A digital magazine on sexuality, based in the Global South: We are working towards cultivating safe, inclusive, and self-affirming spaces in which all individuals can express themselves without fear, judgement or shame
Humour makes us feel good, relaxes us, lubricates social interactions, and often allows us to see things in new ways. Who doesn’t love a good belly laugh? However, what tickles your funny bone may be very different from what tickles mine.
Entertainment should aim to inspire, comfort, reflect and express. Even if something violent earns big at the box office, it doesn’t justify its creation.
I think we are still in a trap of a heteronormative, youth biased, light skin biased, sizeist, ableist culture and until we consciously snap out of it we are throwing a cloak over a human being’s ability to really find what their sexuality even looks like.
I tell them to laugh freely but question as much too. This gives them a sense of sheer relief to be able to ask, talk, question, because, even if it is ‘really bad’, after all, it’s being said in ‘lightness, is it not?
You don’t even realise what you’ve said until someone in the group, quick as lightning, hits you with the rejoinder, “That’s what she said!” As you’re trying to make sense of what just happened, the group dissolves into giggles.
There’s a difference between ‘laughing with’ and ‘laughing at’. The above instance was obviously of the latter kind. Humour has a complex but integral relationship with queer genders and sexualities, and it has been evolving over time.
There are not that many good looking guys in Bangalore, dude. In Bombay, there are so many failed actors. You’re like, good looking, insecure AND delusional? I can keep you.
Most parents, teachers, and caregivers feel embarrassed when talking about sexuality with children and imparting sexuality education. Is there a way to overcome this by using humour?