Early in Stripes, the 1981 comedy about Army misfits, a sergeant gathers a group of recruits for a time of getting to know each other.
One recruit launches into a diatribe about how he wants to be named and treated: “The name’s Francis Soyer, but everybody calls me Psycho. Any of you guys call me Francis, and I’ll kill you. And I don’t like nobody touching my stuff. So just keep your meat-hooks off. If I catch any of you guys in my stuff, I’ll kill you. Also, I don’t like nobody touching me. Now, any of you [homophobic slur] touch me, and I’ll kill you.”
Without missing a beat, Sergeant Hulka cut him off with a dismissive, “Lighten up, Francis.”
Finding Levity
I often think about this when I listen to my fellow progressives—including the voice rattling around in my own head—pontificating about whatever issue has captured our attention this news cycle.
The world has been in dire times since the first human looked at something another human had and thought, “I want that.” I don’t know when that first happened, but the Bible tells of Cain seeing God blessed the offering of his brother, Abel, but not his own.
“So Cain was very angry, and his face was downcast” (Genesis 4:5). This could just as easily be translated, “Cain thought, ‘I want that.’”
We’ve been spiraling ever since.
Now listen. Before I wrote that paragraph about violent ancient animosities, I wanted to simply write, “We live in perilous times” (which, of course, is true), before writing about our need for levity. But we have always lived in perilous times, and many have suffered from the peril, while others have benefited from it.
I also knew that if I didn’t offer the caveat before the assertion, many readers would side-eye their screens and mumble, “It’s always been bad.” (which, again, is true.) My self-editing highlights the current reality that many of us who care about inclusivity and justice face: We are walking around in a state of anxiety, worried that we aren’t “getting it right,” all while scolding others who we believe aren’t getting it right either.
The Progressive Conundrum
The liberal podcaster and comedian Marc Maron spoke about this phenomenon in his recent HBO stand-up special, Panicked. After saying that the best he can do to fight the rising tide of authoritarianism is to focus on running errands, he joked that he bought a vacuum cleaner and etched on it with a knife, “This vacuum kills fascists.” He then said only a few in the audience got the joke, but others “are still not over the fact that I said the ‘R’ word.”
The line was a callback to an earlier bit in the set, where he tore into “anti-woke” comedians who claim to champion free speech but, in reality, just want permission to use harmful language without accountability. But it was also a setup for a bit where he admonished his fellow liberals: “Progressives have really got to figure out how to deal with this buzz kill problem. I know these are important issues, but you do realize we annoyed the average American into fascism?”
He continued that “no one can ruin a barbecue quicker than a liberal,” before setting up an imaginary outdoor gathering:
“So you want something from the grill.”
“What about the genocide!”
“Well, this cookout is a benefit for the victims of the genocide.”
“Okay, do you have veggie burgers?”
“No, we don’t. You want a hamburger?”
“I can’t eat murder!”
Two Tensions
The conundrum Maron describes is rooted in two dilemmas.
The first is a question every thoughtful person asks in a traumatized world: With horrors swirling around us, when—if ever—is it okay to take a mental or emotional break? The answer is complicated by the reality that we now tote knowledge of all the horrors in the world around us in a machine that rarely leaves the palm of our hands.
Because of this, even if we believe it is okay to emotionally step away for a moment, we are hyper aware that we are doing so at the same time bombs are falling, families are being forcefully separated, and scalpels are dividing up Congressional districts and slicing up the Voting Rights Act. How can we forget about all that, even for a moment?
The second dilemma is rooted in our impatience with potential allies who haven’t quite signed on to our full menu of causes.
We joke about the MAGA cult hanging on every word that falls from Donald Trump’s mouth. Yet we see enemies in our fellow pro-immigration marchers who express doubt about the efficacy of COVID vaccines. Our purity tests turn us into hammers who see nothing but nails.
So what can we do about our buzz kill problem?
We begin by recognizing that even though levity is a privilege of those who rarely are caught with their back against the wall, it’s not exclusive to those with privilege. If you don’t believe marginalized and traumatized communities possess a lightness of spirit and an expansive capacity for humor, you probably haven’t been around any of them.
Toy Stories
I have a friend who is a director of a toy museum in Tartu, Estonia—and if the mere existence of someone with such a job makes you green with envy, it should. A couple of years ago, she treated me to a private tour of the exhibits, which included games, old children’s television programs, and, of course, toys.
Most exhibits featured old, factory-made toys. But I was especially drawn to a display of homemade dolls and puppets made from straw, rocks, and tattered straps of fabric.
It was a collection, a friend told me, that had been salvaged from various attics and basements of families who had lived in fear and poverty during decades of Soviet oppression. Some of the toys traveled, and perhaps were even assembled on, the grueling train rides to and from Siberian camps.
Wherever you find people ducking for cover from oppression, you will also find a young child doggedly scanning the rubble for something to play with. Children know deep in their bones that laughter is more effective than a lecture as a tool of resistance. Play is proof that resurrection is stamped on our DNA, and that evil will not win.
Last week, after Taylor Swift announced the October release of her latest album, there was the anticipated balance of joy from Swifties and mocking from people who “don’t care” about Taylor Swift so much that they feel the need to advertise it. But there was also liberal hand-wringing: How can we celebrate an album release while Palestinian children are starving?
I saw a response to this that stopped me in my tracks and can serve as a battle cry for people of good faith fighting for inclusion and justice: “It’s ok to hold a fist full of rage in one hand and a fist full of glitter in the other.”
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