Censorship and the Bully

As of late my bedtime has been by 10pm or before. However, occasionally and more so in the past I’d been up way past that due to working a night closing shift at the market—or waiting for medical personnel who’d just finished up their twelve- or sixteen-hour shift at the hospital for session in my therapy office. Or perhaps waiting for one our children to arrive home from a function. If not out for a late-night run— I’d then be watching part of a late-night comedy show to wait or unwind before bed.

I’m only so familiar with late-night comedy; however, I think it’s a good thing. It has been an unadulterated sign of the times, true to form and the levity from it is healthy. Healthy in perhaps every way imaginable. I will say there are comedians of the past I couldn’t appreciate because I felt they were untrue, non-creative and too cruel. But that humor was quite some time ago. I’ll name one I didn’t care for, Don Rickles. I also didn’t like Rich Little. Although those two personalities didn’t have their own late night shows they still did their own form of comedy that they could make a good living at.

I also am not a fan of some of the Las Vegas Live acts of the past, even with some of my favorite comedians like Redd Foxx, Flip Wilson. My brother and I idolized Flip—to the point that when we grew up, we wanted to be like Flip. And I still love Flip Wilson’s gig, just not on the Strip. It was the raw cursing that some comedians brought to Las Vegas for a different crowd. What we’d call ‘more adult’ humor. Which to me was crass, yet I knew how great both Redd Foxx and Flip Wilson were as comedians. I also enjoyed Geroge Carlin; however, there were times George Carlin brought anger too often into his schtick. However, like Redd and Flip, I still think he was creative, and I enjoyed the many times he’d pulled off great gigs.

Upon my brother’s death nearly 20 years ago, my cousins could still remember my brother and I walking around my being Flip and my brother being Geraldine. My now deceased husband enjoyed me at times walking and talking like Damon Wayans’ parts he’d play in the Wayans’ brother’s show, “In Living Color”. Or saying something so raw privately at home quite Carlin’ish, that he’d howl and then say, “Tell us how you really feel Jody.” We’d laugh. I knew when to say things that would be considered cruel and when not to. Who to say it about and who not to. It’s a tricky thing. You have to be detailed, perhaps to the point of neurosis.

I’ve done speeches over the years on varied subjects. Usually, I throw humor in most of the speeches I’d done. And I usually made fun of myself. For me, that’s easy to do. Poking fun at myself, be self-deprecating its part of my schtick. To the point my fight coach, in late 2013 said, “You know what the fight world thinks about you?” I smirked, “Yeah? What’s that?” He replied, “You’re a goofball.” I nearly laughed, then asked, “Is that a good thing?”  He nodded, “Yeah.” I volleyed back, “Good.” And then I giggled.

Anywhere I am, I find humor in some fashion. It is the way my mind has worked. I’ve actually giggled while fighting in a cage. Why? Because I thought of something funny in the circumstances I was in. I’ve had humor during a kidnapping, as I had been raped and was about to be murdered. I still thought something was funny, yet refrained in saying anything, so that my death wouldn’t come sooner rather than later. I remember telling a detective this many years later as she was in her eighties, and as she knew the case well.

Comedy is what brings us out of our most desperate times and thoughts. Someone once said, “To make good humor, you need to understand cruelty.” I concur.  I concur because I’ve watched bullies in action within my family growing up and in public schools. I have not forgotten, and yes there’s a grudge here. I am jaded to a small degree towards those bullies, yet I’ve directed my aim towards being observant, listening, caring for others and having sensitivity to others regardless of any culture. But there comes a point when I drop that sensitivity towards them when racism or any form of bigotry come from them. When those who would bully unjustly because they ‘hate their opponents’. Good people don’t hate their opponents. In contrast, they see them as good competition that enriches themselves and society.

The bully is the one who is insecure and cannot tolerate any form of self-deprecation—neither can they swallow their pride, nor admit wrong-doing. And let me tell you the truth that bullies don’t want you to know, ‘hurt people don’t hurt people.’ I’ve been the ‘hurt’ person plenty. For years as I was in middle school, the bullies in a town where we’d moved to in the beginning of my sixth-grade year picked on me for three years at minimum. My saving grace was my high school years. The high school we’d attended was a regional high school; the good kids outnumbered the bullies. What many hadn’t known was my mother was quite ill, not just physically, yet mentally. My dad, a bully. He was an alcoholic and a drug addict. A lot of people didn’t know that either. So, I went from one hell to another from sixth grade through eighth grade. Eventually in high school long distance running was my saving grace, along with some classes throughout my high school years. Yet, I still had to look over my shoulder. I’d remained that way.

Bullies usually do not come from being the victim. No, they often play the victim.  Rapists play the victim well.

My dad who was a bully would say to me, when he’d known I was picked on in school, and in town, “If you broke the bully’s nose, they’d stop.” I refrained from doing so, even though I knew physically I had it in me. Size wise I was never a big person, definitely not a big child; however, I did think big. I would be the ‘bigger’ person and not name call, and 98% of the time I wouldn’t answer back with violence. When I had, it was because I needed to defend myself and then yes, I’d win. I’d won in the woods, exhausting a 260-pound man with my 102-pound humorous body.

When you break a person’s nose, they are supposed to become embarrassed, and intimidated. However, in my sparring with men in an all men’s fight gym much later in life and having my nose broken a few times, I felt good about it. Reason being was, I kept fighting till I was ordered to stop. I was and am always proud of hanging in there and it wasn’t bullying. I enjoyed fighting, and I miss it. It never intimidated me, I didn’t feel embarrassed. I felt good about myself. An insecure person who’s a bully doesn’t get to feel that way, they choose otherwise. They are thin-skinned. Words bother the bully. They need to control everything and when they can’t they become a tyrant. And they wield their axe at anyone they can for any reason. A bully needs to be taken down. Using their own ignorance and bigotry against them in a comedic, satirical way is one way to deter negative actions from other bullies. We the People need to control the narrative and allow the shunning of bullies and comedy is a great way of doing so.---Jody-Lynn Reicher