When I was young, I loved to put on a show ( I still do, if I’m completely honest). For a while, I went through a “comedy hour” phase, where I would recount a series of jokes, for all to listen to.
While my zest was great, my jokes were few, mainly because my brain had a limited capacity for joke memorization.
When my repertoire started to wane, I turned to another avenue for humour: making fun of people.
Ah yes, making fun of people. What a fun thing to do (fun for everyone but the people on the other end of it).
And, being only 9 years old, I reached for the low hanging fruit: I began making fun of people’s appearances.
Growing up with the Simpsons and Seinfeld, I learned that baldness was a physical trait that was ripe for humour.
So, I started with my follically challenged relatives.
1) Target number one, a close family friend (middle aged, bald).
I don’t remember what I said in particular, but I remember thinking that I had just found my new calling: bald man mocker.
Target number two: Saskatchewan Uncle ( sported a meticulous comb-over).
Being a child, I can guarantee that I had nothing witty to say, but, I remember my Uncle laughing at my joke and and me thinking “oh yes, I am on a roll”.
Target number three: Albertan Uncle.
By now I already had two bald mockings under my wings, so I was a pro! I was ready for my monumental comedy show.
And this time, I had an audience: aunts, uncles, cousins and parents were in the crowd.
I ridiculed my Uncle’s baldness.
I thought I was pretty darn funny. And to be honest,I probably wouldn’t remember this story, had it not been for what happened next.
The next day, my Aunt took me aside and spoke with me in private.
She said, “Jane, do you remember when you were talking about Uncle’s bald head?”
Oh yes, did I ever. It was my best comedic stint yet.
I nodded my head.
She then told me that the words I had said were not nice.
That my comments had hurt my Uncle’s feelings.
That it was unkind of me to make fun of him the way I did.
That it made my Uncle sad.
My Aunt expressed this to me with care and concern. She did not raise her voice or show any anger to me, but her words shaped me. It was not comfortable to have her say what she did to me. It made me feel uneasy and sad. I didn’t realize my words were harmful because I thought they funny.
My Aunt taught me that we never know what a person is struggling with: when we make fun of them and they are smiling, they may be crying inside.
I still struggle with my words, at times (being kind with words can be challenging). But one thing holds true, if ever I am tempted to make fun of someone’s appearance, my Aunt’s words ring in my ear and I am reminded to be a bit kinder to others, regardless if they are follically challenged or not.