I confess that I am a recent convert.
Up until this point, satire to me was the blog “Stuff White People Like.” I would find posts about Yoga, Whole Foods, Knowing What’s Best for Poor People, Hating Ed Hardy and Wes Anderson movies endlessly funny. I also identified with my fellow yuppies: I understand the desire to move to Canada, because I grew up there (FTW). I was in on the joke, and got the point that Christian Lander (the blog’s founder) was making fun of me.
Indeed, this blog even included two other forms of satire that I am really into. I rejoiced when “The Colbert Report” and “The Onion” made the list (at 35 and 109, respectively) because not only was I in on the joke, but I was watching and reading others who got it too! Hooray for how pretentious we all can be.
I thought that the world was divided into classes of people. There were those who appreciate satire, and see it as a method whereby one indicts other groups indirectly, and those who, I thought, just don’t get it. Apparently, there are conservatives out there who take Colbert at face value. He voiced what they believed, with the sentiment: “Anybody who knows me knows that I am no fan of dictionaries or reference books. They’re elitist, constantly telling us what is or isn’t true, what did or didn’t happen.”
And it wasn’t after I saw satire used at Duke that my views changed. It wasn’t after Megan Weinand’s very relevant letter-to-the-editor on what Coming Out Day means to the LGBT community. She pointed out that satirizing the event leaves out women who are gay or allies by only mentioning fraternities (and thereby just men).
It was instead an interaction with a friend, and my subsequent conversation with Weinand, that has changed my view that satire is universally appropriate and effective.
Through those two conversations, I realized that this distinction exists and we must recognize it. From an outside perpective (or “as an outsider”), I thought that using the LGBT community as a satirical mechanism was kosher. But a friend in the community says he’s “just sick of being on the other end of satire.” And he asked, “Are you telling me that there are not other ways to make fun of a frat?” Indeed, generalizations and stereotypes about the community, which mention fairy wings and/or assless chaps, are entirely gratuitous. Some people really do hold these stereotypes about those they are not familiar with.
What is the purpose of satire? Danny Lewin, a former Monday, Monday columnist who is now out of the (anonymity) closet, says in an email that the underlying purpose of the style is “to make people laugh.” He continued, “And the awesome (or terrible, depending on how you look at it) aspect to that, is that you have no idea whether points are satirical or honest. Maybe the satire is trying to expose unenlightened views. Maybe it’s to get controversial topics out there and get people thinking while they’re laughing.”
I maintain that satire can be productive and thought provoking. However, Weinand says that often satire is used “at the expense of communities that have been historically marginalized and discriminated.” That these communities are offended is entirely understandeable. Making fun of MILFs is funny, because the satire can be laughably directed at its intended audience, and cougar-like activity is a choice. There’s even a Seinfeld episode in which Jerry’s dentist converts to Judaism in order to make what would otherwise had been very anti-semitic jokes. That creates an in-group grey area.
But being gay is not a choice.
There is the real risk that this type of satire can intimidate closeted people by highlighting the onerous aspects of coming out, even though they understand the broader value in satire. Indeed, Weinand says, “While there is a large amount of support from students, faculty, staff and numerous organizations on this campus, the social pressures that still exist for closeted students cannot be discounted.”
To my former two groups, those that have the intelligence to appreciate satire and those that don’t, I add a third: those who get satire, and still are not OK with it. That having been said, we’re not even at the point where everyone always gets the conceit. Thus, we risk further justifying homophobia at Duke.
To judge the success of satire, one calculation would be that it can get me discussing sexuality, and that’s a good end itself. Yet you don’t see bros writing in and saying, “I’m offended.” While Weinand is forced to declare, “I’m a lesbian,” as a part of her identity, she says that “Being in a frat isn’t your personhood, or so I would hope,” and that’s the difference.
I hope that we can stop using satire to indirectly but systemically target minority groups… there are so many other things at Duke to make fun of.
Samantha Lachman is a Trinity sophomore. Her column runs every other Thursday.
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