A little while ago, I wrote about the Will Smith fiasco. Watching celebrities smile, chuckle, and chortle at Jada Pinkett-Smith's expense made me uncomfortably aware of the all the times I'd allowed my own fit-in-with-the-crowd laughter to become complicit in someone else's pain.
Since then, a few friends have roped me into deeper conversations on the subject. (I love, love, love having friends who think deeply, discourse diplomatically, and converse curiously.) They've confabulatedly poked and prodded, trying to get me to share what I thought about the true meat of the action - Will Smith's hand meeting Chris Rock's still-grinning, totally unsuspecting cheekbone.
Inquiring minds wanted me to try and pick a side - did I think he was right to do it?
I had thoughts, of course. But I'm not on board with our societal obsession with what celebrities do and say. They're people, just like anyone else. Hollywood has the same full range of idiocy to brilliance that we have in our own quotidian spheres.
Plus it's tricky for me to weigh in on the moral rights and wrongs of Will Smith striding angrily toward the stage to defend his wife, because (1) I'm not even sure what I'd want James to do if my secret struggles were being used to draw laughs, and (2) I'm not sure we as a world should feel like it's our place to determine what's right or proper for any spouse to do to protect their partner - celebrity or not. I’ve cringed as entertainment analysts eagerly tore into the private sanctum of the Smith-Pinkett marriage to try and contextualize the rightness of this gobsmacking (pun intended) moment at the Oscars.
But I found it curious that some time after that, I came across news that Dave Chapelle had been assaulted. While performing at Los Angeles' Hollywood Bowl arena, a man had run onstage and tackled the comedian with a wickedly modified weapon in hand.
Then, while scrolling through headlines this past month, I found out that a fan at a UFC event tried to rush the Octagon at the Footprint Center in Phoenix, Arizona. It wasn't for any particular agenda besides social media stunting, but it was just another puzzling case of the audience coming up on stage to try and wreck the show.
When did we begin to think we were qualified to intervene in an ongoing performance? By what sudden rush of authority do we feel like it's all right to get up from our seats, move up the rows, and hop onstage to take over? To me, it just seems to reflect a rising practice of meddling in places where we ought not meddle - literally and metaphorically.
For instance, why must we determine the criminality of what happens to a woman's body on political battlefields? Abortion is a hot button topic, and I won't get into the fierce mental tug of war that happens in my brain between my Koreanness, my upbringing, and this desperate need to protect my own body from interloping legislators. But there are times when I watch the debates, the headlines, and the court cases (many of which have a surprising preponderance of males in the room), and I can't help but get the nagging feeling that all these heated arguments are more about protecting paychecks and political podiums than true empathy for life and women's rights.
We're living in an era when anyone can be an expert. Thanks to the globality and easy access of information, one can Google their way to the most erudite forms of expertise (here's looking at you, rock skipping tutorial that's been sitting in my YouTube playlist). A seeming side effect of all this newfound confidence is that baby experts feel like they can go flinging their learnings in actual experts' faces. They have all the pomp and confidence of a newly minted graduate, but the actual aptitude of a five year old. (Apologies to all the amazing five-year-olds I know, who would be insulted if they knew to whom they were being compared).
So now armchair sports fans scream at umpires like they spent years in such training. Parents challenge their child's teacher at every turn because they finished a child psychology book last year. Angry patrons take to Yelp and vow to 'take down' the restaurant with their incendiary review...with little to no kitchen or business acumen under their own belt. Men with ties think they know enough to decide what's right for women's bodies.
Maybe this is a particular trigger for me because of this year. The epicenter of all the pain, hurt, and sadness of this year was our principal's office. At first glance, she is a tiny, cheerful grandmotherly figure who can charm the boots off any Southerner. Underneath, she has shown herself to be an open bigot and a careless communicator (terrible combination) who caustically ignores the ripples of pain left in the wake of her words. The worst part? She had scant elementary school experience. Our principal was a hail-Mary hire when our last principal quit unexpectedly over the summer. This new leader came with a decorated-enough C.V. and vast leadership experience to appease concerned parents...but it was largely in high school administration.
Since then, she's turned my personal and teaching life upside down with her pretend expertise.
Burgeoning careers have come to a screeching halt under her ruthless thumb. Months into this year, several teachers of color at our school found themselves either politically cornered by leadership or left hopelessly broken without any of the supports our school promised when we signed our contracts. This led quite a few faculty members to leave mid-year, and many more to make this our last year here at this school. Most heartbreakingly, several of these talented, dedicated educators have vowed to never return to schools altogether.
I myself have used this year as a catalyst to finally allow myself a sabbatical from the classroom. I'd been contemplating it for awhile, but if I hadn't experienced the particular hardships of this year, I would have stayed many more years with the brilliant students I've come to know and adore.
All of that to say, some people don't belong on a stage.
Some leaders shouldn't be in schools. Some bosses don't belong in their office. Toxic friends and colleagues shouldn't be taking up space in your circle. Some posers are pretending to be players in a show for which they were never even cast.
And they're ruining it for everyone.
So if you're attending a musical, a sports event, or a comedy act, and you think you can do it so much better, then do it. Put in the work, sharpen the talent you think you have, and just do it. On your own stage. Or keep your opinions to yourself. Either way, stop ruining the show with your inept commentary, because some of us are actually there to enjoy the show.
And if you're in a position of authority at your workplace, and you know deep down inside you're ruining it for everyone, get off the stage.
The rest of us have ideas we're dying to try.
