Updated: Oct. 21, 2020
Originally Published: May 18, 2015
For years, I have been an avid follower of Louis CK. When I say “follower,” I mean he has been my top imaginary partner for quite some time. I was likely one of the few who tuned in to his first HBO show, Lucky Louie. I’ve followed his FX series, Louie, since its inception, often with a glass of wine in hand to create that perfect ambiance for spending time with my imaginary beau. As a divorced parent, I’ve nodded along to his reflections on the chaotic world of post-divorce dating, often chuckling at his insightful observations about parenting. His unique blend of humor and sadness resonates deeply with anyone navigating the waters of parenting after divorce.
What draws many to him is his raw honesty. He steps onto the stage or in front of cameras and talks candidly about the moments when he loses his cool with his kids. He openly discusses the humiliations of mid-life dating. One of my favorite quotes from him is, “I don’t stop eating when I’m full. The meal isn’t over when I’m full. It’s over when I hate myself.” Good luck avoiding that meme during Thanksgiving!
Like many edgy comedians before him, he sometimes crosses lines. He tackles self-loathing, body image, and the absurdities of everyday life. And usually, he makes me laugh—hard. He has a knack for humor that is both relatable and profound.
Recently, he hosted the season finale of Saturday Night Live. I didn’t catch it live because, even the most devoted girlfriend of an imaginary boyfriend has her off days, but I did watch his opening monologue the following day. I was apprehensive, having heard whispers of controversial lines.
He began by reminiscing about the differences for those of us raised in the ’70s, touching on sensitive topics but keeping it brief. The humor? Meh. This wasn’t his best material.
Then he veered into a discussion about child molesters. I felt a wave of discomfort wash over me. It’s disheartening to watch someone you admire say something that feels deeply inappropriate. He joked about the neighborhood pedophile from his childhood, even giving him a comedic French accent. He likened pedophilia to his love for candy bars, claiming, “Child molesters are very tenacious people,” and suggested that from their perspective, it must be exhilarating to risk so much.
Before anyone accuses me of lacking a sense of humor or missing the point of comedy, let me clarify—I’ve watched the likes of Lenny Bruce, Richard Pryor, and Joan Rivers. I appreciate comedy that challenges norms and evokes conversation. I genuinely enjoy bold humor.
But as I listened to Louis CK talk about child molestation, I couldn’t help but think of my friend, Emily.
A few years back, while I was at work, my phone rang. It was Emily, and she was in tears. I had to find a quiet place in the bustling elementary school where I work to hear her. She was devastated because she had just learned that a close family member had sexually abused one of her children. Hearing the pain in her voice was heart-wrenching. She felt guilt for not recognizing the signs, mourned the loss of her child’s innocence, and raged against the perpetrator as she shared the harrowing details with me.
Emily is incredibly strong. She confronted the family member and reported him to the authorities. She risked her marriage and strained relationships with extended family to seek justice for her child. Though she knew nothing could erase the trauma inflicted, she was determined to ensure the abuser faced some consequences. Ultimately, he did take his own life after charges were filed, but before any legal action could begin.
Throughout this ordeal, I stood by Emily’s side, listening as she needed to talk. I learned that it wasn’t just one child affected; it was multiple. I was sickened and furious at the betrayal by someone who had disguised himself as a good person. When he died, I felt no sadness. Instead, I mourned the loss of the facade he had maintained and shared in Emily’s grief, knowing the scars left on those innocent children would linger.
We strive to protect our children, to shield them from harm. When someone breaches that trust, it feels like part of us breaks. I witnessed Emily transform through this traumatic experience; a light in her eyes dimmed. No child should ever endure such horror, and no parent should have to endure the anguish that comes with it.
That’s why I couldn’t find humor in Louis CK’s remarks about child molesters. I saw the reactions online—some were shocked, others claimed that if you didn’t find it funny, you just lacked a sense of humor. One tweet read, “Anyone who didn’t think that was funny has no sense of humor.” I shook my head and thought how fortunate those individuals were to be so oblivious to the reality of such trauma.
Louis, I still appreciate you as a comedian. You can maintain those restraining orders against me. But as a fellow parent, I urge you to consider the boundaries you tread upon. Some boundaries inflict deeper wounds than others.
In Summary
In summary, Louis CK’s recent stand-up routine crossed a line for many, particularly when he joked about child molesters. While humor often pushes boundaries, it’s essential to remember the real-world impact of such jokes, especially on those who have experienced trauma. The author reflects on a personal story about a friend who faced the devastating effects of child abuse, emphasizing the importance of sensitivity in comedy.
Keyphrase: Louis CK comedy controversy
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