Dead Baby Jokes Symbol Analysis in Jena Friedman's Not Funny

What Are Dead Baby Jokes in Not Funny?

In Jena Friedman's memoir Not Funny, dead baby jokes function as a recurring symbol of dark humor that she uses to explore how comedy can deflect, shock, and ultimately confront trauma and political injustice. The motif appears most explicitly in chapter 4, “Dead Baby Jokes, or, How to Talk to a Fetus Lawyer,” where Friedman traces the form from its Victorian origins to her own abortion and miscarriage comedy. The jokes are not just punchlines; they represent a philosophy of comedy that treats the most taboo subjects as raw material for connection and critique.

The Literal Form and Historical Roots

Friedman defines dead baby jokes as a genre of dark humor that centers on the death of an infant, often in absurd or violent scenarios. She opens the chapter with a classic example: a doctor swings a newborn around the room, throws it into a ceiling fan, and then reveals it was already dead—an “April Fool's” prank. The joke is deliberately shocking, designed to steal focus and provoke a reaction. Friedman notes that these jokes are “equal opportunity offenders” because they target no specific group; they are “inclusive” in their absurdity.

Historically, Friedman traces the form to late-1800s Britain, citing Harry Graham's 1899 poem about Willie nailing the baby to the door. She points out that the mother's response—“Willie dear, don't spoil the paint”—already contains a feminist subtext, as the female character is multifaceted and not easily pinned down. She also cites folklorist Alan Dundes, who argued that dead baby jokes appeared in the US in the 1960s-70s as a reflection of the Vietnam War and cultural upheaval. Friedman disagrees with Dundes's characterization of a “sick society,” instead seeing the jokes as a “pressure valve” for anxieties around motherhood and abortion during the women's rights movement.

Recurrence and Evolution in Friedman's Career

The motif recurs throughout Friedman's life and work, evolving in meaning. As a preteen, she used dead baby jokes to deflect classmates' racist and anti-Semitic humor. She describes how, as the only Jewish kid at the table, she would “whip out a dead baby joke to stun everyone into silence,” shifting the conversation away from bigotry. This early use establishes the joke as a tool of subterfuge and self-protection.

Later, dead baby jokes become a blueprint for her adult comedy, particularly her abortion jokes. She writes, “Abortion jokes are dead baby jokes for adults.” They are equally shocking but more pointed and political. Her first abortion joke came from a real experience with a drunk-driving gynecologist, and she amassed a large repertoire. She notes that abortion jokes are “threatening” because they attack power imbalances, unlike the “innocuous” dead baby jokes.

The motif also appears in her professional work. At The Daily Show, she pitched numerous abortion segments that were rejected, though she produced a field piece on Alabama's “fetus lawyer” law with Jessica Williams. Later, for Adult Swim's Soft Focus, she created live-action pranks involving adult babies protesting outside an abortion clinic, and a breastfeeding prank. These are extensions of the dead baby joke's logic: using absurd, shocking imagery to expose the contradictions of anti-abortion activism.

The most personal evolution comes in her miscarriage joke, which she calls “the closest thing I've ever written as an adult to an actual dead baby joke.” The joke, about friends having miscarriages after thirty-five, is rooted in honesty and legislative absurdity (Indiana's law requiring burial of “the goop”). She performs it in red and purple states, and it works because it forces audiences to confront a taboo subject.

Meaning Shifts: From Deflection to Confrontation

The symbol's meaning changes across the book. Initially, dead baby jokes are a defensive tool—a way to change the subject and avoid conflict. Friedman uses them to deflect bigotry, not to challenge it directly. But as she matures as a comedian, the jokes become a means of confrontation. She writes that dead baby jokes “gave me a power to distract and deflect, but they also taught me how to write comedy that forces people to confront issues like reproductive rights head-on and shock them into attention.”

This shift is also political. Friedman contrasts dead baby jokes with racist jokes: the former are harmless because they don't normalize prejudice, while the latter can. She argues that dead baby jokes are “healing” because they bring people together in laughter and disgust, and they are “democratic” because they work in almost any audience. However, she also acknowledges the limits of this humor in the internet age, where algorithms amplify more dangerous content, and where her dead baby jokes would be “down-voted or ignored” compared to the racist and anti-Semitic humor that spreads online.

Character and Theme Connections

The motif connects to several characters. Friedman's mother, who joked at her grandmother's funeral, models the use of humor in dark moments, which Friedman credits as an influence. Mike DeStefano, a fellow comedian, taught her to make dark jokes purposeful; they exchanged AIDS-related texts before she learned his wife had died of AIDS. Joan Rivers is a key predecessor, having joked about abortion before it was legal. Friedman also references Bill Hicks, whose abortion joke was cut from Letterman, and Jon Stewart, who allowed her to work on abortion-related segments at The Daily Show.

Thematically, dead baby jokes align with comedy as a coping mechanism for trauma and political upheaval, as Friedman uses them to process personal and societal trauma. They also intersect with gender double standards and sexism in comedy, since abortion jokes are often deemed too political for female comics, and with the ethics of taboo humor and dark comedy, as Friedman defends the healing potential of such jokes. The motif also touches on cancel culture and accountability when her Adult Swim prank draws backlash from clinic escorts.

Study Questions

1. How does Friedman's use of dead baby jokes as a preteen differ from her use of abortion jokes as an adult?

As a preteen, she used dead baby jokes to deflect racist and anti-Semitic humor, shifting the conversation away from bigotry without directly challenging it. As an adult, her abortion jokes are confrontational and political, attacking power imbalances and forcing audiences to face reproductive rights issues. The earlier use is defensive and reactive; the later use is offensive and proactive.

1. Why does Friedman consider dead baby jokes “innocuous” while abortion jokes are “threatening”?

Dead baby jokes are innocuous because they target no real group and don't normalize prejudice; they are absurd and equal-opportunity. Abortion jokes, by contrast, are threatening because they challenge the status quo and the power imbalances that restrict women's reproductive autonomy. They are political and personal, undermining the dominant narrative.

1. What role does the historical context play in Friedman's analysis of dead baby jokes?

Friedman traces the form to Victorian Britain and its US popularity in the 1960s-70s, linking it to cultural upheaval and the women's rights movement. She argues that dead baby jokes acted as a pressure valve for anxieties around motherhood and abortion. This historical grounding supports her claim that such humor is a healing response to trauma, not a symptom of a sick society.

1. How does the miscarriage joke represent the culmination of the dead baby joke motif?

The miscarriage joke is the closest Friedman comes to a dead baby joke as an adult. It is rooted in personal honesty and legislative absurdity, and it forces audiences to confront a taboo subject. Unlike her earlier dead baby jokes, it is not just shocking but also political, addressing the real-world consequences of anti-abortion laws. It demonstrates how the motif evolves from deflection to confrontation.