If you’re going to say something racist, it better be funny. Last week’s downfall of radio legend Don Imus underscores an odd development in recent pop culture: A racial statement which is normally offensive is not so bad when it’s funny.
On his show two weeks ago, during a casual exchange with his producer, Imus called the women’s basketball team at Rutgers University “”some nappy-headed hos.”” The remark outraged the black community, which led to condemnation, protests and firing of Imus. After three decades on the air, “”Imus in the Morning”” died because of a stupid joke.
Seemingly far more offensive things have been said on television in recent months, but they had almost no negative consequences because they were funny.
The “”n-word,”” doubtlessly America’s most explosive racial epithet, has a single unwritten rule: If you’re not black, you can’t say it. Period.
Case in point: Michael Richards. The comedian who played Kramer on “”Seinfeld,”” shouted the forbidden word several times during a stand-up comedy performance in November as he tried to salvage the show from hecklers.
Richards, who is white, was not funny. The black community and America at large took offense to the use of the hated word. Ultimately, Richards lost what was left of his career, and he won’t be able to find work for a long time.
Consider an alternative: “”With Apologies to Jesse Jackson,”” the first episode of South Park this season. In it, non-black characters hurl the n-word 42 times. There were no complaints, no protests, no firings and no apologies. CNN took to the streets to ask black pedestrians what they thought of the episode, and they said they had no problems with it.
What’s the difference? When Richards said the word, it wasn’t funny. When South Park characters said it, it was extremely funny.
The causal relationship between humor and offense is unclear. Is it that humor causes the racial language to lose its offensiveness? Or is it that a racial joke is only funny if it was never offensive in the first place? There’s no way to be sure.
But while the causation remains a mystery, the correlation is unmistakable.
Take Stephen Colbert, the mock Bill O’Reilly who hosts a news-satire show on Comedy Central. On at least three occasions, Colbert has broadcast a clip of himself, allegedly unaware that he’s on camera, performing a grossly offensive impersonation of a stereotypical Chinese man.
In the clip, with a mock Asian accent and narrowed eyes, Colbert tells an assistant, “”I ruv [sic] tea! Is so good for you! You so pretty American girl. You come here. You kiss my tea make it all sweet. I no need no sugar when you around.”” Colbert then imitates the chord of stereotypical Asian music.
There have been no repercussions.
Under any other circumstances, a TV personality who performed an impression of such an offensive racial stereotype would get smacked in the face with a pink slip. Colbert’s impersonation, however, was hilarious. A Google search found two angry blog reports about the incident on the Web site “”Asian Media Watch,”” but the complaints stopped there. People were too busy laughing to be offended.
Rosie O’Donnell dipped into some hot water over a similar impersonation of an Asian stereotype. In December, when she reported the worldwide awe at Danny DeVito’s drunken appearance on “”The View,”” she attempted to impersonate a Chinese news anchor. Unable to speak Chinese, her anchor imitation said, “”Ching chong. Danny DeVito, ching chong, chong, chong, chong. Drunk. ‘The View.’ Ching chong.””
O’Donnell and her bosses received angry calls, letters and demands for an apology, including one from New York City councilman John Liu. Colbert’s impersonation was clearly more offensive, but piqued almost no negative reaction.
Why? O’Donnell’s impression was poor and incomplete; she mocked the sound of the Chinese language to nonspeakers and the use of English names in foreign language media. She crossed the line of decency only slightly with a mildly funny joke, so the outcry was also slight and mild.
Colbert, in comparison, mega-jumped miles past the line of decency. He completed a full vocal and physical transformation into his impersonation. By offensive stereotype standards, his impression should have earned the bigger hostile reaction, and it would have, were it not infinitely funnier than O’Donnell’s. More humor, despite more offense, reduced the negative public reaction.
There are other contributing factors that change the level of offense taken toward racial jokes. A racial joke made in the daytime irks more than one made at night because children are more likely to hear it. Similarly, a racial joke made on a broadcast station likely offends more people than one made on cable or satellite because the public sets broadcast channels to a higher moral standard.
Those factors, however, account for much less of the offense taken than humor does. A horribly offensive, unfunny racial joke made late at night on HBO would still provoke massive outrage against its author. Not so if it’s funny.
If only Imus had known sooner.
