Point - Counterpoint: Are Fat Jokes Okay?
Some people just can't take a joke. - by Susan J. Vernos
That's what it comes down to. There are those of us with a sense of humor, and those born without the ability to laugh at ourselves. Simply put, life is too short to dwell on such inconsequential things as comedians who make a bit of fun of themselves.
A comic's job is to make people laugh. Sometimes, that's done by making fun of the actions of another person (My husband is so mean...). Sometimes, the comic will make fun of herself in order to show that, hey, I don't take myself too seriously, and neither should you. Nothing I say on-stage is meant to be a personal attack upon you or any particular group.
People today read too much into the slightest innuendo, always looking for a reason to feel disenfranchised. We can't accept that, sometimes, things happen just because they happen. We place way too much emphasis on single segments of our lives, and insist the world is out to get us because we are (choose one) gay, not gay, black, white, Asian, Hispanic, disabled, or, of course, fat. Instead of accepting these traits or attributes about ourselves, and realizing that our differences can be funny to others, we fight the world and expect them to treat us with kid gloves because of whatever our particular difference happens to be. All this gains us are enemies, who look upon our whining with disdain.
When did Americans become so touchy about words? If I mention that I'm a plus-size woman and make mooing sounds, I'm obviously okay with myself. Why can't you be? You can't honestly believe that I think myself to be bovine, can you? Isn't it obvious that I'm simply drawing attention to the absurdity that plus is not sexy? No wonder satire is a dying art!
It isn't helpful to dwell on the size issue (or any other attribute) as an excuse for every situation. Instead of assuming that you didn't get the job because of your weight, why not consider that the person who succeeded was the one who was most qualified? Do you need to get more training or to update the skills you do have? Worse yet, did you come across in the interview as obsessed with your own size, so you missed that job opportunity because the company doesn't have time to baby you about your "issues"?
Speaking of issues, everybody has one, honey. If I make fun of how I can't keep a checkbook, does that mean I'm implying all women are idiots? What about when I poke fun at my father--does this mean I should be arrested for abuse of the elderly? Any situation that one person finds humorous, another can find offense in. Isn't it time to get past the "N" word, the "F" word and the bashing of all types, and move toward understanding and acceptance?
Comedy can sometimes shed just enough light on a subject that the audience sees for the first time how preposterous their stereotypes have become. Think of Archie Bunker. The world tuned in to follow the exploits of the world's biggest bigot, not because they agreed with him, but because they realized his points were absurd. Simply put, plus-size comedy advances the cause of size acceptance. When people leave the arena, they laugh not at the comedian, but at the silly way they used to think.
Now, before the fat lady sings (and you aren't going to enjoy it because I'm tone deaf), let me make perfectly clear that I understand that laughing at someone is not nice. I'm not suggesting that it's okay to demean someone in public - unless they are a heckler, in which case they get what they deserve. I'm asking the audience to laugh with me, not at me, and it's okay, because I'm in on the joke.
It's time to lighten up, and I don't mean your weight. Women bear too heavy a burden in society today, and we need humor to help us through. Sometimes, just putting on my pantyhose is enough to get me laughing. After all, this garment was not invented with my shape, and its many hiding places for nylon, in mind. Yes, sometimes my body can be downright hilarious, and I'm sure that people in the audience think so, too. I'm going to be a target due to my size, so why not beat them to the punch and get on with my job--taking people out of their own lives for a moment, and letting them laugh at the insecurity of others. It helps them feel more secure in themselves, and reminds other plus-size ladies that we are all in the same boat, so we might as well row together!
Don't Make Me Your Punch Line - by Deborah Hastings
I love to laugh. I love to go to comedy clubs. I hate fat jokes. When I go to a comedy club and hear a plus-size comedian tell fat jokes, my reaction is visceral. I get a tingling sensation in the back of my neck, my heart starts pounding and my head starts to buzz. When she makes mooing noises or refers to her breasts as udders, feelings of anger and betrayal overwhelm me. I want to scream, "How dare you?" and have to fight the urge to climb up on stage and rip the microphone out of her hands. Because when a plus-size comedian uses self-deprecating size-related humor, it's not personal - it's political.
As plus-size women, we have a tough row to hoe in this society. Stereotypes about us - we're stupid, we're lazy, we're unhealthy and we're unattractive - are so pervasive that they impact our education, our careers, our medical care and our relationships. Negative attitudes about people of size are so ingrained that preschoolers develop size prejudice before they exhibit any other kind of prejudice. There's an annual billion dollar diet industry in this country that perpetuates those stereotypes in order to improve their bottom line.
Stereotypes create innumerable hurdles for plus-size women, and the plus-size comedian who uses her weight as the punch lines for her jokes reinforces those stereotypes. She uses her stage to give her audience permission to treat us as second-class citizens. She's given them permission to point and laugh at the next fat person they see. She's given them tools of size-hatred to pass along to their children, who will in turn persecute the fat kid in class. She has, in effect, announced that it's open season on the plus-size community, and has welcomed everyone to take part in size-bashing.
I'm not saying that size should never be referred to in a humorous context, but rather that a plus-size comedian has a unique opportunity to educate her audience. She can use her size to her advantage, not by bowing to the lowest common denominator - the cheap fat joke - but by using sleight-of-hand. Bring the audience along with a size-related anecdote, and then smack them over the head with a stereotype-shattering punch line. In the years when Roseanne was still Roseanne Barr, she incorporated size-related humor into her stand-up routine, but it wasn't self-deprecating - it was empowering. She clearly conveyed to her audience that she didn't apologize for her size, and that plus-size women could snub their noses as those who would put us down.
If a plus-size comedian is going to plumb the depths of stereotypical size-related humor, she needs to do it in front of an exclusively plus-size audience. We can laugh at the stereotypes, because we know that's all they are - categorizations of convenience for the unenlightened. I've had the pleasure of being in audiences of plus-size women and listening to the routines of hilarious plus-size comics who knew they could push the envelope and use material they'd never utter in a mixed crowd. When the audience is exclusive, everyone knows it's an inside joke. When the audience is mixed, disparaging size-related humor becomes a form of verbal abuse against the plus-size community.
Verbal abuse is psychological oppression, and as a community, don't we face enough oppression without the contributions of one of our own? It's not that I ascribe malicious intent to the large comedian who reinforces stereotypes about our community; I attribute it to ignorance and self-loathing. But, while that may be an explanation, it's no excuse.
Years ago, every time I saw Louie Anderson walk through the curtains of some late night talk show, I'd cringe. I knew that, in a matter of minutes - sometimes seconds - he would launch into a diatribe of self-deprecating humor about his size. While I understood that he was clearly in pain about his weight, I nonetheless resented the fact that he was getting laughs by reinforcing stereotypes about people of size. And I couldn't help but wonder if, somewhere in the country, a chubby 16-year-old viewer was sticking her finger down her throat, willing to go to any lengths to avoid the laughter directed at Louie Anderson.
It's not that I don't have a sense of humor, or that I'm not a firm believer in the First Amendment. I love a good laugh, and I hold dearly our right to freedom of speech. I'm not a verbal vigilante. But plus-size comics who tell fat jokes give the audience permission to do the same. There's a de facto acknowledgement that it's okay to make fun of the fat girl, because, look, the fat girl is making fun of herself. From my perspective, comic genius comes in many forms, from the physical humor of Steve Martin to the acerbic political satire of Dennis Miller. It's not a sign of brilliance to regurgitate fat jokes.
Of course, not every plus-size comedian has to use her stage as a platform for spreading the gospel of size acceptance. But every plus-size comic has a responsibility to do no further harm to a community already challenged by prejudice and discrimination.
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