It strikes me (pun unintentional) that this entire debate about Will Smith slapping Chris Rock for insulting Jada Pinkett Smith all boils down to the setting and enforcement of boundaries. And let’s be clear: it is obvious that what Rock (producer of the 2009 documentary Good Hair) said about Pinkett Smith’s appearance crossed a line for her.

The conversations I’ve seen online are arguments over who has the right to set boundaries around how they want to be treated, whether a person’s particular boundaries have merit, who has the right to enforce those boundaries, and how those boundaries should be enforced. The conversations I’ve seen online have made me furious. Neither Rock’s unfunny joke nor Smith’s surprising slap can touch how angry friends’ and strangers’ hot takes have left me. Let me summarize what I’ve seen.

Some people think that if a woman has a sexual history of which they disapprove, she has no right to say how she wants to be treated. Others say that our loved ones have no place to enforce our boundaries on our behalf; it’s possessive and patriarchal. There’s the “violence is never OK” crowd, who believe no physical act is justified, even to defend a person’s humanity. We’ve got way too many folks speaking as though people with medical conditions or disabilities are humorless kill-joys with no right to say, “No, I won’t be the punchline of your joke.” There’s a general consensus that celebrities have traded their right to set boundaries for fame. And while we’re all free to debate when and if a slap should be used to enforce a personal boundary, most have focused solely on this boundary’s enforcement, instead of addressing the actual violation of it. 

Although Smith has apologized for his reaction, people are still demanding that the Academy take back his Oscar (they’ve launched an investigation, never mind that Harvey Weinstein gets to keep his). But I’m still looking: where is Rock’s apology for crossing the line and publicly humiliating a disabled Black woman? Where is the public outcry for Rock’s apology to Pinkett Smith? Why is our cultural discourse so laser-focused on transforming a man who hurt a Black woman into the victim, and finding ways to make her the villain? And when will you apologize to all the Black women who have seen you clearly say that we don’t matter? When will you apologize for using #protectBlackwomen to make yourself look good instead of actually standing up for us?

Every person has the right to determine how they want to be treated, what behavior they will and will not accept from others. Every person has the right to respond to behaviors they deem unacceptable. That means that every person has different boundaries – a joke to one person might cross the line for someone else – and ways to address people who overstep. I’d also argue that every person has the right to expect the people who love them to support them in their response.

But it’s also clear to me that how we view boundaries and their enforcement varies dramatically, depending on who is involved. I don’t recall any uproar about “violence is never the answer” in 2012, when Will Smith slapped a reporter who tried to kiss him without his consent. No, that was celebrated as self-defense against a pushy paparazzi.

Now indulge me in a hypothetical, just for a moment. It’s Sunday night at the Oscars. Michael J. Fox is sitting in the front row. The presenter for best documentary, Chris Rock, sees him and makes a joke: “Michael, can’t wait for The King’s Speech 2.” A camera pans to Fox, who is clearly upset by the off-handed remark about his Parkinson’s symptoms. His wife Tracy Pollan walks onstage and slaps Chris Rock, twice telling him, “Keep my husband’s name out of your fucking mouth.” Now tell me: is Pollan a hero who defended her spouse from abuse that crossed a clear line? Or is her action “pure out of control rage and violence” that overshadowed Questlove and Will Smith’s first Oscar wins?

Food for thought. I’ll let El-Hajj Malik El-Shabazz take it from here.

Tierra

A malcontent with a heart of gold, Tierra is a first-year medical student, former high school teacher and history PhD candidate, plus mom to four of Bebe’s baddest kids. She curses a lot. Tierra is a DC native but lives in southwest Michigan and will happily exchange writing (hers) for cash (yours).