People love to throw stones at me, and I get it. It's fun to make

In the forthright words of Wendy Williams, “People love to throw stones at me, and I get it. It’s fun to make fun of me, because I put myself out there. I’m a large personality, and I got the funny bone; I voice my opinion, and then people get upset,” we hear the eternal echo of the one who dares to stand in the open. Her voice carries the defiance of those who live not behind walls but upon the mountain’s edge, unguarded and unashamed. This is the cry of the truth-teller, the jester, and the warrior alike — all who know that to be seen is to invite both love and arrows.

For what Williams describes is not mere fame’s cruelty, but the ancient law of visibility: the brighter the flame, the more moths — and the more shadows it casts. To speak boldly is to challenge silence; to live loudly is to disturb the comfortable. She recognizes this truth without bitterness. “I get it,” she says — not in resignation, but in wisdom. For she knows that laughter, mockery, and scorn are the price the world demands from those who refuse to hide. The funny bone, which she claims proudly, is not her shield but her sword — for humor, like truth, disarms the attack by turning it into art.

Such has been the fate of the outspoken since the dawn of time. Recall Diogenes of Sinope, the philosopher who lived in a barrel and mocked kings. When Alexander the Great visited him, offering to grant any wish, Diogenes replied only, “Stand out of my sunlight.” The crowd laughed, the powerful seethed, but Diogenes remained free. He was ridiculed, scorned, and yet revered — for he spoke with a tongue unshackled by fear. Like Wendy Williams, he too “put himself out there,” and the stones thrown at him became monuments of legend. Those who live openly will always be targets; those who hide will always be forgotten.

The large personality, as Williams names it, is both a gift and a trial. To be large is to overflow one’s boundaries, to touch the nerves of others simply by existing. The timid shrink to comfort; the bold expand to truth. Such people draw the world’s gaze because they embody what others repress — the courage to speak, to laugh, to provoke. But the crowd, unready to face its own reflection, answers with scorn. Thus the ancients warned: “He who climbs high invites the storm.” Yet they also knew that it is from the mountaintop, not the valley, that one sees the sunrise.

There is also humility in her words — a knowing acceptance of the burden of expression. She does not curse those who mock her; she understands them. To be mocked is, in its way, to be seen. To provoke reaction is proof of life’s impact. The wise learn to let the stones fall and keep walking, for every stone hurled by the world is a piece of its attention — and the one who endures such storms grows only stronger. As the saying goes, “The tree that bears fruit is the one that is struck.”

Think of Joan of Arc, that fearless maiden who defied the armies of men with only her faith. She too was mocked, condemned, and burned — but her voice, silenced in fire, still speaks in the hearts of millions. Her story, like Wendy’s in her own realm, shows that those who bear conviction will always draw ire before they draw honor. The crowd laughs first, then listens, and finally learns. The arc of ridicule bends toward reverence when the spirit does not break.

So what wisdom can the listener draw from this? Be unafraid to be seen. If you are mocked, it means you have stirred the still air. If you are ridiculed, it means you have dared to be real. Speak your truth, not to please the crowd, but to unburden your soul. Let your laughter be your armor, and your honesty your blade. The world’s stones may bruise, but they cannot silence the one who finds joy in being wholly themselves.

Thus, Wendy Williams teaches not self-pity, but sovereignty. She laughs as she bleeds, she jokes as she endures, and in doing so, she claims her place among the eternal company of the outspoken. Her lesson to the generations is this: to live visibly is to live powerfully. Be large. Be loud. Be unashamed. Let the world throw its stones — and build your throne from them.