I love making jokes. Humor is an invaluable tool in life, helping to melt away suspicions, forge new friendships and inject otherwise arid conversations with brilliant flashes of energy. Without it, life would be incurably dull. And no matter which form it takes — light-hearted sarcasm, amusing accounts of past events, bread-and-butter formulaic jokes — humor never fails to brighten. The poet E.E. Cummings said it best: “The most wasted of all days is one without laughter.”
My belief in the importance of humor is why I peddle jokes practically every chance I get. Admittedly, they’re never good jokes — sometimes I’ll say “bless you” after a friend coughs because I think it’s hilariously ironic, or I’ll intersperse my text messages with hashtags in #random places — but nevertheless, I try to utilize humor often. Ever since fourth grade, when my killer walrus impression made John Preston Andy snort milk out his nose, I knew comedy had the power to bring profound happiness to others’ lives.
Lately, however, I’ve begun to ponder a question, which a younger version of myself would have deemed unthinkable: is it possible to take my fixation with humor too far? Do I use humor too often to shy away from uncomfortable situations at the expense of personal growth?
I started pondering these questions a few weeks ago after an episode in my social psychology class. My professor posed a simple question to the packed lecture hall — “What are ways in which we learn about others?” — and passed around a microphone to get our responses.
The question called for standard, clear-cut answers (“notice their clothes,” “observe their friends”) but I was feeling extra jocular that day. I decided I’d spice up the lecture with a witty comment. As I watched students pass the microphone through the packed lecture hall, I formulated a zinger. By the time it reached me, I was ready.
“You check them out on the ‘Gram,” I said into the microphone.
The class burst into laughter, and even my professor’s befuddled expression turned into a wide smile after someone explained to him that “the Gram” was teenage slang for Instagram.
Now, this episode is not an example of some harmful effect of humor — far from it. But it is an example of a tendency of mine — to dodge uncomfortable questions or situations with jokes.
Certainly, it’s human nature to deflect discomfort with humor, and it's not always a bad thing. Like I said, jokes can be helpful in this regard — diffusing tension, calming nerves, assuaging doubts. But humor can be a double-edged sword as well, making others think I’m not invested in their concerns and precluding me from engaging in challenging questions. I’ve noticed it can be the shield I hide behind to avoid the uncomfortable situations that would ultimately help me glean insight into new perspectives.
It can be seen in the time I deflected my friend’s complaint about the demographics of U.Va. with a well-meaning but ill-placed joke.
Or the time in class when my professors posed interesting questions designed to make us think, but I quipped something sarcastic to one of my friends.
Or the time at dinner when a complex political topic was brought to the table that I derided with a sardonic witticism.
There are too many instances to list where I’ve nipped challenging conversations in the bud with a joke. Perhaps many went unnoticed by me, now living only in the mind of some person I dispirited with an ill-advised one-liner. In these situations, I was presented chances to be supportive or stretch my mind by engaging in challenging discussions. Instead, my predisposition for wisecracking killed powerful conversations before they even started.
Now, don’t you dare think that I’m wholly discouraging humor, because I am absolutely not. I’m still the biggest goofball you’ll ever meet, one with a profound awareness of the life-giving properties of laughter. The joy it brings is in large part what makes life worth living, and humor’s power to pervade the human experience and unify disparate groups of people is the closest thing I know of to magic.
But as life-giving as humor is, I know there’s other things that make life worth living, too — namely, diving into uncomfortable conversations and gaining new outlooks. Though I’m still a clown, I’m a clown at attempting to straddle the line between the invigorating side of humor and the side that slams the door on challenging old beliefs, helping out friends or engaging in fascinating new discussions.
I’ll let you know how it goes. But in the meantime, if you cough and I say “bless you,” please laugh.
