To be a woman is to be a punchline
Is that really what she said?
I have yet to see a male comedian who hasn’t made me uncomfortable.
Sure, I’m not the biggest stand-up fan but I’ve seen enough clips of Live at the Apollo, Netflix specials, and disheartening open mic nights — supporting the ubiquitous ex-boyfriend’s mate who’s ‘trying something new’ after a breakup — to have developed a solid grasp on the situation, which is this: Male comedians simply cannot resist using a woman as a punchline.
I wracked my brains for examples of comedians who were able to get by without the feminine gag: John Mulaney? Personal deficiencies aside, he’s a competent comedian until I remember feeling uncomfortable during his bit about chasing a woman through the subway, in which his punchline is the concept of a woman seeing him as a threat. Comedy gold. Jo Lycett? Arguably one of my favourite comedians, and his I couldn’t possibly kill another prostitute bit always breaks me but it also proves my point. Even outside of the comedy scene, we’re all familiar with Eddie Redmayne, Paul Mescal, Denzel Washington, and Graham Norton having a gigglefest over the idea of self-defense, only to be brought to task by an unapologetically blunt Saoirse Ronan - that’s what girls have to think about all the time.
Moving even further out of the comedy sphere – out even of the orbit of professional entertainment – misogynistic humour has permeated our very language. That’s what she said. That’s not what your girlfriend said last night. You’re mom’s so stupid, she got fired from a blow job (I googled your mother jokes and that was the third result).
Then there’s the crème de la crème of the patriarchal punchline: Blonde jokes. The ultimate triumph of double standards. It’s not enough for a society to preach blonde as the ultimate exclusionary beauty standard. It’s not enough to then equate that forced standard with a lower IQ. The patriarchy’s work isn’t finished until there is an entire genre of humour aimed at mocking the very women who pursue this inflicted ideal. Strike against a woman’s wallet and her confidence. Two birds, one stone.
The manufactured idea of the woman – the mother, the sister, the girlfriend, the ambiguous ‘she’ – is not designed to be taken seriously. It’s insidious, it’s pervasive, and it’s impossible to react against. Because if you react, then the joke is still on you.
B.
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