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On March 28th, Kanye West released his latest album Bully. The hype around the project has been relatively subdued, thanks in part to the constantly shifting release date, and the confounding bubble Ye has formed around himself. That hasn’t stopped people from tuning in. According to unofficial chart metrics provided by Chart Data, Bully was streamed 33.2 million times in its first day — but those were only “partial” numbers, per Ye’s distribution company Gamma. “Bully did close to 50 million in its first full day at Spotify,” the media company stated on Instagram, marking the biggest streaming day of any rapper of 2026 so far.
The project itself sounds like a typical Kanye West album, with theatrical soundscapes powered by chipmunk soul, and self-exculpatory lyrics that make you wonder where he is in life at this moment. “We don’t have to worry,” he sings on “ALL THE LOVE.” “And we don’t have to hold on/ To pain we left behind/ Wounds get healed with time.”
Ye initially addressed the “pain” and “wounds” he has contributed to, and experienced, via an apology ad he ran in The Wall Street Journal in January. In the ad, Ye specifically highlighted a four month-long bipolar manic episode he suffered in 2025.
“I lost touch with reality,” he wrote. “Things got worse the longer I ignored the problem.” In addition to apologizing for his actions, Ye shined a bright light on bipolar disorder, specifically type 1, which he attributes as the cause of his erratic behavior and offensive remarks. In light of his conveniently-timed renewed remorse, the same questions that have followed Kanye West for years have re-surfaced: Was the apology sincere? Or was it strategic?
Even among mental health experts, the answer isn’t obvious. “When I read it, I honestly felt sad about it,” says Dr. Bianca Jones, a Houston-based licensed psychologist who’s board certified in serious mental illness psychology. “It seemed sincere. It really spoke to what I see talking to people every day who have this condition and deal with bipolar disorder, [which] is that it can be so disruptive to their lives. I think that people can be really quick to dismiss the actions that occur when someone is having an episode as their true selves or how they really feel. But insight can be so limited during those times that the person is just not thinking or acting like their usual selves. And that typically is one of the core ways that we define bipolar disorder is the episodes take you so far away from who you typically are. I felt that he was really vulnerable in that apology.”
Others aren’t so convinced. Rebecca Blanton is a freelance writer and educator based in California, with a PhD in political psychology and a B.A. in psychology. They also live with bipolar type 1. “Bipolar doesn’t make you racist,” Blanton clarifies. “For me, it was kind of a cop out. We’ve seen this more and more, along with the stuff around the BAFTA outbursts of the guy with Tourette’s blaming bad behavior that is somewhat rooted in your psychological distress disorders, but trying to write away the harm that it’s done. That’s kind of what I saw the ad as… I didn’t see it as taking responsibility for the harm it’s caused to others.”
When it comes to how the public has chosen to engage with Ye’s behavior, including the ad, the chasm between empathy and skepticism is growing ever-wider. As some experts explain, the bigger issue may be our collective inability to be present for those with severe mental health conditions — especially those in the limelight. “Everything that you say and do in that high-profile type of setting, I don’t think we’re ever gonna be able to dissect if that’s just a natural consequence of being in the public eye so heavily, especially him,” Illinois-based Licensed Clinical Social Worker and mental health therapist Sara Macke maintains. “Who knows how long mental illness has been a factor? Who knows what his beliefs are versus what he’s utilizing at that moment for some type of publicity? I think it’s hard to separate all of those.”
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