In 1962, women reporters were first allowed to attend the White House Correspondents' Dinner. A mere 30 years later, Paula Poundstone became the first (solo) woman to host the event- an annual mixer between the most powerful people in the country and the folks supposed to be holding them accountable. Since Poundstone, only four women have gotten the gig: Elayne Boosler (1993), Wanda Sykes (2009), Cecily Strong (2015) [1], and earlier this month, Michelle Wolf [2].
Wolf, a correspondent on The Daily Show, a future Netflix series host, and a seasoned stand-up comic with a recent HBO special, was lauded by many critics when she was chosen to host and covered favorably by most critics, with some naysayers.
But, as you by now have read in think piece after think piece, Wolf's brutal 20-minute set drew both full-throated condemnations and celebrations, split along mostly predictable lines, save for a cabal of "objective" journalists who sided with administration officials that has been lying to them for nearly a year-and-a-half. What most critics seem to agree on, though, is that Wolf's performance made visible what many have long argued: the annual schmooze-fest is a strange, broken, unnecessary event that probably should not exist. Wolf's performance has also stirred up debates on women and sexism in comedy, the role of humor in activism and politics, journalistic ethics, and the decline in decency in the public sphere.
Quickly following the dinner, the White House Correspondents' Association wrote a letter to its members condemning the host, despite months earlier claiming to have hired her precisely for the reasons they later used to denounce her. In a statement, Margaret Talev, president of the WHCA told the press: "I'm delighted to announce 'Nice Lady' Michelle Wolf as our featured entertainer this year. Our dinner honors the First Amendment and strong, independent journalism. Her embrace of these values and her truth-to-power style make her a great friend to the WHCA. Her Pennsylvania roots, stints on Wall Street and in science and self-made, feminist edge make her the right voice now."
Late-night hosts and fellow comics came to Wolf's defense (see The Daily Show), with Wolf giving interviews in the following weeks to folks like Seth Meyers, her former boss, and Terry Gross of NPR, saying that she wouldn't have changed a word of her set.
Full remarks here for those who missed them:
Because the performance and ensuing debates are ripe for critique by comedy scholars, we solicited viewpoints from members on their takes on the performance and blowback. These ended up just coming from your illustrious steering committee and a wonderful graduate student from Minnesota -- so if you're reading this and thinking you'd like to add your take -- send me an e-mail!
Vanessa Cambier, a graduate student at the University of Minnesota, Twin Cities in the department of Cultural Studies and Comparative Literature focuses on the rhetoric that Wolf "bombed": It is hard for me to remember a time I did not like watching stand-up comedy. It is harder to remember a time when I did not have to respond to various male friends and family members tell me, “I just don’t find women funny. I don’t know why but their standup isn’t that good.” For all of the commentary about Michelle Wolf’s Correspondents’ Dinner Roast, I want to address the notion that it was not funny and that she somehow “bombed.”
For those of us who teach, particularly groups of students who are simultaneously upset by our ‘liberal’ and feminist politics, these kinds of silences are very familiar. Wolf was teaching. Wolf did not have complete control of the room and I truly believe that was part of her act. She bravely left a space open for the interaction without knowing what she would get. She left the boundaries blurry and exposed herself. That comedy was pedagogical truth.
But Wolf also pulled some punches by throwing in random, self-deprecating asides thus giving a ‘shout out’ to the stereotypical female comedian, at least the version who often lives in the minds of men. As much as her set was a truthful critique of the media and the Trump administration, it was also an illuminating moment for the “unfunny women” of comedy.
And, of course, the glut of people who do not think women are funny, or think that Wolf “bombed,” do not understand that, hey, not everything is for and about men (aka you). Have you ever thought that maybe you don’t “get” women’s jokes because, just maybe, they are meant to make you question yourself? Of course, “misunderstanding jokes” is a rhetoric often used by power to protect men who sexually harass and assault by also making women question their own realities. Wolf’s near-20-minute set turned this relationship around and on its ear; women aren’t “funny” because they make you pay attention.
Professor Annie Berke has been thinking about the tone of Wolf's voice and how it plays a role in the reception of her comedy:
I've been thinking primarily about Michelle Wolf's voice since I heard her interview with Terry Gross on NPR. Wolf's voice was much softer and gentler than it is on The Daily Show or it was at the White House Correspondent's Dinner. Wolf admitted on Fresh Air that she was purposely speaking in her most dulcet tones because she didn't want to sound too shrill alongside to the famously smooth vocal stylings of Terry Gross. I wonder if that's why people were so mad about her speech: not just for what she said, but for the mode of delivery. It represents a kind of aural male gaze she is just smashing into smithereens. Her commentary on her own voice also makes me think about a sort of internalized misogyny on the left as well, as she got so much blow-back from liberals who wanted to defend the more lady-like SHS, who is a mother if you might recall.
Stephanie Brown (me! your narrator!), soon to be doctor as of June 6, just finished a dissertation on gendered double standards of comedic authenticity, and found a few passages on the limits of "comedic license" that apply well to the backlash Michelle Wolf is facing:
The celebration of stand-up comedy as a liminal space operating outside of the confines of polite society is useful only to the extent that it lets everyone in. Rhetoric scholar Stephen Olbys Gencarella (2016) touches on this issue in a recent collection on stand-up and activism, writing that “while we may praise the beneficial applications of this liminality, we cannot do so with a blind eye toward its potential disadvantages, especially if it protects freedoms of speech, gesture, and thought for only a select few” (238).
The ways in which stand-up comedy is conflated with freedom, justice, and truth harken back to Foucault’s (1978) theorization of power and discourse in which offensive speech becomes a way fight against the perceived confines of repression. In a similar vein, comics and comedy fans see “political correctness" as the antithesis of free speech in comedic discourse. However, this common-sense belief in transgressive speech as freedom doesn't actually disrupt or dismantle power structures - it merely allows for claims of transgression through the suggestion of topics deemed socially inappropriate. Foucault refers to this tension as “the speaker’s benefit." The speaker of taboo topics can claim to be revolutionary without undertaking any actual risk.
Comedians and their fans frequently invoke the speaker’s benefit when arguing that offensive jokes are automatically subversive, important or necessary. Comics who rail against political correctness want to keep being able to tell offensive jokes while simultaneously knighting themselves as warriors against state tyranny. However, the speaker’s benefit works to maintain the power of straight white men within comedy spaces because women and other marginalized comics are rarely granted the same freedom. Thus, "pushing boundaries" has become naturalized as a license for privileged comics to tell racist, transphobic, homophobic, or misogynistic jokes without pushback. When marginalized comics try to push boundaries that actually threaten the dominant social hierarchy, though, they are punished for going "too far" or operating in "bad taste." These moments make visible the limits of the "comedic license" frame because not everyone is granted this license equally. When a comic threatens to truly topple cultural and social hierarchies -- or to threaten the power of straight, white, wealthy men -- the comedic license is revoked.
And, finally, in an op-ed for the Star Tribune, Professor Maggie Hennefeld argues:
What was so incredible about Wolf’s roast is precisely her refusal to give us safe laughs — jokes that would let the audience off the hook from their own discomfort and personal complicity. From her blunt opener, “Like a porn star says when she’s about to have sex with a Trump, let’s get this over with,” Wolf delivered a 17-minute set of brutally honest material, all formatted as jokes, but not jokes with punch lines meant to provoke laughter for the audience in the room. The material was written for them, but not for the purpose of making them laugh. I loved Wolf’s throwaway comments at the end of each joke (“Mazel [re: Mitch McConnell’s neck circumcision],” “That’ll solve it [racism]. We just needed an afternoon,” “There’s a lot of party” tonight [re: #MeToo], and “You might want to put a flue on it or something” [re: Megyn Kelly’s whiteness]), that audibly draw out the crowd’s intense silence and visceral avoidance.These roasts are always missed opportunities because comedians tend to make safe jokes that allow their audiences to blow off steam rather than linger in the discomfort. If you can’t laugh it off, you have to sit and think about what the joke means.
Previous hosts, from Stephen Colbert to Hasan Minhaj, have touched on charged topics while pivoting around them by way of widely pleasing punch lines. It is terrifying to face an audience, as a stand-up comedian, with no intention of making them laugh, but instead confronting them with their own complicity and irresponsibility. As Wolf put it, “It’s fun how values can waver, but good for you.”
No doubt, this conversation will continue to unfold in the weeks and months ahead, and I look forward to updating this article with future thoughtful critiques of Michelle Wolf's performance and the responses that followed as well as news as to whether the WHCD will even exist in its current format going forward. Also -for anyone looking for an SCMS panel for next year's conference - this topic is still ripe for discussion!
[1] Before Cecily Strong hosted, Elle Magazine and The Hollywood Reporter wrote retrospectives about the three previous women hosts.
[2] A year before Wolf hosted, the Village Voice wrote a lengthy profile of the comedian's background, previous comedic work, and commentary on her style. In the week leading up to the WHCD, The Washington Post published a similar piece, including Wolf's thoughts on the gig. Both worth checking out if you were previously unfamiliar with her work!