By Craig Colby
The biggest blow of Oscar night wasn’t the one Will Smith delivered to Chris Rock. It wasn’t the backlash to the Hollywood elite who cheered Smith either. It wasn’t even the damage to Smith’s reputation.
The biggest shot was to toxic masculinity.
Marinating in Machismo
To understand why Smith threw the punch in the first place, you need to appreciate the era Smith was raised in, the one I was raised in too. Our generation was taught to defend ourselves. When we were young, punching was just something boys did. A teacher once scolded me after a school yard fight, not for hitting another student, but for doing it during school hours when the teacher had to punish me. Turns out, I wasn’t the only one who had an issue with the other boy. When we grew up, we were expected to defend our families, no matter the cost. The values were ingrained into the storytelling of the day.
In his autobiography, Smith wrote about the regret he felt when he didn’t defend his mother from his father. No doubt that informed Smith’s decision making at the Oscars too. There was fuel for his righteous anger. Smith had to be the man. That’s where things get toxic. Smith didn’t tell Rock to stop making fun of Jada’s medical condition. He told Rock not to talk about” my wife.” Smith acted like the affront was to Smith himself. The message was clear – you mess with me or what’s mine and the result will be violence.
The Aftershock
Then everyone had to sit in it for a while. It’s hard to know what to do in shocking moments like that. I once saw two guys in a knock-down-drag-out fight by a swimming pool, complete with thrown chairs and falling in the water. The victor, I guess, sat down at the table he was visiting with blood running out of his nose. Everyone just sat there, not knowing what to do. Eventually, the pugilist left to get repairs and never came back. Hollywood just sat there too. Some people comforted Smith.
In a twist befitting Hollywood, Smith won the Best Actor Oscar and had to talk, which he did, almost entirely about himself. Smith rambled between justifying his actions and apologizing to everyone but Rock. He cried, trying to brush off his tears as a tribute to other peoples’ accomplishments. To me, he looked conflicted, confused. He'd done what he’d been trained to do since youth, defend his wife, right? But it didn’t feel right. To me, it looked like Smith was crying because he was upset and couldn’t make sense of it. I’ve seen that look before – in my children, two sons.
The apology came the next day, on Instagram. Cynics will say his publicists either put him up to it or wrote it themselves. Personally, I think Smith finally realized he wasn’t the hero he’d been trained to be. He was the bad guy.
Why It Matters
Does this even matter in a time when we have much bigger problems, like a war in Ukraine, and the fallout from an insurrection in the United States? Yes, it does. Many of these problems come from the same place – indoctrinating people to believe the solution to their problems is striking out against someone else. That’s where colonialism came from. That’s why Ukraine is burning. That’s why gun violence is out of control in places. And like it or not, things that happen in celebrity land, where audiences go to escape, resonate in a way real world horrors don’t.
What happened at the Oscars was shocking but relatable. We understand making a bad joke, wanting to defend a loved one, and an emotional confrontation at a work function. We feel the shock of violence and recognize, mostly in ourselves, the complicit inaction of everyone in the room. And in this setting, it’s unsettling. We’re forced to reflect on what it means to us.
Here’s the real kicker. The violence doesn’t work. Toxic masculinity is a watering can for more problems. The biggest result of Smith’s slap is the focus going from Rock’s poor taste to Smith’s poor choice. The shining moment of Smith’s career will always be associated with his own childishness.
Taking It on the Chin
If you want an example of what masculinity should look like, it was on the stage with Smith, receiving the punch. Rock could have fought back, escalating the confrontation even further. Instead, he pointed out the absurdity of the situation, then finished his job. There was no preening, just professionalism. I don’t know how he did it. Even if you didn’t like his joke, and I didn’t -making fun of someone’s medical condition is bad form - you have to acknowledge that Rock was just doing his job and we’ve all heard worse at an awards show.
Smith spent the rest of the night partying with his Oscar, rapping along to his own music in a circle of admirers. At some point, though, his conscience caught up with him. The next morning, he issued an apology to Chris Rock, and it felt sincere. It needed to be. Because the night before, Smith’s son Jaden tweeted out “And That’s How We Do It” in support of his dad’s punch. The biggest damage from that hit isn’t to Rock’s face or Smith’s reputation. It’s to the younger generation who are told this is how you handle your business.
The Response
The good news is that the response has been overwhelmingly, although not exclusively, negative. It’s starting to sink in. This is not how we do it. Not even close. This is not being a man. Real men are not the cause of strife. They’re the solution. Real men don’t use their fists. They follow the instructions they give their children – they use their words.
In his apology, Smith said he is a work in progress. The world is too. Sometimes, these broken moments provide the lessons cultures need to move forward. I hope the response to that smack at the Oscars can also be a knockout punch to an antiquated, ineffective, and damaging image of masculinity. I hope the words being shared around the world today show us a far better way to man up.
Craig Colby is a television executive producer, producer, director, writer and story editor. He runs a storytelling consulting and production service for businesses.
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