What If Will Smith Killed Himself?

With what has been dubbed “The Slap Heard ‘Round the World,” Will Smith has driven many of us between an unimaginable rock and hard place. For the better part of the last thirty years, Will has been the guy. Formidable yet modest. Playful yet wholesome. Talented yet accessible. Such role models come less than once a generation. Maybe it was his ability to personify goodness across different mediums that made his violent fall from grace so jarring. If Will Smith was capable of succumbing to a horrible lapse in judgement, are any of us safe from our own toxicity? Perhaps not. Perhaps the demons of our nature are stronger than we’d like to concede. As uncomfortable as it is to admit that we are capable of such abhorrent behavior, it is also easy to get caught in the weeds of blame. This blame has made it easy to ignore the mental health perspective. After all, if an open hand slap in front of a global audience is what it takes for us to take men’s mental health seriously, we’re left with a grave implication that toxicity is inherent to manhood. Deeper down the unproductive spiral, we ask every question we can think of that allows us to remain safe from the gallows this sort of behavior stems from. Will was distraught. Will was deranged. Will acted out of character. If it is worth noting that this is a character built for public consumption, then it is then worth accounting for the decades of consistent behavior that has made for easy pictures drawn in the minds of fans. Now, with a crack in his armor on record, it begs an inquiry of parallels; when else do we find ourselves describing behavior this way? What sorts of catastrophes follow a storm that has brewed like this? What sorts of standing regrets do we have about how we’ve reacted to these behaviors before? I suppose, the question I’m reaching for the tact to provoke is: What if Will Smith killed himself?

The incident at the Oscars left us with a lot to unpack. My initial reaction was disappointment. I grew up with The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air as many of us did. When his fame began to rise, I finally had a successful male figure in the media I would’ve wanted as my big brother. He encapsulated the goodness available among figures in hip-hop when every adult in my world assured me that baggy jeans and backwards hats were synonymous with drugs and violence (jokes on them, skinny jeans are for drugs and violence now). More than mere disappointment, I was angry at Will. Part of me had forgotten that the image forged of him – or of anyone for that matter – in my head had little to do with the actual person. I was mad at him for becoming a real, fallible, imperfect human, while having the audacity to stay in his tuxedo for the rest of the night. Media figures were quick to echo this sentiment with far less compassion. Some described him as unhinged and insisted we were finally seeing the “real Will Smith.” Others took the opportunity to chastise Jada Pinkett Smith for having emasculated him over an extended period of time. I admit, I am quite convinced that her villainous presence was a catalyst to what we’ve witnessed with Will, if not, at least, a large factor in it. While refusing to acknowledge heinous infidelity as a transgression on the internet could have been traumatic, this isn’t about her. Talking points such as these have been exhausted for the better part of the month following the event. While there have been lights shone on Will’s mental health and the role it may have played, I think we are wasting this crucial opportunity to analyze ourselves.

I didn’t watch the Oscars live. I had an early Monday morning ahead of me, and I was sure I would quickly catch the winners the next day the same way I catch the scores when the Yankees play on the west coast. To the chagrin of every wellness coach on Instagram, I scrolled on my phone as soon as I woke up (take that). You already know what I saw. Post after post, meme after meme, hot take after hot take about the ‘greatest night in the history of television.’ Even at four in the morning, it was difficult to find the original video. Once I did, the bewilderment I reacted with felt as if he had slapped me too. I couldn’t comprehend what Will was thinking. The flawed perspective of looking at and analyzing Will as an outsider would get me nowhere. It has been a maxim I have lived by to never underestimate how human humans can be. His puzzling conduct left me to face the awful truth that I have felt that kind of rage before. You have too. Yes you have. Yes, you have. If not, you may be ignoring pieces of yourself that you’d better get to know before they jump to greet others on your behalf. More than likely, you are lying to yourself. Maybe it was the parent that wouldn’t let you have your way or the kid in school that wouldn’t leave you alone. Maybe it was the boss that wouldn’t lay off your case. Maybe it was the friend that betrayed you. Maybe, it was the self-righteous aggression that prompted Will to foam at the mouth as he lambasted a confused Chris Rock from his seat. There was an emphasis in the expletives that reeked of a hostility we have all felt. After a short time I understood that under the right circumstances, I could have been Will. But what circumstances would have to conspire to turn me into…that? Depends. When I was deeply depressed, it wouldn’t take much. I was recklessly irritable. Maybe I wasn’t violent because I didn’t have the energy to be so. In a bout of anxiety, it would be even easier. A paranoid state is good soil for destructive fruit. Within minutes of introspection, I had two plausible seeds for a radioactive mood. Another painful observation was how afterwards, Will Smith could not stop crying. At first, his insistence that Chris Rock removes Jada’s namesake from his gullet seems wholly vitriolic. But like many have pointed out, Will’s reaction was not commensurate with the gravity of the joke. It honestly, wasn’t even very funny, let alone worthy of a hateful response. Again, I brought the perspective inward. When I display or observe an emotional response that does not match what it is in response to, I need to ask: who was that actually for? Where do those emotions belong? Why are they coming out all at once? In my most vulnerable emotional and mental states, it became difficult to separate emotions from each other. I never avoided anger because I thought I would become violent, but because I knew that tears would pool on my eyelids as if my emotions were incapable of taking their respective turns. Tears would come with anger, aggression would come with fear, cowardice would come with jealousy. I understand the sensical links between these things, but we are still describing flawed, unprocessed reactions, not reasoned responses from a place of self-awareness. I am not attempting to hastily diagnose someone I have never met, but in having Will Smith as a role model, and having adopted some of his traits for myself, I needed to take stock. I have been Will Smith. Will Smith has been me. If that is what I was like when I was in morbid disarray, is Will Smith in danger too?

Suicide leaves survivors feeling helpless. At times, those close may say there were no signs. Other times, there were signs, leaving behind a guilt one could never comprehend. Maybe there were mood swings or episodes of them acting wildly out of character. There will seem to be incidents that should have been met with compassion instead of force, even if the moment called for accountability. This guilt, of course, is a normal response to grief. But there is something to be said about behaviors being observed with eyes wide open and not solely through the lens of discipline. Will has presented many of these behavioral red flags for the world to watch forever. Where things get muddled at this point is the misinterpretation that compassion absolves someone of accountability. Let us be crystal clear about this – Will Smith slapping Chris Rock in response to a joke at the Oscars was a shining example of toxic masculinity. During a time where many of us are desperately trying to convince the world that masculinity is not toxic, Will Smith put a huge piece of progress made by masculine men at risk. Chris Rock’s professionalism and class was crucial to preserving what Will put at stake. Will deserves every minute of his decade-long punishment from the Academy. His actions were his and he deserves to pay for them.
But…

Imagine the world woke up to a headline that read:

“BREAKING NEWS: WILL SMITH DIES BY SUICIDE”

Does our perspective on how we react to his actions change? Do we then wish we would’ve held multiple truths in our heads at once? Would we lament not making an effort to balance accountability and compassion? What is the net output of a finished life? When the good and bad are balanced and settled, will Will Smith’s impact be relegated to a raw, human moment? Sure, the stakes were high and the risk was large. But consider Lou Gehrig, a legendary baseball player known for grace and humility, once knocked out an opposing player in a game during a brawl. Frank Sinatra, a timeless American icon and the voice of the 20th century, had an abusive temper. John F. Kennedy, beloved American president, was a chronic womanizer. None of these revered and respected men should have gotten away with anything they did wrong. Every one of them still deserve their good standing in the hearts of others. Thus, if Will Smith were to kill himself, would we say that was a worthy outcome? Or would we regret our willful ignorance to the signs in front of us? Chances are we would understand the signs. Maybe then we would better comprehend the effect of Jada having emasculated him in front of the world during Red Table Talk in 2020. Maybe we would embrace his memory as a man and as a human instead of turning his tearful eyes into a meme. Chastising someone is easy until they are found unresponsive and declared dead by first responders. I know that I have acted the way Will has acted, and have considered far, far worse behavior over much, much less. During bouts of depression, I hated being alive without my life being public. I would’ve welcomed dying even while I was in a healthy relationship. I envisioned making corpses of those that slighted me in private, let alone on a global stage. Yes, Will Smith horribly misbehaved. Will Smith should pay. Will Smith, should be allowed to recover. Will Smith, should be able to be ok. We should be able to learn. For all of us that looked in the mirror and sought to imitate someone like Will, we should still be looking in the mirror, acknowledging that we can mess up that badly too, and resolve to learn from his mistakes without the precursor of mourning.

While I am angry with what he did, I am grateful that Will is still with us. Because chances are you, just as I, can think of at least one person with parallels to Will that is no longer. Chances are it’s too late to grab that father, brother, uncle, son, or friend, to sit back down and help him up from the depths. There’s a decent chance, that may have almost been you. I am grateful for examples like Chris Rock who never lost his poise, and showed how to be a gentleman when no one would’ve blamed him for letting himself go. I am grateful for men like Denzel Washington that met Will in those tearful depths moments afterwards, instead of wincing and retreating. In a world of voices that are rabidly awaiting the downfall of a good man to feed on, be a Denzel when the men in your life lose themselves. Understand, that a man in the process of losing himself may be doing so in an extremely literal sense. How far will the men you love fall before they become someone we’ve lost?