SUICIDE IS SHAMELESS
If balancing excessive narcissism, self-promotion, and an endless longing for death seems a little contradictory, that’s probably because it is. For a while now (until he blocked me), I've been following the travails of suicide influencer Joseph Awuah-Darko, who set up The Last Supper Project—a venture in which he visits the homes of various strangers around the world (both online and off), shares a meal with them, and documents it all on his Instagram, often with an accompanying write-up on Substack.
It’s been giving Arrested Development meets Tales From the Crypt, to slip into some modern parlance.
There’s the promise of a book yet to be published—and one suspects Darko might stick around a little longer if there’s promotion to do. Of course, promoting a book in the afterlife can be a little tricky, unless you have a good agent and publishing house behind you.
As of now, Darko has yet to land a deal for his memoirs, which will no doubt be written in the style of his hero, Anthony Bourdain. That makes sense, as according to Suzy Weiss of The Free Press, the TV chef “broke how a generation of men eat,” leaving behind a “cult of personality” that is “frankly insufferable.” Darko is definitely insufferable, but (to his credit) also compulsively fascinating—at least until he isn’t.
Weiss makes an astute point, though—we’re definitely living through the era of the Bourdain Bros: broken men enjoying food to fill the hole (not the one in their stomachs, but in their souls). And no one epitomises this trend to an unhealthy degree more than Darko. Last time I checked, there had been around 700 ‘last suppers’. Darko's almost had more last suppers than I've had hot dinners.
So where to begin with this Pandora’s box of expert grift, suicidal tendencies, and trauma bonding? Perhaps the easiest approach is to pitch the scenario like a movie or story: The Talented Mr. Ripley meets The Boy Who Cried Wolf meets “kindness porn” (his words).
The proverbial sword of Damocles hanging over Awuah-Darko is his stated intent to end his life—a promise that adds an undeniable frisson of excitement to his posts, as we (the morbidly fascinated observers) assess just how much closer he is to following through on his vow of self-termination.
There are, of course, many who follow Darko’s journey hoping his desire for euthanasia will be reversed, seeing the 'dinners' as a means to prove that life is worth fighting for—that death can be overcome through the power of social media.
It’s all very 2022, when the COVID pandemic tried to convince us we could heal the world through connection via our screens—all those Zoom choirs, etc. (cringes in emoji).
Sadly, much like COVID, this sickness—real or imagined—of Darko’s is morally troubling, especially as he appears to be making euthanasia some kind of casual lifestyle choice, as easy to choose as picking out wallpaper.
On reflection, perhaps calling Darko the Bonnie Blue of Suicide Influencers was a bit strong—and yet, after reading various articles and Reddit threads on his manipulation and exploitative approach to a delicate subject, I’m inclined to think it’s okay. I'm certainly not alone in my growing scepticism of the guy and his 'grift'. I can already see the Netflix documentary expose forming in my mind.
And of course—though it shouldn't need to be said—I'm not completely heartless; I empathise with anyone suffering from distress as a result of past traumas or inherent neurological disturbances.
However, make no mistake: suicide, in this social media format, is shameless.
Maud Effting