This is an honest question. One that many comedians and writers have likely been asking themselves for a while, at least the nice ones. We’ve got a history of comedy based on the primal truth that it feels good to be better than other people. Comedians use this fundamental truth to give their audience a common “enemy” or a common laugh at the “other.” It may be subtle or obvious, but it’s almost always there.
In this year’s Oscars, history was made when the Deaf community claimed the spotlight as equals, no- WINNERS, in a hearing world. This was huge! Yet, on the very same night, Chris Rock made a joke about the physical disease of Jada Pinkett Smith. The news is all about Will Smith’s response: slapping Chris Rock and yelling at him. There are LOTS of opinions about this dynamic. I’m not going to talk about that here. I think we need to dig deeper and ask ourselves the question I posed above. Can we laugh without being mean? Because if we can, then maybe we need a shift in our cultural understanding and execution of comedy. Maybe the question should not be whether someone crossed the line or not (and therefore whether someone’s behavior in response was appropriate), but instead: why do we need a line?
Can we laugh without being mean?
It’s easy to pick out the meanness or other-ing in comedy: jokes about men and women, vegans, gay people, people of different ethnicities and culture, the list goes on. Our culture draws the line on who gets to be picked on without pushback. Often comedians will ride that line to stay “interesting” or “controversial,” to stay in the cultural conversation. Not very long ago it was widely OK to laugh at the expense of gay people. Homophobic jokes were EVERYWHERE. Now, though they certainly are still widespread, it’s less common, and definitely less accepted. Take any general group of people or category and you will find a trope in comedy to match them.
I’m not an expert on the fine details or the deeper art of the craft of comedy. I don’t have any background in comedy, other than being on both sides of the joke. I do know that it never feels great being on the “other” side.
Not too long ago, Hannah Gadsby performed her show “Nanette,” which was sort of an anti-comedy comedy. It’s worth a watch if you haven’t seen it. She challenged the way we do comedy, the way she herself had been doing comedy. In an auto-biographical show, she shared that her comedy had been mostly putting herself on the other side for her audience to laugh at. She was throwing herself under the bus to get laughs. It worked, people loved to laugh at her, and she enjoyed their laughs just enough to shoulder the pain of the fact that they were laughing at her. In this show, she put her foot down, no more. She would not sacrifice herself on the altar of comedy. There’s a difference between having a lightness and humor about yourself and constantly belittling yourself and your pain to make other people happy or entertained. I suspect you know that feeling.
If you’re not yet convinced that our comedic culture revolves in some sense around being mean, please watch ANY roast. Yeah- remember those? The whole entire concept is that someone gives permission and pretends to enjoy being “roasted.” I cannot believe that a night after a roast does not end with that person feeling a little shitty, no matter how “tough” or “thick-skinned” they are. Even those phrases should make you wonder. The reason we like roasts? (I don’t, I find them very cringy.) It’s because like Hannah used to do for her audience, someone gives carte blanc for folks to use them as the butt of the joke. A willing sacrifice for our entertainment. It’s like the comedic gladiators. Are we not entertained? I’m not, it feels barbaric.
When our culture inevitably moves the bar of who is allowed to be made fun of, there are always those critics who don’t want to give up the mean joke. They use phrases like “PC police” or “don’t take yourself so seriously, can’t you take a joke?” and this classic: “If you can’t take it in, don’t dish it out.” These are all used by people who enjoyed being funny and entertaining at the expense of whoever our culture has decided is no longer fair game. They’re mad because they have to come up with new material, or worse- acknowledge that they were mean. And God forbid they have to apologize! “It wasn’t a bad thing back then!” I know we’re not perfect and we learn and grow and change and we can’t expect people to be all wise from birth, BUT if you’re being mean and it’s funny to you and others, it’s probably because you’re being a jerk. Our comedic formulas are basically instant jerk creators.
What if instead of constantly shifting the border between the groups we can make fun of or not, we change the paradigm of comedy? Can we laugh without being mean? I think it’s worth a shot. I find a lot of things hilarious that have nothing to do with making someone else feel bad or small. Can we reclaim the joy of laughter? Or must it all be cynical “I know better” types of laughs? I honestly want to know. Can I have a belly laugh that doesn’t hurt someone? I think it would feel more healing and joyful. What if when we leave a comedy show we all felt closer because none of us were separated for a joke? What if we can share the humor with anyone? It would take a lot of skill, but I think comedians are pretty smart and can rise to the task.
Can we laugh without being mean? I hope so.
