Opinion | As a Black actor, I still wish to be like Will Smith, but he sullied the Oscars and himself

It’s 2001. I’m 11 years old and having a great time with my mom and dad at a theatre in Mississauga. I don’t recall us doing too many things together when they were a couple, so this was special. It was a 9:30 p.m. showing and my sister wasn’t allowed to come, which gave me an extra boost of satisfaction.

My dad wasn’t what I would consider to be a “movie guy,” but he was excited to see this one. It was “Ali,” with Will Smith starring as Muhammad Ali. I, like many of us, watched “The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air” and “Men in Black,” but something felt different here. This was the first time I realized that an actor has the power to transform themselves.

My dad and I walked out of the theatre chanting “Ali Bomaye, Ali Bomaye.” Will Smith’s performance left me awestruck and inspired. I got to relish the re-enactment of Black history onscreen while sharing the experience with my family. I even remember exactly where we sat. I’ve marked that night as one that helped form my love of film, set me on a path to become an actor and cemented Will Smith’s status as one of my heroes.

Fast forward 21 years and Will is marching up to Chris Rock at Sunday’s Oscars ceremony. I was excited. I anticipated a welcome bit of good-natured spontaneity from two comedic titans amid a bland, structured award show — a fair expectation given Will’s playfulness at award shows in the past. But, like Chris and the rest of the world, I was slapped into disbelief. It was as if Ali himself struck the blow. After that point every speech was white noise and every win was rendered trivial.

Maybe those speeches are already trivial to you. But for me, the Oscars is more than watching privileged people with suspect political views prance around for a few hours. It is an opportunity to reflect on the artistic and technical aspects of the industry I have chosen to dedicate myself to. I can celebrate the movies I’ve loved and, if I assuage my cynicism, dream of being as great as many of the artists in that room. Sure, it can be tacky and self-serious, but I still have reverence for the Oscars — a reverence I can trace back to Will Smith’s influence. So it was hard to watch him sully the institution, and himself, in the process.

Last weekend, a man who implicitly taught me how to be jovial, generous, cool and strong exhibited a frightening level of anger, weakness and selfishness that falls far from the example he set for me and that “Ali” set for him. It was a poor decision. Like many other Black performers I still wish to be like Will Smith in many ways. The stories he’s told throughout his career have helped to mould my understanding of the world and myself. He also happens to be the only actor whose work has brought me to tears. Will Smith is human and he has apologized. But I would be remiss if I said I didn’t feel like the beautifully crafted image of him that has persisted in my mind since that day in 2001 is blemished.