Why We Can Talk About Joan Rivers

By Jorge Carreón.

When it came to comedy while growing up Chicano in southern California, you had several legendary choices to embrace, especially if you’re a boy. I’m of a “certain age,” so that meant listening (not watching as this was before YouTube) to Richard Pryor, Johnny Chingas, and especially, Dr. Demento’s radio show on KMET and the formidable Cheech & Chong. Once we entered the VHS age, the boys’ club expanded to include Eddie Murphy’s “Delirious,” which practically ran on a loop in my neighborhood. (Of course, this was on the days we weren’t watching the film version of “Up in Smoke,” of course.) Such macho swagger left little or no room for the ladies because none of the boys I knew thought women were funny.

Sure everyone loved Lucy, but she was the wife, the mother, the pain in the neck who always got into trouble and had to be saved by her suave Cuban hubby. If you think about it, Lucy Ricardo just wanted to be noticed, only to be cock blocked by Ricky every time.

I’ve always found this misogyny interesting, particularly within the Latino community. Our women are funny, often dangerously so. Nothing compares to their laser-like precision when it comes to cutting people down, especially men. Our women will “go there” whether you want to take the trip or not. That is why Joan Rivers appealed to me from such a young age. She went “there” before I even knew there was a “there” to begin with. All because she asked, “Can we talk?” I just had to lean in and hear the answer.

I blame my high school student government advisor for this turning point in my teen life. Sure, I venerated the same comedy titans that my male friends were worshipping. (Amazing how straight boys will go “gay” in their affection for certain types of men at some point in their lives.) But as much as I would laugh, I just didn’t see myself in their idols. Yet, when Ms. Ellis gifted me with Joan Rivers’ seminal comedy album “What Becomes a Semi-Legend Most,” the comedy star’s scandalous riffs about age, menopause and that slut of all time, Heidi Abromowitz, hit my sweet spot. Finally, someone spoke to me, even though I was far from being a middle-aged Jewish woman…yet.

My introduction to Rivers was a gateway drug because I was soon jonesing for more of Joan and other female artists like her. Soon, I was taking big hits of Bette Midler, Lily Tomlin, Jaye P. Morgan, Brett Somers, Kaye Ballard, Betty White, Cloris Leachman, Totie Fields and every other woman on the “Mike Douglas Show” or “Hollywood Squares” who had the balls to say what women weren’t supposed to say out loud.

Sure, my tastes refined to include Rosalind Russell, Irene Dunne, Judy Holliday, Madeline Kahn, Erma Bombeck, Anita Loos, Fannie Flagg, Fran Leibowitz, Dorothy Parker and others. Today, the list has grown to include Tina Fey, Roseanne Barr, Gilda Radner, Molly Shannon, Maya Rudolph, Jane Curtin, Melissa McCarthy, Amy Schumer, Sarah Silverman, Anjelah Johnson and Lisa Lampanelli. But you never forget your first of being Klassy with a K.

And I’ll never forget Joan.

I am happy/sad how Rivers played a major role in the “homofication” of our popular culture. The courage with which she spoke so frankly about gender, sex, relationships, celebrity and media at the start of her career devolved into something that is hard for me to listen to now.
Our obsession with celebrity culture needs a major reboot. Sure the famous and rich are easy targets. But the toxic tone of today’s media pundits is spilling over into the most mundane corners of daily life. Today, it seems the art of cutting down (or talking “smack” or “throwing shade”) is spiked with anger, envy and, too often, unbridled cruelty. I stopped watching Rivers’ infamous red carpet coverage and never laid eyes on her “Fashion Police” show, as I view both as key reasons why too many copycats confuse being a “bitch” means being a mouthy asshole with a vendetta. (Even Rivers tried too hard to remain the O.G. of the cutdown queens in the end.)

However, whatever the downside she experienced to stay relevant, as tributes continue to pour forth from all sectors of the media, I am reminded of what made her special to begin with. Her public answer to her question of “Can we talk?” made for conversations I will never forget. I may not have loved “Rivers,” but I sure as hell will never stop loving the “Joan” of my youth. She talked and we listened. She taught us all, girls and boys, gay, straight and undecided, not to ever be afraid to go “there.”

Thanks for showing us the way, funny lady.