Friday reflection
Punch line: me
I’ve never been one for self-deprecating humor: I don’t make jokes at my own expense, and when other people put themselves down for the sake of a laugh, it’s more likely to make me uncomfortable than giddy.
But recently, I’ve fallen in love with laughing at myself.
It all started when I was listening to the “beige flags” episode of the podcast, We Can Do Hard Things. If you aren’t familiar, beige flags are “the hilarious internet sensation that invites us all to share our people’s weirdest and most baffling traits.” If red flags mean “danger, stay away,” and green flags mean “this bodes well for our future relationship,” beige flags mean, “wow, this person is just as weird as I am, but in ways I never could have predicted.” They’re innocuous quirks that we may find baffling but also, ultimately, endearing, such as this one:
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The podcast’s hosts — Glennon Doyle, Abby Wambach, and Amanda Doyle — were crying with laughter as they read about various beige flags that TikTok users had shared, and about the beige flags they identified in each other. Soon, I was also hysterical — and my heart was full. We’re all such weirdos! It’s endearing! It renews my faith in humanity!
…And I noticed, as I laughed, that I was surprised at the hosts’ ability to laugh at themselves without getting defensive. I realized that I admired this quality, and that it was something I very much wanted to cultivate in myself.
I had a ways to go. Somewhere along the line, maybe between being bullied as a child and again in early adulthood, I had armored up, as Brene Brown would call it. I could speak openly about all manner of sensitive, personal subjects, but I could not crack a grin at my idiosyncrasies.
In improv comedy (which I used to perform all the time, and now perform only occasionally — and which I miss like hell), we learn that the most powerful comedy comes from telling the truth; in fact, most Improv 101 students read a book that is aptly named Truth in Comedy. I remember doing a scene once in my 20s, at an audition, where I found myself saying something in character along the lines of, “I always buy the organic brand of shampoo — I’m not sure why, but it seems like the right thing to do.” And the directors running the audition cracked up, not because it’s a hilarious thing to say but because, I think, they saw some of themselves in it: It pinged some part of them that responded, “Yes, yes, that’s just the kind of dumb shit we humans do.” Or, to put it more succinctly: Me, too.
In the days since listening to that podcast, I’ve found a few opportunities to poke fun at myself — not to cover up insecurity, but to lean into it, and to celebrate weirdness. I’ve felt my entire body relax, like there’s a vigilance I’ve been holding onto that I’m finally willing to let go of.
Because, let’s face it: I’m weird, you’re weird, and my god, what fun it is, to be weird together. Or, as a t-shirt that my husband got himself last year puts it, “Follow your own weird heart.”
You are a mighty force.
Amanda
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