Missed Mic Drop Moment: How I See Chris Rock’s ‘Selective Outrage’ and its Contradictions
- The comedian is entitled to frame his narrative about why he didn’t fight back on his own terms. All victims are entitled to that. But …
I once paid $12 to see Chris Rock perform stand-up live.
I didn’t know he’d be there. Some South African friends came to visit me in NYC and wanted to see a live comedy show, so I took them to the Comedy Cellar. About an hour into the show, Rock bounded onto the stage, unannounced, to try out some new material. “Normally,” he told the audience, “you couldn’t even park to see me for $12!”
Watching Rock feel his way through not-fully-fleshed-out jokes was instructive. Even more than punch lines, he cared about rhythm. He underlined key points through repetition, like a preacher.
The half of him that wasn’t a preacher longed to be a professor. His monologues open with a thesis statement and then flesh it out with specific examples.
I’m well aware that Rock is first and foremost a comedian, but it’s precisely because he adopts the mantle of an educator (or at least a TED Talker) in his stage persona that it’s worth breaking down some of his rhetoric.
I won’t go over every single statement made by Rock in Saturday’s live Netflix special, “Chris Rock: Selective Outrage.” But a few parts struck me as not particularly in keeping with his reputation as a fearless truth-teller.
Take the moment ~38 minutes in when he wades into the abortion debate. “I have two beautiful daughters!” he proclaims. “So there’s a part of me that’s pro-life, ‘cause I’m definitely pro-their lives.”
Wait, what? “Pro-life” does not mean “I support people being alive.” Everyone supports that, hopefully.
“But since I love my daughters unconditionally,” he continues, “I want my daughters to live in a world where they have complete control of their bodies, and because of that, I am pro-choice.”
This sounds good until you process it. He thinks women should have complete control over their bodies because he has daughters? So, if he didn’t have daughters … he might not think that?? It took fathering daughters for him to see women as full human beings worthy of autonomy?
I could easily write several hundred more words deconstructing Rock’s premises in this manner. But space is limited, so let’s get to the meat of his Netflix special: His being struck by Will Smith at the 2022 Oscars ceremony.
Rock defers talking about the Smith incident until the final nine minutes of his special, but when he does get to it, he is admirably raw about admitting that he was hurt. He was hurt physically because Smith is larger and more muscular than him: “He played Muhammad Ali; I played Pookie in “New Jack City”! Even in animation … I’m a zebra, he’s a shark!” And he was hurt emotionally: “My whole life I have loved [Smith]! … I have rooted for Will Smith my whole life … and now, I watch “Emancipation” just to see him get whipped.”
As with his comments about abortion, he is embracing an old-fashioned patriarchal notion. Specifically … his words double down on the archaic idea that “being a man” means shutting up and not complaining when you are subjected to violence.
As someone who’s gone through my own experience with being publicly attacked, I will never begrudge Rock the right to frame the narrative the way he wants to frame it. But what I will begrudge him is his hypocrisy.
What do I mean by that? Rewind a few minutes, to the start of the segment where Rock addresses the controversy. “But I’m not a victim, baby!” he crows. “You will never see me on Oprah or Gayle, crying. Never gonna happen!” He adopts a high-pitched “crybaby” voice to imitate the kind of discourse he’s shaming: “I couldn’t believe it, and I love “Men in Black.” Then he resumes seriousness: “No. It’s never gonna happen. No, f— that s—, I took that hit like Pacquiao!”
Yes, he directly mocks the idea of presenting himself as a victim, and of saying that he was emotionally hurt because he used to admire Will Smith. Then, seconds later, he talks about how Smith victimized him and how that was especially cutting because he used to be a fan.
So why was it so important for Rock to pander to his audience by claiming that he wasn’t going to show vulnerability, right before he went ahead and did exactly that?
The clue is in the simile. Rock drew applause for comparing himself to Manny Pacquiao, a boxer.
One of my all-time favorite TV monologues was delivered by the “Masters of Sex” character Virginia Johnson (Lizzy Caplan) in an episode in which she watches a televised boxing match:
“There’s no shame in saying you’ve had enough, in stopping the fight if you’re hurt. That [losing boxer], if he had stayed down in the early rounds, what would they have said about him? That he’s a loser? Or that he’s human?
Maybe [boxing] is a noble sport. Maybe it’s all about character in a way a novice like me can’t understand. But I will tell you this: I don’t want my son to be a boxer. No. When he’s hurt, I don’t want him to act like he’s not. That is not a lesson he needs to learn. And I don’t think that’s what’s going to make him a man.”
Rock begs to differ. As with his comments about abortion, he is embracing an old-fashioned patriarchal notion. Specifically, even as his actions contradict it, his words double down on the archaic idea that “being a man” means shutting up and not complaining when you are subjected to violence.
He’s not the only one. I know firsthand how this cultural model of masculinity is routinely deployed against men of color when they complain about racial discrimination. Why didn’t you handle it yourself?, they are asked, with the implication being that shame should fall not on society for permitting discrimination and violence but on individual men for supposedly not being strong enough to prevent it all by their lonesome.
To quote Rock, f— that s—.
Rock concludes his special by justifying his lack of response to Smith: “You know what my parents taught me? Don’t fight in front of White people!” Then he literally drops the mic and receives a riotous ovation.
As I noted above, Rock is entitled to frame his narrative about why he didn’t fight back on his own terms. All victims are entitled to that.
But imagine if he had said, in front of all those people, “Why didn’t I fight back? Because I assumed that we live in a civil society, one where people who engage in unjustified aggression are held accountable by authorities, without the need for eye-for-an-eye jungle law. I waited for that accountability to occur, and when it didn’t, I felt like society considered me expendable. That made me sad, and it made me angry too. You should also feel sad and angry whenever violence is allowed to go unpunished. Especially when it happens to a woman or POC, and not just when it involves a celebrity.”
Then he could have dropped the mic, and I would have clapped like everyone else.
Yogesh Raut is a freelance blogger, podcaster, and writer who currently lives in Vancouver, WA. Born in New York City, he grew up in Springfield, IL, and is a graduate of the Illinois Mathematics and Science Academy, Stanford University, New York University, the University of Southern California School of Cinematic Arts, and the Washington State University Carson College of Business. He holds master’s degrees in psychology, cinema-television studies, and business administration. You can read his blog at https://harpo84.blogspot.com and hear his podcast at https://recreationalthinking.podomatic.com.