All Star Hater

Peace to the folk.

I think we should redefine the definition of “hate,” at least as it applies to one’s opinion. If I say Steph Curry is the greatest shooter ever, but also a liability on defense—that, without a prime Klay Thompson to protect him, he would’ve been exposed nightly—I’m simply offering an assessment. Now, outside of the language used, how is this hate, as culturally defined? I’ve called out truths (or what I perceive as truths), each of which can be fact-checked if one chooses: YouTube exists as a real, living encyclopedia.

Still, folk pick and choose the parts they like—Curry’s shooting—and label me a “hater” because they don’t like the other parts. How is one portion of my opinion okay but the rest not, when it’s all rooted in what I see as objectivity? That begs the question of what “objectivity” really is. Without Googling, asking Siri, or the new bully on the block, ChatGPT, I’d say objectivity means an unbiased view. From there, we have to trust that the person critiquing is objective as defined. Ironically, that view of objectivity is subjective, based on how the listener receives it. It’s a nasty weave; I’ll spare you the tangle.

As it relates to Curry, I am objective. I don’t know the man personally. By all accounts, he seems like a great person—a husband, father, humanitarian—just an all-around good human being. I would never speak ill of him as a person. Again, I don’t know him. In that way, he’s just like anyone else: I’m not in the habit of going around talking about people unsolicited. That ain’t my bag. If I’m asked, and I’m knowledgeable, I’ll opine. That all.

What I will do, though, is offer thought or my feelings about art—extensively, in fact, if it’s in me. We all do, can, and should. Art draws you in, invites emotion and expression, and ultimately, opinion. Some of these opinions might be brutal, but even that’s welcome. Pull up a seat. You don’t have to be crass to get a point across, but there are literally no rules. If something is made for public consumption, it’s also open to critique—filter be damned. Those who choose to make their art public know this; they welcome it. They aren’t the ones complaining—they know what it’s like to be in the arena.

As Theodore Roosevelt famously said in “The Man in the Arena” speech:

“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles... The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena.”

Tough skin runs that place, and letting it roll off your shoulder is the mantra. Or, in Jay-Z’s words (echoing Obama’s gesture, originally from Oakland’s own ethos): “Get that dirt off your shoulder.” Or, as the great orator Method Man once said: “…F a critic, he talk about it while I live it.”

If Curry’s just an artist displaying his craft on the highest stage, and we’re all witnesses to the purity of his art form, then commentary—whether glowing or critical—is fair game. It’s “beautiful” and “ugly” because all art is, depending on whose eyes are on it. How is any of that invalid? And how dare you say someone is “hating” just because they voiced an honest critique? Steph doesn’t care—why should you? Are you his guardian?

Again, I’m not speaking on his person, nor do I care to. Truth is, I wish I hadn’t used Steph as an example at all, because this isn’t about him specifically. It’s just that I’m in a ridiculous exchange with an obnoxious, one-sided Warriors fan—(is there any other type?)—whose feelings are on his sleeve because I reminded him that Warriors fans once screamed at management for choosing Curry over Monta Ellis. I’m from Oakland—I remember. Apparently, it’s still a sore subject. No apologies here. Go Lakers!

The point is, “hate” and its misguided usage. What do I hate? Tomatoes, tofu, bad energy, Lalah Hathaway bringing back Anita Baker’s “Angel”, and making me cry real tears. None of that is ever directed toward a person. I speak how I feel about something I feel—meaning if I don’t have some level of care for it, I won’t offer anything. That alone is a compliment. People generally don’t talk about things they don’t have some emotional attachment to.

Caring is often mistaken for something positive only, but caring can also be paying attention enough to make a valid point without bias. That’s where I dwell. I’m partial to, and have allegiance to, what I think is dope—based on the art itself. Sports? It’s art to me, just like music is art. Consider how people say, “Beyoncé is an amazing performer but overhyped vocally,” or “Kendrick Lamar is too abstract.” Is that hate? Or critique? The line’s razor-thin if you ask a superfan.

Still, there’s a place for “hate,” as the word is most often used, but that’s personal—I don’t give of myself in that way or make that kind of investment. I will offer observations that might provide perspective, and that’s different. Truth is, the “hater” cares the most. Why else would they give so much energy unless they were heavily invested? That’s scary to me—too personal, too emotional for something that’s ultimately just art.

So, let’s redefine “hate.” Having an opinion—especially a well-researched, objective one—is not hate. Calling out flaws in someone’s art form doesn’t equate to disparaging the person. It’s just critique. Real hate requires a deeper level of animosity, a personal grudge. Next time you hear someone say “you’re hating,” ask them if they actually mean “you’re criticizing” or “you’re observing.” Because there’s a difference. One is about growth, discourse, and perspective; the other is about tearing someone down.

Steph doesn’t need us policing opinions about his game—he’s in the arena, living his best life. We, the audience, get to watch, cheer, question, and yes, sometimes critique. That’s the deal art makes with those who consume it. Let’s not confuse genuine analysis with hate. And if you really want to see hate, it’s probably in a place you’d least expect—where people are more consumed by a subject than they’ll ever admit. One Love

-Smirk

#oldheadenergy