The Safe Comedy Guide

‘When has stand-up comedy been kind to anyone? Comedy attacks.’

- Sam Kinison

I was asked by the comedian and Tea With Alice guest, Lisa Skye, if I’d like to be part of a Safety House guide she's putting together, to help people who want to come to shows at MICF, but are worried about being exposed to unpleasant or triggering material. The form that Lisa sent out had a bunch of questions, mainly aimed at determining what kind of material will be in each show, and my reactions were mixed. 

I haven't finished writing my show yet. How do I know that it won't have offensive material in it? I mean, I know I'm not likely to change my vibe completely and start making "take my fat wife" jokes, but how can I guarantee 'safety' for an audience. 

I mean, I can say I won't be trying to be offensive... or at least, if I'm offensive on purpose there's likely to be a 'good' point to the moment (a point I think is worth making, that in my subjective opinion is worth causing a vaguely quantifiable amount of offense). But there's no guarantee that I can bring that point across with unleavened success. Look, I make an effort in life to be thoughtful and kind. The process of making Comedy is inextricably tied to the compulsion I feel to bring joy to audiences. 

I AM safe, to a certain degree. Which is to say I’m not that 90’s dinosaur club-comedian who revels in stomping around in ugly jokes; jokes where disabilities are the punch-line; where the funny bit is the caricatured-accent of an immigrant taxi driver; jokes about how much I hate my frigid wife. I don’t like those jokes. I don’t do those jokes. That kind of comedy is not my jam.

So of course, when I was asked whether I’d like to apply to be part of Lisa's pamphlet, giving people who are wary of comedy that is brutal and cruel and snide an opportunity to avoid that in favour of ‘better’ stuff, I thought YES, THAT’S ME. But then I thought, wait a minute, is that me? On one hand, I do make that effort to be kind and thoughtful, (and, you know, original. The thing about the ”Asian guys are all..." jokes is that they tend to be pretty hacky and predictable).

On the other hand, my definition of joy is also in part, the process of thinking expansively, challenging dogmas and unpacking the logics of ‘felt reality’. I feel compelled to write comedy that unpacks personal and social assumptions. And the person I am, in the society I frequent, many of the assumptions I'm unpacking are those of the educated left. For example, how does it feel to find out that some bigoted right wing sphincter has given more money to dying children in hospitals than I ever have? For me, asking that question begins a fascinating and hilarious journey into my own discomfort, and perception of morality. For some people, the very question might be inherently offensive.

The idea that people are irredeemably evil if they stubbornly stick to a bad idea, or admire a bad person, or even say horrible things is upsetting to some audiences. Particularly when people feel like they're part of a marginalised group, they can feel as though their back is against the wall. The idea of 'us' and 'them' is an anchor to a feeling of security. Which goes some way towards explaining why the left save our bitterest vitriol for 'in-groupers' who step out of line. If that line is the only thing that holds back a vast and dangerous enemy, ceding ground to an opponent is the worst kind of betrayal.

Which is what I worry about, if I decide to be part of the Safety House 'guaranteed safe' group of 'safe' comedians. 

Also, what good comedian wants to be 'safe'? If we wanted to be safe, we would have become accountants, or stuck with lawyering. We're contrarians to a man (or woman). 

My friend and ETHOS director, the excellent and provocative comedian, Laura Davis talked over all these mixed feelings with me as I was writing this in the very early hours. The worry that we can’t guarantee ‘safety’ for any particular audience, and that however much she might try, what she feels comfortable talking about might be blasphemy to another. “The things I think come across as confident and playful might be arrogant, aggressive or pathetic from another person’s perspective.” And the greatest fear: “that I don’t have as much control over how people see my work as I want to feel I do.”

Many comedians are themselves offended, or at least unsettled by the idea of blanket bans on content or trigger warning requirements, not because they want to hurt vulnerable people, but because so many good insights can come from going beyond the line, saying the unsayable - exposing ridiculous ideas by quoting them and lighting them - from above, from below, from the inside. 

And what about quotation, ridicule, satire? Even if words are bullets, with the potential to wound, there is a big difference between a bullet that is fired at you out of a gun and a bullet that someone is holding out in their hand to show you. 

Asking comedy to reinforce your ethical certainties misses the point of a lot of comedy. While some art is comforting, other art is disconcerting. Sometimes it is both, in turn, depending on your mood and tolerance for provocation. 

So given that I believe all that, where do I stand? The idea of injuring an audience member is repugnant, but how can I guarantee that I won’t do it? Hurt is subjective, situational, personal. 

This fear is compounded by the current climate among my right-thinking left-leaning peers. I’m sure you’ve seen it. I imagine if you’re reading this pamphlet, you’re in much the same bubble as I am – where you have borne witness to irrational and vindictive point-scoring in the process of trying to make the world a better place. I know no comedian, bar the aggressively and deliberately offensive ones, who hasn’t had a moment of fear about the potential explosion of a badly chosen word, or a joke in the wrong place. 

Reputations can be trodden to mud by one bad joke, and one angry audience member. But how can you make your jokes proof against someone who is probing them for flaws? All jokes have a crack in them - that's how they work. They invite the audience in, to find it funny.

Jokes work as a kind of leap in the dark. They cannot explain themselves, or they lose the element of craft and joy, that brings the audience leaping into the moment. They can't be safe, because safety requires flawlessness, and predictability. That's like trying to tickle yourself. It doesn't really work if you know where the poke is coming from. 

So what I said to Lisa was this:

I can’t guarantee that my work won’t have a badly chosen word, or a joke in the wrong place. I can only guarantee my side of the bargain. Which is to say, I can guarantee goodwill and willingness to take criticism on board with kindness and concern (as long as it’s not in the form of a heckle mid-show, or a tweet-storm of rageful incitement afterwards, in which case fight or flight instinct might kick in. I won’t call anyone brutal names, though I reserve the right to call someone a rude butthole if they’re being a rude butthole.) Is that enough? 

I guess it’s for the audience to decide. 

I hope you have a great festival!