A week ago, ignoring Kanye West’s run for president of the United States seemed like the most logical response. It seemed impossible that West’s campaign would actually make it on to the ballot for the November 3 presidential election given that he’s missed FEC filing deadlines in several states. But last week, West qualified for the ballot in Oklahoma, even after his own staff conveyed he was out of the running.
That may seem like the story here, but it’s not. The real story is that Kanye West is using his apparent presidential bid to platform the misogynoir and anti-Blackness he's displayed in the past. These problematic statements have come amid concerning behavior that many close to him have expressed worry about.
In recent years, the rapper has been open about his diagnosis with bipolar disorder. Kanye spoke about treatment for his illness on the Netflix show “My Next Guest Needs No Introduction With David Letterman,” in an episode that aired in May 2019. In April, Kim Kardashian West, Kanye’s wife, said that the rapper had grown to accept his diagnosis. “It is an emotional process, for sure. Right now everything is really calm. But we can definitely feel episodes coming, and we know how to handle them,” she told Vogue. On Wednesday, she released a statement asking for “compassion and empathy” for Kanye right now.
On Sunday, Kanye held his first campaign rally near Charleston, South Carolina, at the Exquis Event Center. Kanye spoke on issues like abortion, health care, guns, and voting.
The comments that caused some of the deepest frustration with the rapper were when he criticized the freedom fighter Harriet Tubman, saying she “never actually freed the slaves, she just had them work for other white people."
Besides just being incorrect, Kanye’s words were blatantly disrespectful of one of the most important people, Black or otherwise, to have ever lived. Those comments reflect West’s deep-seated issues with misogynoir and anti-Blackness. They also echo a common phenomenon in Black communities where cisgender Black men disregard the experiences of Black women and femmes. Meanwhile, Black women are disproportionately affected by the intersections of racism and sexism. When prominent Black men like Kanye degrade Black women in these ways, they only reproduce the status quo, which makes Black women’s lives harder.
Over the years, Kanye has been held accountable for his comments to varying degrees. For example, in October 2019, comedian and Daily Show host Trevor Noah found Kanye's suggestion that Black people have been “brainwashed” into voting for Democrats so off-base that he responded by saying, “You know who doesn’t mess around with their votes in America? Black women.”
During these past few days, we’ve witnessed people struggling with how to respond to Kanye’s public displays. Some have resorted to all-out ableism, calling him “unstable,” referring to his behavior as “bizarre,” and his statements as “cr*zy.” All of these terms, especially the last, reflect a propensity to demonize and stigmatize mentally disabled people. Whether used colloquially or not, such terms hurt people with mental illness.
But others have responded with more compassion. Singer Halsey posted on Twitter, “No jokes right now. I have dedicated my career to offering education and insight about bipolar disorder and I’m so disturbed by what I’m seeing. Personal opinions about someone aside, a manic episode isnt [sic] a joke. If you can’t offer understanding or sympathy, offer your silence.” As Nylah Burton wrote, “Having a ‘laugh’ about how he expresses himself still perpetuates ableism, even while West is incredibly wealthy and famous. And ableism affects people with much less privilege than him.”
But how do we witness Kanye West’s very public struggle with bipolar disorder without turning his mental health into spectacle? How do we care for Kanye West while holding him accountable? The truth is, these are hard questions to answer.
When Kanye says terrible things about our heroes and about Black people in general, those comments hurt, especially for Black women. We have to be clear, though, that racism, bigotry, misogynoir, and other hateful language are not related to mental illness. These ideas and beliefs are rooted in personal commitments that exist outside of mental conditions. People who express them should be held accountable for such actions. Conversely, those who are living with mental health conditions should be supported in their communities and close circles, especially when they experience episodes. It’s necessary to hold space for both accountability and care, even if they feel like contradictory forces.
I’m neurodiverse. Like Kanye, I was diagnosed later in life. I struggled throughout my teens and twenties, feeling a disconnect between my brain and body. At times, I wasn’t totally in control. And when I tried to articulate my experiences to neurotypical people, I was often called “cr*zy” or “dramatic,” or accused of attention-seeking. The hardest times were when those closest to me seemed to see me in my moments of deep depression and inner conflict, but they had little experience or tools with which to support me. As a Black queer woman, there were always expectations that I put on a performance of “normal,” despite my mental condition. When my insides felt completely undone, shattered, and strewn about, I was socialized to still look like I had it together. All my life, the phrase “I don’t look like my struggle” has seemed to be about Black women like me.
For me, it’s a struggle to continue to hold space for Kanye even as I do it. As he continues to misconstrue the critical contributions to history made by Black women, many others have said that they no longer have the bandwidth to concern themselves with the conditions facing Kanye West. It is complicated, but it is an authentic position nonetheless.
For many of us, we understand deeply that if Kanye were a Black woman, his criticisms would be much harsher and his career in a much graver state. We rarely receive the same grace. What’s worse, we’re expected to be superhuman despite the obstacles we face. As Ashleigh Shackelford explained, “We are always denied humanity. In a world where Black women, femmes, and girls are denied love, access, support, resources, safety or protection, we are always set up to fail. And subsequently punished when we can’t perform mental wellness for the world to be inspired by.”
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Hopefully, Black men will step up to support and cover Kanye now as he works through this moment. Given that he has access to financial and educational resources, he should be able to learn more about Tubman, Blackness, and the various issues he’s commented on in recent weeks.
If nothing else, Kanye’s campaign for president shows us that we shouldn’t just ignore him. We should be talking about how many Black men hold troubling ideas about Black women that frequently put our lives in danger. We should be talking about how mental illness is too often conflated with racism, misogyny, and other forms of oppression, and how that stereotypes people with mental illness while releasing people who uphold oppression from true accountability. And finally, we should be talking about how critical it is that, even for people we don’t know, we still need to create space to be broken, imperfect, and mentally undone.
We should be talking about the fullness of Blackness with intention and grace right now.
In her statement, released on Instagram on July 22, Kardashian West wrote, “We as a society talk about giving grace to the issue of mental health as a whole, however we should also give it to the individuals who are living with it in times when they need it the most," Kim closed the post with, "I kindly ask that the media and public give us the compassion and empathy that is needed so that we can get through this. Thank you for those who have expressed concern for Kanye's well-being and for your understanding."
This is a both/and moment: More than anything else, we must both recognize the complex nature of mental health in Black communities and in society at-large. We must also protect those who are most vulnerable to harm. That’s what this moment requires.
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