If our skin gets too thick, we won’t feel anything at all, which is the most unreasonable of expectations. In some situations, yes, we’re humorless. Because sometimes, people can’t take a joke. I’ve stopped aspiring to be thicker-skinned, and I no longer expect or admire it in others. If you can’t laugh along, you are humorless. We often see this when comedians want to joke about race, sexual assault, gender violence or other issues that people experiencing them don’t find terribly funny. There is a strange idea that there is nobility in tolerating or, better yet, enjoying humor that attacks who you are, what you do or how you look - that with free speech comes the obligation to turn the other cheek, rise above, laugh it all off. But it should be obvious that the targets of jokes and insults have every right to react and respond. Long live creative license and free speech. It should go without saying that comedians are free to say what they please. Done less well, it leaves its targets feeling raw, exposed and wounded - not mortally, but wounded. It can force us to look in the mirror and get honest with ourselves, to laugh and move forward. ![]() Done well, comedy can offer witty, biting observations about human frailties. Thick skin comes up often in the context of comedy.
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