said dozens, if not hundreds, of times today but never decided to roll it off my own tongue. Wikipedia simply directs it to “hair loss”.
One time back when I was still in college I was eating in the student union, near the TV, and the program was about hair loss in women. My female cohorts were literally gasping in horror at the possibility. As a man, I always ask for them to set the shears at number two when I get my haircut at local barber academy. Without fail, I hear someone direct the student barber to set it to number three out of fear that my hair is too thin on top or whatever. I tell them it’s fine, I don’t care, but they ignore me and after they finish with the number three they think they’re clever when I say it’s fine. The truth is, I do not give a fuck about my hair but I do hate having to go to the barber, even though some funny shit is usually going down in that teaching spot. But whatever, about that digression, I get it, hair is very important to most women. Full disclosure, I think men who get treatment for baldness or spend more than a few seconds coming their hair are… funny.
So when I first saw that Will Smith slapped Chris Rock I had no idea why but I didn’t even need a reason. I instantly fell in love with the action and was hoping to God it wasn’t staged. When I heard Will Smith yelling, “Keep my wife’s name out your fucking mouth!” I was elated to realize indeed this was for real.
Just minutes earlier I was looking at an ad for the Oscars on Twitter and was thinking, “Fuck these rich cunts!” I was thinking artists are supposed to be raw and exposed not dressed up in clothes I could never afford acting like they’re better than me. I was thinking I get why the far right hates these cunts. Then glory to God, Will Smith went and did something human, gritty, and trashy.
PUNK ROCK!
I loved seeing Chris Rock submit. And the more I dug into the story the more I loved it. I like how Will Smith simply wouldn’t have it. How the solution couldn’t wait. I loved the simplicity of the solution. I loved the sincere visceral nature of it. I loved that there was a clear winner and loser. And even though, ultimately, it turned out to be more complicated than that, even now, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it. Fuck Will Smith’s tearful speech and, later, further apology. I’m sticking with the slap.
I remember when Rock the House came out and the song that featured Ready Rock C doing the Sanford and Son them “underwater”. I remember imitating it during my high school graduation. I’m still certain that Will Smith never topped it. Fuck his garbage movies.
Mainly, what I remember Chris Rock for is the skit he dropped back in 96: Niggas vs. Black People. Even back then, it was obvious to me Chris Rock was pandering to white racists. I’d heard that trope countless times and always found it stupid. I will admit that Chris Rock presented the trope in an amusing way but still, despite Chris Rock’s apparent grittiness, if I had any reason to compare the two men before the slap, it’s obvious Will Smith is the real deal.
Today, because of this incident, I dug deeper into both men. I heard Chris Rock green lighting a Louis CK for the n-word and Seinfeld having the good sense to avoid it. I also watched Will Smith interview his own wife about fucking some other dude. My conclusion? Famous people love being famous. Degrade my race, fuck my wife, as long as I’m getting the attention. And that thought is the only thing that makes me think it’s not entirely unthinkable these two planned this in advance. And if they did, good on them.
Warmth Highest 