Alopecia can be an autoimmune disease. This is what Jada Pinkett Smith suffers from. His immune system attacks his hair follicles, which can cause hair loss, among other things. But alopecia can also be caused by chemical or physical damage to the hair. Black women, for example, are particularly likely to live with what is called traction alopecia. Because we are steeped in a culture that has long described our natural hair as repulsive, or unprofessional, many of us have experimented with toxic relaxers, or weaving methods that damage the scalp.
To hide the damage—and to avoid the teasing that still often accompanies a short, natural haircut, which can help stabilize the situation—many women opt for hairstyles that further aggravate alopecia. The vicious circle, costly both in terms of health and money, is fueled by standards of beauty that remain, let’s face it, frankly racist.
Hair loss is therefore a particularly sensitive issue for black women. It affects privacy, ideals of femininity, the wallet, public health. To learn more about the subject, we could watch the classic documentary good hair (2009), produced and narrated by none other than… Chris Rock. The comedian knows the issue inside and out (and therefore has no excuses).
Using one’s career as a comedian to denigrate a disability, an illness, or its symptoms is always in bad taste. But to understand why Chris Rock’s bad joke about Jada Pinkett Smith’s shaved head stung so many black women on social media on Oscar night, you have to be familiar with that cultural context. In the eyes of many, Chris Rock crossed the line on Sunday evening.
When we do not know this context, we only detect one scandal: that of the slap of Will Smith, husband of Jada Pinkett Smith, to Chris Rock. Certainly, the assault was completely unacceptable. We were swimming somewhere between the medieval chivalrous imagination and ordinary machismo.
Paraphrase: You insult “my” wife, I react instinctively, without even consulting “my” wife on how she wants me to intervene. I have the choice (and the privilege) of words, but I opt for physical violence, more virile. I’m screaming that you must never take it out on “my” wife again. Because my reaction is less about “my” woman than about my masculinity. I am a real man, a Protector, a Patriarch. You must learn to respect my wife, less as a person than because she is my wife. What matters, deep down, is less that you respect her than you fear me.
The script is culturally very ingrained, and many people — including many women — still value this so-called “galant,” or territorial, side of patriarchy. Applauding the Protective Man and his defense of “his wife” cannot of course ultimately lead to security and dignity for all women. This being the case, here again, it is necessary to dig into the context again to understand why so many people, since last night, refuse to condemn Will Smith.
One of Malcolm X’s most famous quotes dates from 1962: “The black woman is the least respected, the least protected and the most neglected in America”. Sixty years later, a set of socio-economic indicators show that the reality has changed too little. And in North American culture, the cliché of the “damsel in distress” has never applied to black women, who we continue to imagine to be strong, so strong even that harming them would be without consequence.
Just last week, many watched in dread as Republican senators question Ketanji Brown Jackson, the first black woman to be appointed to the US Supreme Court. She was asked all sorts of demeaning questions, unrelated to her (irreproachable) skills, in an attempt to paint her as an extremist who would laps into “anti-white racism” (sic). Faced with the barrage of insults, she had to remain calm, composed, smiling. We hailed his grace. Behind the admiration, there is this message, basically: even laden with diplomas, at the height of her career, a woman like her can only take the attacks in silence without flinching, without revealing her humanity.
It is no coincidence, therefore, that a few days after this sad political spectacle, celebrities excuse Will Smith’s gesture by stressing that he at least has the “merit” of having interrupted the rain of perpetual attacks on black women, even rich and powerful. In short, some would rather be badly defended than not defended at all. The false dilemma shows how low expectations remain, making the words of Malcolm X relevant.
Will Smith, it should also be noted in closing, does not seem to be at the top of his (mental) form. He has already opened up on several occasions in recent years, on a particularly difficult experience of his youth. He still resents the child he was, who could not defend his mother struggling with his violent father. The information does not justify anything, but it gives an explanation not only for the gesture (of overcompensation), but also for the river speech that followed, when he won the Oscar for best actor.
American society has yet to figure out how to react ethically to Kanye West, that other ultra-rich and mega-famous black man who exhibits inappropriate and even dangerous behavior on the one hand, while being emotionally very vulnerable on the other hand. ‘somewhere else. We are still groping for the balance of firmness, compassion and respect for all parties involved necessary for healing. We are looking for Kanye, for Will Smith, and also surely, for many much lesser-known men, men from our daily lives, who, in some respects, look a bit like them.