Molestation Jokes are Hi-LARIOUS, Part 2

I started this blog because I’m always trying to find a balance between the two dominant parts of my personality: the part that loves gallows humor and making jokes about inappropriate subjects, and the part that believes sensitive subjects deserve to be treated with seriousness and empathy.

I recently wrote about a disappointing episode of Community that included a storyline about a character that lied about being molested as a child in order to impress a woman and the people in his acting class.  A poster left this comment in response:

“…I found Troy’s plot stupid and standard sitcom, though not actively offensive. I never really connected to it to the doubts thrown up at real-life rape survivors, and thinking about it now, I don’t feel that it. Even what I consider a funny version of the same joke (a throwaway bit in The Office a few years ago) doesn’t make me feel that rape is anything but underreported and that the system makes it very difficult for victims for to be believed, let alone get justice. And I feel uncomfortable with the argument that other people will feel persuaded, or that it’ll give aid and comfort to those who enjoy and benefit from that difficulty.”

To which I say: Yes.  And No.

There are plenty of ignorant fuckwits in this world that will misinterpret an author’s intent or misappropriate a text for their own nefarious purposes.  There’s no arguing that.  At the same time, I do think writers have a moral responsibility to consider how their work contributes to the culture and social consciousness.

To explain further, I’m going to do a little compare and contrast exercise using the latest episode of Community and an episode of a different television show that included a similar plot, but one that I did not find offensive.  This was an episode of South Park.

Yes, South Park.  Bear with me. (Disclaimer: Polite dissent, argument, and constructive criticism are not only welcomed, but encouraged.  If you attempt to insult me with a troll dropping, I will have no choice but to point and laugh at you).

One of my all-time favorite episodes of South Park, “The Wacky Molestation Adventure,” came from the fourth season.  In this episode, Kyle is angry with his parents for reneging on a promise.  Cartman tells him to call Social Services and make a false accusation that his parents “molestered” him.  Kyle does this, and his parents are taken away, leaving him and Ike free to have crazy parties in their house.  All of the kids decide to accuse their parents of “molestering” them, and eventually every adult in South Park is taken away for rehabilitation.  The rest of the episode is a parody of Children of the Corn: two visitors come into town, lost on a trip to a job interview, and they find that South Park has completely degenerated into two different, warring societies.  Right when the kids are about to sacrifice Butters, the adult male makes an impassioned speech about why children should be good to their parents.  The kids realize how terrible things have gotten in the four days their parents were gone, so they tell the police they were lying.  The parents return after having been rehabilitated, believing they actually did molest their children but are now “cured.”  The children have no guilt over this and run off to build a snow igloo, as the visitors look at them in horror.

This show used a “children lying about molestation” story as the central plot of an episode, and I wasn’t offended at all.  In fact, I thought it was brilliant.  Why did I love this episode when the most recent episode of Community just offended me?

A couple of reasons.

1. Being offensive is South Park’s raison d’etre.  Not so much with Community.  I hate assholes on the street who cat-call me and make comments about my body.  But I hate it even more when a man I know, love, and trust makes a casual sexist joke and expects me to laugh, then chides me for being “oversensitive” when I don’t.  People who watch South Park know what they’re getting into when they turn on the TV.  Community, however, is a show that derives most of its humor from meta references and character study.  Watching a “fake molestation” plot is jarring and it feels like getting sideswiped.

2. Consider the characters making the false accusations.  Troy Barnes on Community is consistently portrayed as a man who, despite his past as a football player and his clinging to his “jock” persona, is really quite sweet and innocent.  He’s even more innocent than his best friend Abed.  There isn’t an opportunistic bone in his body.  Watching him suddenly develop one out of nowhere was surprising.  I wouldn’t have enjoyed this plot if it had been Jeff or Pierce or Britta making the false accusation, but at least such an action would fit their characters.  Watching it come from Troy made the joke particularly hurt.

On South Park, the character who suggested the “molestering” scheme was none other than Eric Cartman, the most vicious, opportunistic, vicious little shit of a sociopath on television.  The joke isn’t as hard to swallow when the idea comes from the show’s main villain.  Besides, South Park’s OTHER raison d’etre is to make fun of the idea that childhood is “innocent,” and prove over and over that children can be just as vile and awful as adults, if not more so.  “The Wacky Molestation Adventure” took that idea to the extreme.

It’s also worth noting that none of the children, not even Cartman, really understood what “molestering” was.  They knew it was bad, they knew it would make the cops take their parents away, but they didn’t know what it meant.  They didn’t even pronounce the word correctly.  Even being selfish and awful, there was a certain innocence and ignorance in their actions…but Troy knew full well what he was doing.

I don’t feel comfortable living in a world where Troy Barnes and his motivations can be unfavorably compared to Eric Cartman.

3. When you’re joking about taboo subjects, either go big or go home.  Community’s “false accusation” storyline was a subplot in an episode where Jeff and Pierce had the main stage, and the plot was entirely predictable.  I accurately guessed at each plot development before it happened.  But who could ever expect an episode about false accusations of child molestation ending in a Children of the Corn parody, or showing kids dancing in their underwear in a parody of Risky Business?

The episode of South Park appealed to me as a comedian because it was over-the-top, silly, and outrageous.  Quite simply, it was much more creative than the episode of Community.  But the very outrageousness of the episode also highlights the seriousness of the story, which brings me to the fourth and most important point.

4. The consequences for lying about child molestation are very, very different.  I don’t really expect viewers to walk away from either of these episodes with a deeper understanding of the serious subject matter, but even so, let’s take a look at the messages these shows are presenting.

The consequences of lying about being molested, according to South Park: a post-apocalyptic society filled with violence and anarchy and permanent psychological damage to the falsely accused.

The consequences of lying about being molested, according to Community: sexual attraction from a female friend that is only heightened when she finds out you were lying, and respect and admiration from your professors and classmates.

South Park, for all its insensitivity, manages to treat this subject seriously AND be very funny.  Community treats the subject purely as a joke, one that’s not even very funny.

And Community is better than that.

Final thought: Before someone takes it upon hirself to mansplain to me in the comments, I need to provide another disclaimer.  Yes, I understand what the writers of Community were trying to do with this story.  Their point was to mock the pretentiousness and hypocrisy of snobby theater people who have their heads up their collective asses.  I get it.  I appreciate the intent.  I don’t appreciate using child molestation to make that point.  There are a myriad of ways to make fun of pretentious theater people.  Trust me; I used to be one of them.