“It’s Not Like He’s a Rapist”

A night with a bunch o’ comedy bros, talking about Louis C.K.

Photo by Kumpan Electric on Unsplash

Editor’s note: This story contains a description of physical and sexual assault that may be disturbing to some readers.

Being a comedian is fun. You get to laugh. You get to spend time making jokes.

You get to meet funny women and men who aren’t afraid to say what they think. Who make you think about things in a way you haven’t before.

But you also get to spend a lot of time with the bros. You know the ones, those who love talking about cancel culture and insist that punching down is funny, even when nobody else is laughing. The ones who complain about entertainment being too inclusive these days. Yawn.

The other day, right after the Grammys where Louis C.K. won for his latest special, I was sitting down talking with a group of five fellow standups (all male), and the topic of this disgraced comedian came up.

Admittedly, I may have rolled my eyes a little bit, as I often do when the only English-speaking comedians that people around me know are Chappelle, Gervais and C.K. I just didn’t expect the reaction from the men in the room, in defense of one of them.

“Come on, what did he do? Masturbate in front of someone? It’s not like he’s a rapist.”

Loud opinions began flying around the room. I was uncomfortable with the situation and couldn’t get my voice heard for a while over the shouting. Fortunately, the dudes realized it was a little unfair, me being the only woman against five men, and we changed the topic.

Here’s what I would have wanted to say.

Things That Aren’t Rape

Louis C.K. didn’t rape anyone. What he did do was harass several women, which he has admitted to. He was a known creep, to an extent where female comedians were advised against being alone with him at clubs.

Some of these women felt so uncomfortable about their experiences with C.K. and the reigning misogyny in comedy that they gave up on their careers.

It wasn't rape. It was a power play, designed in this sick man’s brain to put women in their place.

I’ve been in many situations that don’t qualify as rape, but were extremely uncomfortable.

When I was growing up in Finland, seeing men exposing their penises was incredibly common. I’d go into the forest near my house to walk my family’s golden retriever and encounter a man waving his dick at me. Not a man peeing, not a naked person in a healthy and natural way like we’re used to seeing in Finland, but a clearly sexual power play, in the Louis C.K. fashion.

This happened when I was 11. It happened when I was 15. It happened when I was 17. It wasn't rape, but it wasn’t right, either. I was a child, but it would have been equally disturbing if I were an adult.

It was so common I started jokingly calling it “the first sign of spring”. Because you know, there’s nothing to make you want to keep your pants on like a Finnish winter. I avoided some parts of the forest in the summer, and always stayed alert — golden retrievers aren’t great at defending you.

Later, in Barcelona, I was sleeping after a night out when a man tried to have sex with me. It wasn't rape, because I woke up and managed to push him away.

Once I had to run home with a friend at night because a man was following us. We barely made it inside before he reached us. He stayed in front of my building for a long while, masturbating, staring at our window. It wasn't rape, but it made me much more scared to go out alone after dark.

One night I did go out right after calling it quits with my boyfriend. I went to the party of a guy I knew and liked, and got blackout drunk. I woke up the next day to find a used condom and a note on the table. It was the “nice guy” buddy of the guy I had known at the party, and he was super nice on the note, leaving me his number and everything. I had no recollection of how I got home and what happened, but something clearly had. I remembered I had not been into him at the party. Had he followed me home?

I was mortified, so I turned the anecdote into a joke, one I’ve been telling for several years now. And that’s not okay. I didn’t do anything wrong. I was blackout drunk.

It wasn't rape, but lately I’ve started to think it wasn't right, either. I’m not sure I was awake, but I sure wasn't in the right state of mind to make decisions. He clearly didn’t think he’d done anything wrong, but I’m not sure.

Later, being a young, skinny blonde working with powerful men in Argentina, I encountered a lot of situations with looks and comments from creeps. I learned that especially when a woman advances in her career, she becomes the object of those comments. And that if she’s attractive, she must be dumb.

And of course, she will welcome everyone’s advances. Or at least she should, otherwise she’s a cunt.

It’s not rape, but it’s a mechanism designed to keep us in our place.

Is #MeToo a Threat?

When it comes to #MeToo, many men seem to only understand its importance in their lives. They’re only able to see it as a potential threat to them.

They don’t see how and why the movement is relevant to us women. The fact that we can finally put these stories into words. That we finally realize what’s happened to us in many stages of our lives, and that many of these things are not right. This movement gave us our voices back. It gave us a common vocabulary, an opportunity to share our experiences with others and realize we’re not alone.

When I saw the first #MeToo posts on social media, I thought: “Cool, but weirdly I’ve never had these experiences.” I’d been socialized to not detect these things, or not place importance on them.

In recent years, I’ve started remembering these situations and understanding why they’re wrong. I’m guessing this has happened to a lot of women, and we’re better off for it. We now know we can speak up if we’re harassed or assaulted when doing our jobs.

Even if it happens in comedy, and the men cry cancel culture.

And a lot of it is thanks to the women who spoke up about Louis C.K. Even though he still very much has a career and can keep on creeping on like he has, at least many women don’t have to share comedy spaces with him anymore.

Oh, and if you’re threatened by #MeToo, there’s probably a reason, and you should start examining your actions.

Maybe It’s Just You?

A quick word about the Grammy win and ‘canceled’ comedians. It’s all disappointing in so many ways, obviously. But most of all I think the whole talk is about catering to a public that’s desperately trying to hang on to that system that kept us women in our place.

It brings to mind that Cristopher Hitchens essay in Vanity Fair about women not being funny. Basically, just a bitter man complaining about his wife not laughing at his jokes, not stopping to think that maybe they’re just not funny. That maybe his humor was not really humorous at all, he had grown up into thinking it was.

I know a lot of men who think they’re funny, comedians or not. Usually, their wives and girlfriends are funnier. I’d bet the women Louis C.K. harassed were much funnier than he is.

I didn’t watch C.K.’s special, of course. But judging from this Variety article, it almost seems like he enjoys his supposed ‘canceling’. He now really feels free to make all kinds of dumb jokes and punch down, because he already lost his precious spot at the top of the comedy world, and gained it back. Now he can just go rogue and say whatever he wants, because those who still follow him are the same kinds of people.

And C.K.’s always been like that. For example, he loves using offensive words, not for their comedic effect, but because he just loves using them. Check out this clip, if you need some proof.

[embed]Yeah, not a great look.

When people say who they are, believe them. When someone insists on making racist and sexist jokes, he just might be racist and sexist. When someone harasses numerous women, taking advantage of his position, he just might be a creep.

Yeah, it wasn’t rape. But it was also not a joke. He’s really a creep. It’s pathetic, and it was wrong. Could we please idolize somebody new now?