Wednesday, October 17, 2007

To Be Real or That's Not Funny!

ok. this piece is about my reluctance to participate in racial humor, where that comes from, why this is different, and how i can use radical laughter and the enlightenment that this discussion has brought me.

I generally have a really hard time dealing with satire, because I think that satirical pieces often fail at expressing their point (at all or effectively to the audience); satire can be overused or used as a crutch which can breed some really not self-aware/reflective/complex analysis; and it can often backfire, reinforcing what it claims to be resisting. But White Boy Shuffle was a very different experience for me. About one-third into the book I commented to one of roommates, "Generally I'm no good with satire. I just struggle with how it is received by its audience so much. But this book is different. Somehow I trust it and I trust where it's coming from and its analysis and I think I might get it." When H-A pressed me as to how, I couldn't articulate why. But reading Prof/Lex's comment that making the charicatures tight and complex as a strategy is helping me understand. I think, in a really simplistic way, I can use the stereotype/alternative litmus test to help me navigate. That is to say, when viewing racial humor/racial critique I can ask myself, "Can I get the stereotype without the alternative here? Are they inseparable? Is the alternative portrayed? If not, why not?"

I generally shy away from mainstream (and sometimes otherwise) race-based humor because I have a really hard time dealing with, listening to, and critiquing it. I am purposely choosing the words "race-based" here because I don't believe that it all constitutes race critique. I think that I am really uncomfortable with this type of humor because for the most part I do not trust that it is doing anything productive and i do not trust that (white) people are laughing for the right reasons or understand why they are laughing at all. I am speaking here primarily about mainstream comedians, sitcoms, etc. who use racial humor and seem to get away with it under the premise that it is somehow a sophisticated analysis or otherwise appropriate to say and that even though it often recreates racial stereotypes or charicatures it is some how not racist. (in the ways that media decide what is racist and what isnt. i.e barriers to accessing healthcare is not framed as racist, but the don imus comment is). In the past I have generally avoided this type of humor for several reasons 1) plainly, I often feel like racist jokes are racist and im not ok with that 2) I dont feel like I have the tools to accurately figure out when other types of racial humor are radical and when they are just dressed up racist jokes and 3) i have a really hard time trusting people's analysis and intentions with racial humor.

here again, this class discussion is helping me differentiate. its helping me move from a semi-comfortable cut & dry analysis to a more complex and REAL one (which is clearly much harder to navigate and articulate). we're being real, after all, right?

I' d like to speak specifically to radical laughter. I found Kameelah's quote really enlightening. She states, "My mom always says that 'sometimes we need to laugh to keep from crying’ which in a lot of ways speaks to this politics of radical laughter–the laughter that unconsciously moves us closer to the realities and pains we try to distance ourselves from. Radical laughter can bring us back to life. If we are speaking on the politics of life and death–we can think about radical laughter as a form of metaphorical resurrection whereby we have taken the opportunity to collectively self-reflect to the point where we can laugh at ourselves as the first step towards meaningful action." I really related to this idea, but from a different perspective. It made me confront the ways that I consistently and continually try to distance myself from reality and pain (my own and that of others) and it also gave me a way to deal with my pain and guilt--laugh. not in an uncritical or unaware way. but RECOGNIZE and NAME what is happening and then work to change it--in my own behavior as an oppressor, an ally, and as oppressed and in others. this helps me understand more tangibly why guilt isn't productive (which can be easy to know but hard to grasp or deal with) and what some ways to go beyond it are. That might not seem like a big revelation, but I've been stuck in a bad place for a while and this is helping me move forward.

Prof/Lex and Kameelah (consistently) leave me at a moment of "damn."

postscript: I cannot believe how many times in the last two weeks I have referenced this book, this discussion, these thoughts. I have been having many conversations about dyke humor and what it does to communities, how it affects me and what it means. I recently received a clip from youtube about lesbian phone sex where the operator turns the client on by talking about organizing protests and having potlucks. my dyke-identified friend who sent it thought it was hilarious. i didnt. dont get me wrong here--i think protests & potlucks are hot. but i also think that two not-totally-femme women can have really hot sex together. i also think that lesbian bed death stereotypes are really hurtful to me and can be to lesbian communities in general. and seeing this clip on youtube made me react really negatively. i felt like it was perpetuating the bed death stereotype to a general audience without demonstrating the alternative. here is how i initially responded:

i just watched the video and i didnt like it. i mean feel free to call me oversensitive here, but i really hate how representations of lesbian sex are always either 1) hot for straight men (or reduce lesbians to only sex) or 2) about bed death

i think there's an important place for self-mockery but i have a really hard time figuring out the line and trusting the politics of the source and the analysis of the audience (ie do they know why they are laughing?). i actually just wrote a response for my online class about similar ideas (when do racial charicatures radicalize and when do they reinforce/let-off-the-hook racial stereotypes?)

anyways, i think bed death stereotypes are really hurtful to lesbian communities. (check out this paper: i realize that this wasn't specifically about bed death, but do you see how its connecting for me? i think im also sensitive about it cuz i feel like i am simultaneously some of those stereotypes (and i like those parts of myself) and also not others (which i also like about myself). im sick of lesbians making fun of me because i like ani difranco, for instance. im also sick of people assuming that id rather go to a protest than have sex or that because ive been dating the same woman for 3 years and we are able to communicate the we must not have really hot sex all the time. and making that distinction isn't important to me an assimilative way. not in the "see lesbians are just like normal people--we have sex all the time" way. in the way that "why the fuck do you either oversexualize us or undersexualize us depending on your needs or depending on how femme we are?" way.

it all gets back to developing more complex and REAL analyses.

1 comment:

Kinohi Nishikawa said...

Thanks so much for this post, Lyndsey. Connecting your reading of WBS to the YouTube video is illuminating and draws together the complexities of race-/sex-/gender-based humor in our society.

I share your concern over such humor because I think there are so many opportunists out there whose aim isn't self-reflexive satire but rather caricatured parody. I happen to think Carlos Mencia is the worst offender here, but there are notable others -- William Hung, MAD TV, etc.

The key difference, it seems to me, is that there's something within race-/sex-/gender-based satire that gestures toward critique -- which for me means that one must interrogate one's own assumptions to "get" the joke. WBS is consistent in challenging our assumptions about blackness by situating Gunnar as a surfer dude transplant TO West L.A.; Dave Chappelle likes to curse under his breath when whites talk down to him in his skits; Margaret Cho toes the line between diva, whore, model minority, and bum. Note that all these comics and texts are decidedly *performative*.

I guess "appreciating" such satire comes down to, as you say, trusting where this person or book or show is coming from. And, perhaps counterintuitively, being able to trust a race-/sex-/gender-based joke seems linked to one's critical interrogation of the self: WHY am I laughing here? WHAT'S so funny, yet sad, about this situation?

Your post spurs me to further theorize why some of the very best race-/sex-/gender-based satire out there is, to my mind, best classified as "gallows humor" -- radical laughing, laughter mixed with tears, the tragicomedy of everyday life.