Why I’ll Never Do Stand-Up…

I’ve been told by a few people over the years that I should do stand-up and my answer has been and always will be “I’m not going to do stand-up.” While I appreciate the suggestion and will readily admit that I’m pretty quick with one-liners…and well, that my smart ass reputation tends to proceed me wherever I go, my humor, like my gregarious exterior (and yes, I’m hoping that’s the first time you’ve ever seen the word “gregarious” in a blog entry so I feel like those student loan payments for my English degree are paying off) is all smoke and mirrors. Call it a defense mechanism, a mask, body armor…it’s a way of hiding the real Michele from the rest of this big, sometimes bad world.

A few entries ago, I mentioned a traumatic event in my life when I was a teenager but that was a story for a different day. Well, here it is folks, today is the day: I am a survivor of acquaintance rape. When I was a freshman at the University of Minnesota, a friend of a friend held me captive for a night in his dorm room and sent me down a rabbit hole that I’m still trying to find my way out of. The thing about rabbit holes is that they are dark, dirty places that are fit for, well…animals, not a place fit for a human being. Dark, dirty places will warp you, trust me on this one.

I’ve always had a sense of humor (my mom blames my dad for that). Over the years, in order to combat the darkness and dirt in my life, I’ve honed that sense of humor…to make myself laugh (yes, I crack myself up and always have. If you doubt me, look up my senior yearbook quote)…to deflect the hellish feelings that come along with the trauma of rape…to protect the real me from being seen by the rest of the world.

What I mean by that last one is that as long as I’m fake, funny, disingenuous Michele, no one, especially me, gets hurt. My biggest fear in life is that if I open up to anyone about those battle scars I received that night that left my spirit battered and broken, I will be rejected and all the horrible things I think about myself as a result of my rape will be validated…and I will be found guilty of someone else’s crime. The crazy deal is that if I had reported this crime at the time and if he would have had to answer for it, he would have completed his time long ago, while I will be doing time for that experience for the rest of my life. Fake, funny, disingenuous Michele doesn’t do hard time down the rabbit hole. She lives in the light…above the dirt. She’s also, well, fake, there’s no getting around that one. So therein lays the paradox, I don’t get hurt, but I’m also not known, by anyone. Whether I’m in the dark, dirty rabbit hole, or in the light, I am alone.

So, the next time it’s suggested to me that I should give stand-up a shot, I will say, like I always have “I will never do stand-up.” Why? Because while I can appreciate a good sense of humor (believe me, I’m my biggest fan) I don’t feel right about seeking the spotlight (even if it’s just at a crappy comedy club in Minneapolis)for my body armor. It has kept me closed off but it has also kept me safe…and that needs to be honored.

Life is a series of tradeoffs so I’ll keep my humor and leave the stand-up to others.