At the start of my collegiate writing career I experienced one of my then most exciting comedy breakthroughs — an opportunity to write The Ledge, a weekly joke column for my school newspaper, The Daily Iowan. Being offered this chance to deliver to the masses a social comedic commentary that would truly influence lives (!!!) was like being offered Saturday Night Live directly by Lorne Michaels himself. It was something I never imagined I would get to do, but there I was, doing it —as a sophomore, no less. (I would like the record to reflect that I am now able to see that my sights were not set high enough.)
The previous week Michael Moller, a DI colleague of mine, wrote a Ledge titled, "Sexual Things Women Don't know About Men." It was funny, if generic, and having grown up with four brothers, I got the jokes. What I didn't get at the time was that for many college boys, that bulleted list wasn't a joke like I saw it — a list highlighting the "funny" things that used to be true, things that are so ridiculous that they're clearly a joke. No, Michael's list for many guys (at least at the University of Iowa, and continues to prove elsewhere) was the Truth List, funny because it belittled their female peers.
On one end of the scale, the column read, "Every guy has measured his penis..." (laugh-worthy, sure) and on the other side of the jaw-dropping chuckle fest, "If they have an STD, they will not tell you" (a pretty blatant violation of sexual trust).
But, hey, it was a joke. I love jokes. Still do. And, I am absolutely positive all those gals with HPV have been laughing nonstop about this one.
So, I decided to write a "Come-back" column. At the time I thought I was on the cusp of some major Men are From Mars, Women are From Venus precipice, ready to discover something truly original in what I now know is a never ending conversation about gender roles that I hate. I was young. I didn't know!
I wrote my list, my hilarious, insightful, indignant and violently hyperbolic list: "Things Men Should Know About Women." I proclaimed things like, "We all are smarter than you, wherever you went to
school and whatever your GPA is." God, I was good. I played with words like Seshat would, spilling my outspoken female psyche onto giggling co-eds. "We’ve got feminine wiles. Did anyone ever hear of male wiles? No." And, they didn't, and don't.
I was a brilliant mastermind falling right into a clichéd collegiate squabble. But, hey it was a joke! I did it for the laughs! I only wish I knew that it wasn't some dumb playground back-and-forth. I wish I knew that this conversation, these sorts of "men do this, and women do that," ping-pong competitions, jokes or not, are so, so dumb.
Shortly after my list was published I received a melee of hate mail, or rather hate from males. I was harassed on Facebook. I was harassed over email. No one ever harassed me to my face because, God, there's something so...what's the word, oh, EMPOWERING, about attacking people through the thick vat that is the Internet.
I got messages from an idiot named Eric (can't remember his last name) telling me in no uncertain terms that due to my lack of sexual prowess he could "guarantee" that "no guy had ever bought [me] a drink in a bar." Oh, man. Stinger. Like the class-act I've always been I wrote a bunch of trite sassy responses, none of which I actually sent him, instead opting for the high road. I informed him that "I'm a person," and he had offended me. Obviously, it only made sense to thank him for reading my column. The honor to have him as reader. I was so, so blessed with his presence.
But, the most malicious response came in the form of a terribly crafted email written by a University of Iowa football player, Jovon. I only shared his email with a few people, including my boyfriend at the time, Brian, and my two roommates, both named Elizabeth.
Then that was it. I don't think I ever responded to Jovon. He hurt me more than I even knew then. I don't remember the whole email, and I've long since deleted it, hoping that with a quick hit of the button I'd never think about him calling me a "beat ass chicken head," among other things again. But, I do. It's been eight years of randomly remembering Jovon's hateful words. I remember thinking that receiving hate mail was part of what being a journalist was. I remember Brian telling me that Jovon's email was garbage. I remember him telling me he loved me, and he would definitely buy me a drink in a bar. I remember laughing about it with my friends, and I remember crying about it alone.
The Elizabeth's encouraged me to forward the emails to my editor, as did Brian. But, I thought having a brave face, ignoring this incessant gender warring faction, was the way to really prove I was an equal sex. I don't know if I was right to ignore the advice of my peers, opting to "not be a tattle-tale." But I will say now, I wish I spoke up, rather than becoming silenced. What I didn't realize then was that I wasn't just being attacked for being a jokester of a female, I was being attacked for daring to joke about gender inequality, daring to just kid around about women being superior to men, about not wanting to get into the kitchen to make a sandwich, etc. Joking. I don't believe women are superior, nor do I believe men are, but plenty of men do think they are — and even kidding that it could be the other way around was too much for some male counterparts, then and clearly still, now.
Since then I have grown as a comic, as an improviser, as an actor, as a writer. That experience long ago sticks with me, and there have been others since then, too, perhaps not as sticky in my mind, but they are there.
I've made jokes about males. I've made jokes about females. I've delivered stand-up about how people don't say what they want. I've delivered stand-up about my fears that saying what I want will make me look like a weak little girl. I try to tackle the things that matter to me, whether it's through comedy, writing or just regular conversation with friends. And still, I find myself self-censoring because sometimes I am still scared of rocking the boat, of offending, of saying something or doing something that will make someone not just write me mean things or prank call me spewing hate, but really hurt me.
There is nothing worse for a person's soul then to feel like they have to hide who they are because of the fear of what someone could do to them.
I don't want this for my fellow peers, male or female.
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