Have you ever felt elated at having achieved something truly wonderful, something you have worked towards for a very long time, only to brutally quash it in a momentary act of self-sabotage? The shocking and violent incident instigated by Will Smith when he struck Chris Rock for making a hurtful joke about his wife’s lack of hair during this year’s Oscars night, reminded me of the times when I too have sabotaged my admittedly much more modest but nonetheless meaningful personal victories.
Jada Pinkett Smith did not stand behind her husband after his misjudged attempt to defend her, and the incident failed to elicit a perhaps much-needed apology from Chris Rock. As an alopecia sufferer, Jada Pinkett Smith should not have had to endure a joke drawing attention to the hair loss caused by her disease. But, as we have unequivocally established in recent weeks, Will Smith certainly should not have slapped Chris Rock for making that joke either.
Self-sabotage
One of my own most punishing memories of self-sabotage concerns a weekend city break which my then partner, now husband, had organised for us as a surprise getaway. It was in the early years of our relationship, when the wound from my divorce was still open and raw. My partner had planned every detail meticulously, taking great care to create a feeling of extraordinariness. His only intention was to help me feel special and loved. Crushing rose petals while lying on a soft bed in a cosy hotel, I instigated a major argument between us, the essence of which, ironically but unsurprisingly, I can no longer even remember. I do remember, however, his dismay and sorrow at the unfortunate turn of events, the thought of which makes me choke on tears of regret even all these years later. What I did not understand in that moment of ruining the love of my life’s romantic gesture, was how little I thought I deserved it in the first place. My self-worth was so low that unconsciously I had decided that I was going to put a stop to this beautiful moment because it was not fair for me to feel special or happy. It simply wasn’t right.
Seeing Will Smith sabotage his biggest night (from a professional perspective), was heart-wrenching, especially in view of how much damage his momentary lapse of reason caused not only to himself, but to so many around him. The evening turned into one big moment of loss - loss of well-deserved attention for the Oscar winners and the Williams sisters; loss of the feeling of safety for Chris Rock and others in the room; loss of joy for all those present or watching the Oscars; loss of reputation for Will Smith and the Oscars Academy.
In his memoir, Smith frames his mega-successful career as one long apology to his mother for his childhood failure to defend her when his father was violent towards her. Smith has openly condemned his violent father yet tragically, on the biggest night of his career, when the limelight on him could not shine any brighter, Smith destroyed his triumph by becoming the very person he has spent his whole life defining his identity against - his father.
The shadow
There is a term in psychoanalysis which encapsulates our psychological struggles - the shadow. Each one of us carries their own shadow which consists of fragmented parts of ourselves that we dislike or hate outright and have therefore dissociated from, in the hope that by doing so they will cease to be part of who we are. Perhaps in Will Smith’s case, part of his shadow may be his own violent side which he so despised in his father. In my case, it was my feeling of inferiority, of being unlovable, that manifested in aggression.
The biggest challenge that our shadows present is their pernicious ability to take over our behaviour at the worst possible time and to keep doing so until we become conscious of and forgive the aspects that we hate about ourselves, inviting them back into the tent of our whole being. Only when we admit that our flaws exist does the shadow’s grip loosen, allowing us to navigate our behaviours in a healthier way.
However, integrating our shadow into our being is as hard as can be (as I am learning from experience) - a life’s work, many counsellors say. I have been lucky enough to have counselling which has helped me become more aware of some aspects of my shadow and accept that inside me there is a bully, a victim, a rescuer, a perpetrator, an adult, a child: “that I am in everything and everything is in me”, to quote the powerful words of Hazrat Inayat Khan. This awareness helps me reduce (although not eliminate) the times when my amygdala, that part of our brain that responds to threats, is highjacked by my shadow, resulting in impulsive and destructive behaviours. I have learned that I have to always make space for my shadow, to acknowledge its existence so that it does not need to erupt to make itself heard.
Forgiving
As a feminist and a passionate proponent of non-violent conflict resolution, I have tried hard to fully condemn Will Smith for his unacceptable violent outburst. Yet I cannot. I cannot because I think that there is a self-saboteur, a bully who can turn on others or on ourselves, a rescuer and a victim in us all. This could have happened to anyone. While Will Smith, who is showing great remorse for his action and has resigned from the Academy, is rightly being reprimanded for what he did, I would be very sad if his one action on that night turns out to have destroyed his career. If we deny a second chance to those who trip up on their shadow once, will we ever accept that we are all human? And if we are so unforgiving of our flawed nature, what chance do we have to ever heal?
