That thing he wrote, the time the sparrow died (Oh, most unpleasant—gloomy, tedious words!) I called it sweet, and made believe I cried; The stupid fooll l’ve always hated birds. -Dorothy Parker (From a Letter from Lesbia)

I had intended to bring together material here from the past and present and systematically summarize and explain the concepts and theories that characterize women’s humor. Presumably this would be be fairly simple; a good deal of data and some relatively predictable themes would emerge, with which one could then wrestle. Yet although the past few years have witnessed a resurgence of interest in humor, I found material on women's humor sparse—to say the least. There was one article in Ms. Magazine in 1973 1. Naomi Weisstein, “Why We Aren’t Laughing ... Any More,” Ms. Magazine (Nov. 1973), p. 49ff. and, more recently, one unmentionable publication of sophomoric inanity; in over 5,000 entries in the New York Public Library’s card catalogue under the heading “Wit and Humor, only four deal with women. 2. Kate Sanborn, The Wit of Women (New York: Funk and Wagnalls, 1886); Martha Bensley Bruere, Laughing Their Way: Women’s Humor in America (New York: Macmillan, 1934); Bernard Hollowood, ed., The Women of Punch (London: Barker, 1961); Lore and Maurice Cowan, The Wit of Women (London: Leslie Freewin, 1969). An annotated bibliography of “all published papers on humor available in the English language in the research literature” (1900-1971) 3. Jeffrey H. Goldstein and Paul E. McGhee, “An Annotated Bibliogra phy of Published Papers on Humor in the Research Literature and an Analysis of Trends: 1900-1971,” in The Psychology of Humor, ed. Jeffrey H. Goldstein and Paul E. McGhee (New York: Academic Press, 1972), pp. 263-283. contains approximately 400 items, of which not one relates to women’s humor.

Humor itself is difficult to define. In this article, I will consider it generically as any form of communication which is perceived as humorous by any of the interacting parties. “Women’s humor" is used to connote humor created by women and dealing in some way with woman’s role in the human condition. Of the various theories, the psycho-sociological approach, stressing the notion of humor as social interchange, may be most fruitful for our purposes. Humor is potentially part of every social structure and affects all social systems. When the subject is relationships between women and men, men are traditionally permitted to tease or make fun of women, who in turn are required to take no offense; in fact, we are frequently expected to join in the "fun," even though it is at our own expense. This context is similar to that of racist humor—gratifying one group at the expense of the underdog; its purpose is to throw blame on some group and to reinforce its inferior position. In this process the role of the scapegoat itself is vital. Generally, as O. E. Klapp points out, the scapegoat has a specific socially defined role and position. To the dominant group, "the fool represents values which are rejected by the group, causes that are lost, incompetence, failure, and fiasco." 4. O.E. Klapp, Heroes, Villains and Fools: The Changing American Character (New York: Prentice-Hall, 1962). The fool’s position is degraded, but simultaneously valued— s/he serves as the scapegoat, the butt of humor, the cathartic symbol of aggression. But even beyond that, Klapp suggests that there is an underlying, continuous, collective process that ascribes this fool’s role to a group of people as a means of enforcing conformity, maintaining the status quo, pressuring for status adjustments, or simply eliminating an undesired form of deviance. In fact, this has been one of the components of every form of racism. Blacks, Chicanos, Jews, or any other minority group as the butt of humor is too well known to require description here.

What is the usual reaction of the scapegoat group? How does it use humor—as a defense, or even as a weapon in its struggle to survive? Historian Joseph Boskin, writing about the social func tions of black humor (black ethnic humor, not "gallows humor”), suggests that there are two varieties.5. Goldstein and McGhee, “Annotated Bibliography,” p. 112ff. External humor is present ed to the dominant culture as an accommodation to white society, a means of survival. Totally different, however, is internal humor, which reinforces the ingroup’s behaviors or values, and in which one of its members usually triumphs over representatives of the dominant group. Some jokes may also poke fun at the ingroup itself, but that’s all right; it's "within the family." This same analysis holds in regard to any other ingroup/outgroup or dominant/scapegoat relationship—except in the case of women.

A fascinating phenomenon takes place in women’s humor, different from what is found in black, Jewish, or any other scapegoat humor; namely, the absence of internal humor. Obviously, much humor has been directed at women by men, but I have no intention of going into those jokes. There has also been a good deal of women’s external humor—the face we have presented to the male-dominated society as a means of survival: yes, we are silly, mindless playthings; aren’t we fun(ny)? But where is our internal humor? Where are the jokes, the anecdotes, the cartoons that would positively reinforce our existing or changing behavioral patterns? And where are the “in-jokes, poke a bit of good-natured fun at ourselves, and which simultaneously serve to solidify the group—the type of humor with which Dick Gregory, for example, helped to create a new image for blacks, a consciousness of their past and their identity? Most important, where is the humor directed at the common oppressor? Where are the anecdotes in which we come out ahead; the jokes in which the men fall on their asses while we stand there and laugh? The answer is that for the most part, there weren’t any. Yes, there were stories told by Dorothy Parker, Ruth Draper, and maybe one or two others, but generally there has been no women’s ingroup humor until very recently.

Why not? Women have been identifiable as a group in every culture since time began. Yet the jokes or stories that women tell each other when they are together are the same jokes that men tell, sometimes slightly cleaned up. In other words, for the most part we have accepted the outgroup’s humor. We have even emulated it and its values, making the same kind of disparaging remarks about ourselves that men do.

This has been the pattern for a long time. In the eighteenth century, one of Lady Mary Wortley Montagu’s bon mots was, "It goes far towards reconciling me to being a woman, when I reflect that I am thus in no danger of marrying one." Hannah Cowley extended this further when she said, “What is a woman? Only one of nature’s agreeable blunders." But even in more recent years, we find Lady Astor stating, "My vigour, vitality and cheek repel me; I am the kind of woman I would run away from. Women are inherently inferior and therefore, according to Margot Naylor, have great difficulties achieving success: "If every successful man needs a woman behind him, every successful woman needs at least three men." But who really wants to be a success anyway, when Elizabeth Marbury assures us that, "A caress is better than a career”? Ilka Chase agreed; she knew how to invest her money: “America’s best buy for a nickel is a telephone call to the right man." What we really ought to do is follow the advice of Anita Loos: "A girl with brains ought to do some thing else with them besides think," because, as Sophie Tucker so aptly concluded, "No man ever put up with a successful woman, and he’s right!" Yes, folks, those were the jokes. That was women’s humor. And things haven’t changed too much. As recently as March 11, 1977, in reviewing an all-female amateur comedy revue at Once Upon a Stove, Anna Quindlan noted:

Certainly making jokes about the female condition is a comic tradition—male comics have been doing it for years. But why no turnabout? Why are mothers still the butt of jokes? Why does Farah Fawcett Majors get savaged for her looks three times in one evening? Why doesn’t one voice cry out in the wilderness: “Take my husband—please"? 6. Anna Quindlan, “Women Comics Get the Last Laugh,” The New York Times (March 11, 1977).

Why not, indeed?

When we encounter such a bizarre situation, we have to try to explain it. The psychoanalytic concept of "identification with the aggressor” may be the “defense mechanism" which explains this particular "feminine dilemma." Anna Freud mentions the case of a little girl who was afraid to cross the hall in the dark because she dreaded ghosts. Finally, she hit upon the device of making all kinds of peculiar gestures and noises as she crossed the hall, because “There’s no need to be afraid in the hall; you just have to pretend that youre the ghost who might meet you." Anna Freud goes on to point out that this is a normal defense mechanism of the ego when confronted by authority and/or when dealing with anxiety. She also states that such identification may at times represent an intermediate stage in the development of paranoia.8. Ibid., p. 129. (We had better watch out for that one!)

There is little doubt in my mind that in order to survive, we have for thousands of years identified with the aggressor. Judy Chicago has said about women's art:

If you are invested in the structure and values that male dominance has provided ... or if you want validation from those institutions that have grown out of that structure, then you don’t want to recognize that women exist separately from men. ... what subject matter and what forms are important, and what the nature of art is and who defines it and who makes it, and how much it costs, are simply projections of the male value structure. 9. Lucy R. Lippard, From the Center (New York: Dutton, 1976), p. 228.

It is my contention, then, that as a partial consequence of women’s identification with the aggressor, we have until recently accepted the aggressor’s humor, in which we are the scapegoat. This same identification has also prevented the development of any humor directed against the oppressor. Even in love, it has been expected that the woman identify totally with the man. Simone de Beauvoir states:

... it is not enough to serve him. The woman in love tries to see with his eyes... she adopts his friendships, his enmities, his opinions. .. She uses his words, mimics his gestures, acquires his eccentricities and his tics. "I am Heathcliffe," says Catherine in Wuthering Heights; that is the cry of every woman in love; she is another incarnation of her loved one, his reflection, his double: she is he. 10. Simone de Beauvoir, The Second Sex (New York: Knopf, 1953), p. 613f.

If love is "every girl’s dream," and if one-sided over-identifi cation is part of love, then it is not surprising to find that it has been an integral element of all of woman’s history. When you’re identified with the aggressor, clearly you don’t make fun of him, and you don’t make fun of yourself for being identified with him. Today, however, we are in the midst of an evolutionary process which is beginning to have some impact on women's humor. For many of us, our previous conventional roles are no longer tenable ways to deal with the world and with ourselves. We are reevaluating our sexual identities, and we are beginning to create the missing link in women’s humor, as illustrated by the works following this article.

These works were produced by a particular group of women —artists whose frame of reference is essentially the art world. Nevertheless, they provide some insight into an emerging ingroup humor. Some of these works represent a satirical view of previously accepted male stereotypes and values; others are concerned with our new identities, as illustrated by some pieces that deal with our own anatomies. Women’s bodies always have been sensuously exploited as outrageous cheesecake images. While some artists parody this male viewpoint, others, like Annette Messager, Ulrike Rosenbach, and Eleanor Antin, pleasurably explore their own anatomy to produce comic illusions in which sexual exploitation is not paramount. At other times, women's humor in art is primarily concerned with the general human condition. In the introduction to Louise Bourgeois’ book of engravings, He Disappeared into Complete Silence (1947), Marius Bewley wrote:

They are tiny tragedies of human frustration.... The protagonists are miserable because they can neither escape the isolation which has become a condition of their own identities, nor yet accept it as wholly natural. Their attempts to free themselves, or accept their situation invariably end in disaster. 11. Louise Bourgeois, He Disappeared into Complete Silence (New York: Gemor Press, 1947).

In a lighter vein, Laurie Anderson writes, “On Church Street, I decide to name my daughters Luncheonette and Delicatesse ... at the fruitstand, the owner’s son yells at me Hey Cereal Lady!'; I don’t know why and try to look as neurotic as possible."

In my own work, as part of a series of "puppet plays,” I use humor to communicate what would otherwise be difficult to say, to make constantly problematical human contacts less threaten ing. Carol Conde, entering the traditional male arena of politics, presents women wondering whether to join the class struggle, or to submit to the seductions of the capitalist.

All of these types of humor are still comparatively rare. It is probably too early in our identification process to expect them to appear frequently. And we are still at a stage where some of us see anything that isn’t female-self-congratulatory as "anti feminist." It takes time, and it's difficult. One of the signs of real social change will be when we can invent jokes about ourselves, as well as about "them," and laugh freely.

"Freedom produces jokes and jokes produce freedom' -Jean Paul (Richter), 1804.

Go into the kitchen with defiant joyful anger... Put on your apron and... You are in this kitchen because you do not have a penis. Keep this in mind as you crush the garlic with the heel of your shoe..... You will be The Best Woman In The World. AMERICAN AS APPLE PIE. JUST LIKE MUM'S. Remember: The oven is your womb! Let's do it right!

POLITICAL CONSCIOUSNESS (A DIALOGUE) "Ever since I saw photographs of those poor women in sweat shops, I refuse to buy anything readymade." "What a wonderful thing to do. It’s like a one-woman boycott—like the grape boycott. You know, I still can’t bear to eat grapes?" "There was one on lettuce, too." "I didn’t hear about that one. And I just ordered salad! I feel so badly." "It’s all right, dear. It’s over now and the workers are happy again. Yours was endive, anyway." "But I do think you’re right about mass-produced clothing. If women didn’t buy those cheap copies of designer dresses, it would protect the designers' incomes, too." Nancy Kitchel. 1976.

"Negating the Negative"

anti-pure, anti-purist, anti-puritanical, anti- minimalist, anti-post minimalist, anti-reducti- vist, anti-formalist, anti-pristine, anti-austere, anti-bare, anti-blank, anti-bland, anti-boring, ...anti-universal, anti-internationalist, anti- imperialist, anti-bauhausist, anti-dominant, anti-authoritarian, anti-mandarinist, anti- mainstreamist,. ..anti-black, anti-white, anti- gray, anti-grid, anti-god,...anti-logic, anti conceptual, anti-male-dominated, anti-virile, anti-tough, anti-cool, anti-cruel,...anti-controlled, anti-controlling, anti-arrogant, anti- sublime, anti-grandiose, anti-pedantic, anti- patriarchal, anti-heroic, anti-genius, anti- master.

"On Affirmation"

fussy, funny, funky, perverse, mannerist, tribal, rococco, tactile, self-referring, sumptuous, sensuous, salacious, eclectic, exotic, messy, monstrous, complex, ornamented..

Excerpt from Joyce Kozloff. (an answer to Ad Reinhardt’s “On Negation”). 1976.

From 'Photography and Other Good Designs' DARLING, I STAYED AT YOUR PLACE WHEN YOU WENT TO CALIFORNIA AND I SAW ALL THOSE PHOTOGRAPHS OF HER SMILING FACE THERE'S A BIG ONE IN THE KITCHEN, SHE'S SMILING ON THE BEACH THERE'S A SMALL ONE IN THE BATHROOM, SHE'S LOOKING OUT AND SMILING. WELL I THOUGHT YOU WERE JUST FRIENDS, TIL I FOUND A LETTER IT SAID, "DARLING, I LOVE YOU, BUT YOU LOVE ME BETTER." WELL I MAY HAVE BEEN BLIND, BUT NOW I CAN SEE DARLING, MY DARLING, YOU WERE TWO-TMING ME. I LOOKED AT THOSE PHOTOGRAPHS, DAY AND NIGHT HER YEES WERE A DAZZLING BLUE, EVEN IN BLACK AND WHITE. I TRIED TO PICTURE THE WAY SHE TALKED, HOW SHE MOVED WHAT SHE THOUGHT ABOUT DRIVING ON THE ROAD ALONE SHE WAS SO STRANGE AND BEAUTIFUL, SO COOL, SO WARM AND SHE DID SMILE A LOT AFTER A WHILE, I KNEW I WAS IN LOVE WITH HER. I COULDN'T HELP FALLING IN LOVE WITH HER. I HAD A DREAM THAT SHE AND I WERE LOVERS, WE MADE LOVE ALL DAY UNDERNEATH YOUR COVERS. WE USED ALL YOUR TOOLS TO DRILL HOLES IN YOUR SCULPTURE THEN WE LAY ON THEM ALL DAY - SHE WAS A GREAT COOK TOO - COLD CUTS. I LOVED HER SO MUCH, AND I WILL NEVER FORGET HER THE DAY SHE SMILED AT ME AND SAID, "DARLING I LOVE YOU, BUT YOU LOVE ME BETTER." THE DAY SHE WHISPERED, "DARLING, I REALLY LOVE YOU, 8BUT YOU LOVE ME BETTER. © LAURIE ANDERSON

Once a man was angry at his wife, he cut her in small pieces, made a stew of her. then he telephoned to his friends and asked them for a cocktail-and-stew party. Then all came and had a good time.

Carolee Scheeman. Excerpts from performance 1972.

Carol Conde. 1977. Pen and ink. 3 1/2" x 5 1/2".

Karen Shaw. 1975. 11" x 7 3/4".

Eve Sonneman. Houston. 1972.

Sandra Matthews. 1976.

Ida Applebroog. 1976. Shadow puppets, rhoplex on paper. 10" x 12" each.

Eleanor Antin, 1973. Red ink on paper. 9" x 12". "In London during that season I met again the beloved teacher of my early days."

Eleanor Antin, 1973. Red ink on paper. 9" x 12". "Patrick was inexperienced but very athletic."

1. Annette Messager. . 1974-5. Ink on flesh.

2. Annette Messager. . 1974-5. Ink on flesh.

Ulricke Rosenbach. . 1974.

Laurie Anderson. 1977.

Louise Bourgeois. From . 1946. Engraving. 5" x 7".

Mierle Laderman Ukeles. . 1977. 12" x 4 1/2".

Homage to Mu Ch'I. (7th-century Southern Sung Zen painter, especially painting: "Permissions"; Mu Ch'i was an early "forerunner of abstract expressionism.)