The Abortion Jokes Motif in Not Funny: Symbol Analysis

What the Abortion Joke Motif Is and Where It Comes FromnThe abortion joke motif in Not Funny is a recurring comedic device that Friedman uses to confront reproductive rights, political absurdity, and the gendered constraints of the comedy industry. The motif spans one-liners, field segments, pranks, rally speeches, and a network sitcom pitch. Friedman explicitly frames abortion jokes as dead baby jokes for adults—equally shocking but more pointed and political because women's personal decisions are treated as political territory.nThe motif is rooted in Friedman's childhood fascination with dead baby jokes, which she used as a preteen to deflect classmates' racist and anti-Semitic humor. Because dead babies exist across every demographic, she argues, jokes about them are equal opportunity offenders that can trump bigoted barbs and shift conversation. That early training became a blueprint for her adult comedy: the same shock-and-deflect structure, redirected toward reproductive politics.nFriedman traces the dead baby joke form from late-1800s Britain to US popularity in the 1960s and '70s, citing folklorist Alan Dundes, who linked the cycle to the Vietnam War era. She reads the form not as a symptom of a sick society but as a pressure valve for a traumatized one—a way to alleviate anxieties around motherhood and abortion stigma. That historical framing positions her own abortion jokes as part of a longer tradition of women using dark humor to claim control over their bodies.n## Where the Motif RecursnThe motif appears across Friedman's career in distinct phases, each marking a shift in what the jokes can do and where they can be told.nThe personal origin. Friedman's first abortion joke grew from a real experience: a friend's gynecologist got drunk at a bar and drove home drunk, then called the next day to offer Friedman her practice. Friedman declined and wrote a joke instead—about trusting someone with such poor judgment to help her get rid of a pregnancy. By her mid-twenties, she had accumulated so many abortion jokes that the sheer volume became a joke in itself: no one tries to steal them because they're like the unwanted children of jokes.nThe late-night censorship era. At the Late Show with David Letterman, Friedman learned that abortion was effectively unpitchable. She notes that Bill Hicks was the only person in history to get an abortion joke on Letterman, in 1993, and that the set never aired until 2009, sixteen years after his death. A joke alluding to menstruation nearly got her fired. She built a Post-it wall of topics that could end her job; abortion didn't need a Post-it because she already knew.nThe Daily Show years. At The Daily Show with Jon Stewart, Friedman pitched abortion segments repeatedly and was rejected, though she produced an Asheville, North Carolina field piece. While scouting a Planned Parenthood for an exterior shot, she learned the bomb squad was en route for a suspicious package—a reminder of the real-world stakes behind the comedy.nThe fetus lawyer segment. In July 2014, Alabama's HB 494 created fetus lawyers. Friedman filmed a segment with Jessica Williams interviewing attorney Julian McPhillips. The piece ended with a joke about Alabama diverting public defender funds to fetus lawyers while living people in jails went without representation. Friedman acknowledges the segment didn't change policy, but it used absurd legislation as comedic material.nThe Adult Swim pranks. For Soft Focus, Friedman staged two abortion-adjacent pranks. In the first, adult-baby protesters—grown men in diapers with signs reading ADULT BABIES 4 LIFE and AT 2,000 WEEKS HE HAS A HEARTBEAT—trolled antiabortion protesters outside a Queens clinic. The prank angered pro-choice clinic escorts, and Friedman apologized. In the second, a friend who openly breastfed her four-year-old son approached antiabortion protesters to ask if they'd babysit; the protesters scattered instantly, and the footage was unusable. The clinic workers called it the most effective dispersal of harassment teams they'd ever seen.nThe Supreme Court rally. In March 2018, during oral arguments for NIFLA v. Becerra, Friedman spoke at a NARAL rally on the Supreme Court steps. She opened by pretending to be Ellen DeGeneres to capture the crowd's attention. She deliberately kept the speech drier than her stand-up, mindful of how right-wing media had used her election-night remark.nThe miscarriage joke. Friedman's darkest performed joke is a miscarriage bit: in her mid-thirties, many friends are having miscarriages, and she jokes that kids and miscarriages are the same thing after thirty-five. The joke references Indiana's HB 1337, which required women who miscarry to bury fetal tissue. She performed it in red states like Missouri, purple states like Wisconsin, and in Ireland, where abortion had only recently become legal. She notes it worked every time because it was rooted in honesty and inspired by actual legislation.nThe Conners pitch. While writing for The Conners, Friedman pitched a scene where Darlene's daughter asks her mom to pick up the morning-after pill. Her bosses warned the network might not approve an abortion story line, but Friedman explained the pill isn't an abortion—it delays ovulation—and they listened. She wasn't invited back the following season, but she calls the moment a small but significant sign of progress.n## How the Motif's Meaning ChangesnThe abortion joke motif evolves across the book in three ways.nFrom deflection to confrontation. As a preteen, dead baby jokes were a shield—a way to silence bigoted peers and protect herself as the only Jewish kid at the table. As an adult, abortion jokes become a sword. Friedman writes that abortion jokes are threatening because they attack power imbalances and undermine the status quo. The shift mirrors her growth from a defensive kid to a political comedian.nFrom taboo to mainstream. Early in her career, abortion was unpitchable on late-night TV. By 2020, she performed her miscarriage chunk for Comedy Central's digital platform—something she says she couldn't have imagined a decade earlier. The motif's trajectory tracks the culture's slow acceptance of abortion comedy, which Friedman connects to Joan Rivers joking about abortion before it was legal, using appendectomies as a euphemism.nFrom shock to honesty. The miscarriage joke marks a turning point. Friedman describes it as her darkest joke but also the most honest, insulated from criticism because it's rooted in real experience and real legislation. The joke's power comes not from transgression but from truth-telling about something women are expected to endure silently.n## Character and Theme ConnectionsnThe motif is inseparable from Friedman's identity as a female comedian navigating a male-dominated industry. Her abortion jokes are both her signature material and the thing that gets her rejected from writing rooms, cautioned by bosses, and targeted by conservative media. The prologue establishes her mother as a model for using humor in dark moments—joking at her own mother's funeral that her twenty-eight-year-old daughter wasn't yet an adult. That model of humor-as-coping underpins the abortion joke motif, which treats reproductive trauma and political assault as material for laughter.nFriedman credits Mike DeStefano with teaching her to make dark jokes purposeful. Their friendship, built on exchanging dark jokes, culminated in his lesson about purposeful darkness—a principle that animates her abortion material. Jon Stewart's Daily Show is both a platform and a limitation: it rejected her abortion pitches but gave her the field-producer skills and visibility that later enabled her independent work.nThe motif ties directly to the book's major themes: comedy as a coping mechanism for trauma and political upheaval, gender double standards and sexism in comedy, the ethics of taboo humor and dark comedy, and the economics and precarity of a comedy career. The motif costs her jobs—the Letterman period joke, the Conners non-renewal—while also building her reputation. It also connects to cancel culture and accountability in comedy, as the Adult Swim prank backlash shows the risks of pushing taboo material too far.n## Study Questionsn**1. How does Friedman distinguish dead baby jokes from abortion jokes, and why does she consider the distinction important?nFriedman argues that dead baby jokes merely offend—they're shocking but innocuous, with no real-world target. Abortion jokes, by contrast, are threatening because they attack power imbalances and undermine the status quo. The distinction matters because it frames her abortion material as political speech rather than mere transgression. Dead baby jokes taught her the mechanics of shock comedy; abortion jokes gave that mechanics a political purpose.n2. What role does the election-night get your abortions now remark play in the book's argument about comedy and timing?nThe remark, delivered on Colbert's election night special as results turned against Clinton, drew gasps, hate mail, and conservative media criticism. Friedman later reflects that it proved prescient when Roe v. Wade was overturned. The episode demonstrates both the risks of abortion comedy—public backlash—and its potential foresight: the joke anticipated a political reality that materialized years later.n3. How does the miscarriage joke differ from Friedman's earlier abortion material, and what does that difference reveal about her evolution as a comedian?nThe miscarriage joke is rooted in honesty and real legislation (Indiana's HB 1337) rather than pure shock. Friedman describes it as her darkest joke but also the most insulated from criticism because of that honesty. The shift reveals her evolution from using shock to deflect (as a preteen) to using honesty to confront (as a mature comedian)—a trajectory she credits partly to Mike DeStefano's lesson about making dark jokes purposeful.n4. What does the motif reveal about the gender double standards in comedy that Friedman documents throughout the book?**nThe motif exposes a double standard: male comedians could joke about taboo subjects, but Friedman's abortion material got her cautioned at Letterman, rejected at The Daily Show, and uninvited from The Conners. The Bill Hicks anecdote is instructive—his abortion joke on Letterman never aired until after his death. Friedman's abortion jokes are threatening precisely because they're political, and the personal is political for anyone who isn't a white man. The motif thus becomes a measure of how much the industry's tolerance for women's political comedy has—and hasn't—changed.