When Protection Becomes a Distraction: Rethinking What It Means to Protect Those We Love
Many of us grew up believing that loving someone means protecting them. And while that’s true, what protection looks like can vary greatly from person to person. How we protect a spouse might look different from how we protect a child or a friend. For some of us, protection means if someone hurts someone we love, we hurt them back. In our effort to stop the pain our loved one is feeling, we sometimes turn our attention toward the person who caused the harm—and respond in kind or worse.
But how does that truly care for the one we love? Without realizing it, our response can become more about how we feel than about the person who was hurt. Our discomfort, our anger, our need for justice takes center stage. But what if, instead of focusing on the person who caused the pain, we turned toward the one who is in pain—and stayed there with them, fully present?
A well-known example of this dynamic played out publicly when Will Smith slapped Chris Rock in response to a joke made about his wife, Jada Pinkett Smith. The whole world seemed to witness that moment—either live or in the flood of coverage afterward. Many could understand why Will was angry. Anger is a valid response to someone you care about being disrespected. But in that moment, Will’s anger toward Chris seemed to overshadow his compassion for his wife.
To be clear, I’m not here to debate the specifics of that incident—I only want to highlight something that reflects what many of us might feel compelled to do. The trouble is, in moments like that, attention shifts. Everyone rushed to comfort Will, even Jada. And the topic became about what Will did instead of what Jada experienced. But what if it had played out differently? What if, in that moment, Will had turned to Jada, held her hand, and said, “I’m so sorry. That was hurtful. You are not alone—I’m right here. We’ll handle the rest later, but right now, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” They could have even stood up and walked out together and let Chris face the repercussions of the Academy Awards.
Wouldn’t that be a deeper form of protection, giving Will the peace of knowing his wife was cared for instead of the guilt and shame that came with his reaction?
Will Smith is not alone, so often, we believe we are showing love by standing up or lashing out on someone’s behalf. But in doing so, we may accidentally re-victimize the one we’re trying to defend. Our outbursts can be frightening to children or loved ones. We may escalate a situation and get ourselves into trouble. Or we may normalize unhealthy, even violent behavior that leaves a lasting impression. Instead of healing, we risk creating more harm.
Again, this is not to say we should be indifferent to someone’s pain. Anger is natural and sometimes necessary. But we must remember to care for the hurt before reacting to the cause of the hurt. It’s not about what we need to do to feel better—it’s about what they need to feel safe, seen, and supported. And to not make the moment about anything else.
I remember when I was a young girl in elementary school, and a boy punched me, giving me a black eye. My father, who lived far away, was ready to jump in the car and show up at my school. Even now, I giggle at how protective he was. My mom, on the other hand, was calm and steady. She assured my dad that I had the tools I needed to face the next day. Then she sat down with me and talked me through my options—not by telling me what to do, but by asking me what I thought my choices were. She helped me think through the possible outcomes and told me she trusted me to make the best decision. And she promised to be there with me if I needed her. That moment stuck with me.
I didn’t feel like a victim. I felt seen, supported, and believed in. My parents protected me from harm—and also from their own impulse to overreact. I learned valuable problem-solving skills, and though I was scared, I learned to face things while scared. My dad, who has since passed, came to trust that I was strong and could come to him without fear of him losing control. That trust was a gift, and I think it gave him peace in the long run.
In the end, real protection doesn’t always roar. Sometimes, it whispers, “I’m right here.” Sometimes, it looks like holding space instead of throwing punches. The deepest form of love isn’t about making someone pay for hurting the people we care about—it’s about showing up in the pain, staying present, and making sure our loved ones never feel alone in it.
Remember, you got this!
-Dr. Jennie
© 2025 Dr. Jennie. All Rights Reserved.
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