White Women: Stop Making “The Slap” About You
First and foremost, I am just one biracial Black woman. We are not a monolith and you are sure to find varying opinions about the “slap heard around the world” among us. I can only write this from my perspective and based on the mutual experiences of the Black women I’ve known throughout my life in regard to the so-called “toxic masculinity” Will Smith illustrated at the Oscars.
With that said, I’d like to have a word with the white feminists who have happened to come across this article.
White feminists: This is not about you.
The internet is not short on takes about how women can do anything. Women don’t need help. Women don’t need a man. And while some of this might be true, these “power-girl” phrases are lacking the nuance that exists for women of color, especially Black women.
CNN journalist Holly Thomas writes in her opinion article, “What Will Smith Did Isn’t What Women Want” that, “Smith’s reaction, like his words during his acceptance speech, were more about himself than his wife–and that’s what rankles most. Men shouldn’t use women’s interests as rationalization for hitting people–and sending the message that this is what women want of men is not only unhelpful, but potentially dangerous.”
I cannot help but be put off by Thomas’s assessment of the situation. Her view that Smith’s actions were more about himself than defending his wife is a speculation that is treated as a fact, and it paints a picture of a violent Black man waiting for the opportunity to hit someone. But her article does something else as well: It illustrates her perspective as a white woman and it fails to acknowledge that different women have varying experiences that shape our unique wants and needs from the men in our lives.
Throughout history, Black women have been stripped of our vulnerability. This was done to justify enslaving our ancestors and forcing them to do hard labor. We’ve been denied our femininity and made out to be asexual and sometimes aggressive care takers (see: Aunt Jemima) or oversexualized “Jezebels” (used to excuse white slave owners for raping their slaves). Black men were also subject to sexual abuse at the hands of white mistresses, who often used the patriarchy as a tool to paint themselves as helpless victims and Black men as animalistic brutes should they have gotten caught.
Unfortunately, these perceptions of Black women and men remain alive today. You needn’t look no further than the internet where several people, including white women, are painting Smith to be a violent maniac for slapping Chris Rock. Some have even gone so far to invite us to imagine the slap happening to the late Betty White. Morning Joe host Mika Brzezinski, stated on her show about Jada Pinkett-Smith that she “is one of the most empowered, helpful to women, women that [she has] ever […] seen out there in front. She is strong; she’s beautiful; she shares a lot of vulnerable stories during her ‘Red Table Talks.’ She goes where no one has the guts to go. She can take care of herself.”
Brzezinski’s take–that she can take care of herself– is the popular opinion about not only Pinkett-Smith, but of all Black women. In July of 2020, shortly after being hospitalized due to being shot by Tory Lanez, rapper Megan Thee Stallion took to Twitter to express her frustration feeling unprotected as a Black woman. Julie Plec, known for being one of the main writers for the show The Vampire Diaries responded with her own tweet to share her belief that Black women are going to “save” everyone and that putting pressure on her is meant to uplift and “celebrate” her.
Thanks.
We can debate whether or not Smith slapping Chris Rock was the right way to handle a joke made at the expense of Pinkett-Smith who has been open about her trauma due to hair loss caused by alopecia. However, to call the act of defending his wife “toxic masculinity” is an eye-roll inducing reach for many Black women. It is easy to paint Smith’s actions as sexist when you are used to being protected without having to ask. But for many Black women, such as comedian Tiffany Haddish who called it the “most beautiful thing” she had ever seen, it was refreshing.
In all of this, I’m not asking white feminists to switch to “Team Will.” I’m asking you to stop, for just a minute or two, and think outside of yourself and your experiences for once. Stop and listen to what we have to say on the matter. Consider the differences in our histories. Consider the fact that we, as a group, are not seen as worthy of protection as you are. Then maybe you won’t write such embarrassing think-pieces that paint the needs and wants of all women in one brush stroke.
