In modern comedy, stand-up comedy in particular, many argue there’s an implicit understanding that the content is not serious, it’s just a joke. This argument is almost always used in defense of jokes which are met with some degree of outrage. More recently, the argument continues on to assert comedy should be exempt from the repressive, too-sensitive, politically correct who try placing rigid limitations on a world that should be boundary-pushing, thought-provoking, and risky.
You know, like when a white guy makes a caricature of all servers in Chinatown and laments their English language skills. If this doesn’t ring any bells, feel free to give “Shane Gillis” and maybe “fired from SNL” a quick Google search.
The hole in this argument can be found in Ellen Degeneres’ 1994 comedy special, “Here and Now” when she says, “Those people who say something insulting and end it with ‘just kidding’ like that erases it somehow… You don’t know how to kid properly, because we should both be laughing.”
This, however, is taken out of context. Ellen is referring to everyday conversation. Years later, she held a conversation with Kevin Hart on her talk show, excused the homophobic jokes he made in his past, and entreated him to make a formal apology as requested by the higher-ups at the Academy Awards so he could reclaim his hosting job. Kevin’s argument was not the one just described, but that he had apologized in the past so he shouldn’t have to again, but the question still applies – What makes his joke about smashing a doll house on his son’s head and asserting the behavior to be gay any less insulting than the person who adds, “Just kidding”?
It’s as though contemporary comedy audiences are supposed to “suspend our belief” now. In the past, mainstream forms of entertainment asked us to suspend our disbelief in order to enjoy something like a fantasy novel or violent action movie. But our popular culture has taken strides to more “real” entertainment, therefore asking us to accept something “real” is exempt for real-world consequences. Reality TV has people doing horrible things to each other, but “it’s staged.” Pornography depicts more aggressive and less-consensual acts, but because it’s being recorded, it is somehow not actually happening, not “real.” Stand-up comedy is one person speaking amplified words, listened to by a silent crowd. Furthermore, with mainstream platforms like SNL or a Netflix special, there is an inherent difference between 5 minutes at a comedy club and recorded, widely-distributed sets. The latter has great power and it is where the argument of “but it’s comedy!” is being applied.
Apologies made by comedians in similar scenarios often mimic the function of the, “Just kidding!” There is almost always a tone of insincerity, of smugness. They reek of a grade-school student whose teacher forces them to apologize to the kid they were bullying, only so the teacher can say they did their job all while knowing the bullying will continue when they turn their back. It’s checking off a box, one that the offending comedian doesn’t think should exist in the first place. Again, Shane Gillis provides a perfect example. His Notes App screenshot (the current popular method of addressing a public scandal) read, “I apologize to anyone who was actually offended.” The subtext being, I’m not really sorry because I don’t really have anything to apologize for.
Just because someone feels like an outsider does not mean they are actually an outsider. Just because someone feels they are being repressed does not mean they are actually being repressed. Children have long asserted, “This is so unfair!” to protest punishment, but that doesn’t mean it is. Many people enter the world of stand-up comedy as a way to grapple with their perception of themselves as societal misfits or outcasts. But having a realistic understanding of one’s power is essential, otherwise punching-down jokes run rampant. And beyond these types of jokes — someone demeaning a group generally less-powerful than them — being offensive and reinforcing dangerous power dynamics, they’re just lazy.
In a recent LA Times interview, Sarah Silverman defended Dave Chappelle’s recent comedy by saying, “That’s comedy: You overstep. You say things you might not even believe by the time it comes out. You’re always changing. It’s art. It’s not politics.”
In the same interview, she later addresses opponents of her comedy who make memes of her on Twitter taking jokes out of context by warning, “People are going to get people killed.”
Besides the assumption that we should suspend our belief, what makes a racist meme any different from a racist joke? What is the difference between reinforcing any kind of xenophobic stereotype with a “Just kidding” and without one? Those who have often been the butt of jokes by more-privileged comedians are now being listened to, finding platforms which allow them to be eye-to-eye with the person on stage. Both parties now get a platform, and that’s scary to those who have always been accustomed to looking down on others. But it’s a necessary change. We should both be laughing.
the and times 