Assault is No Joke: An Examination of Louis C.K. and Aziz Ansari
My thumb doesn’t move as I hold my phone, staring at a serious-toned photograph of Aziz Ansari underneath a headline I don’t want to believe, that he has committed sexual assault. I don’t want to scroll and read the article, because I feel shock, denial, but then disappointment, and most of all, familiarity. I begin to read, and as the text reveals the details and evidence I cannot deny as assault, I recall the exact wave of reactions I felt only two months ago, when Louis C.K. committed sexual misconduct.
On November 9th of 2017, The New York Times reported that five women accused the stand-up comic and actor Louis C.K. of sexual misconduct. Dana Min Goodman and Julia Wolov, a comedy duo from Chicago detailed how Louis C.K. “asked if he could take out his penis,” removed his clothes and masturbated in front of the two in his hotel room after a comedy festival in 2002. Only a year after, Abby Schachner could hear him masturbating over the phone during a call to invite him to one of her shows. Rebecca Corry denied his request to masturbate in front of her in 2005 while they were appearing on a television pilot together. The fifth woman anonymously spoke about how he would masturbate in her presence in his office while working on the production of “The Chris Rock Show” in the late 1990’s. These testimonies sadly reveal a pattern throughout Louis C.K.’s comedic career: abusing his power to assault aspiring comedians who admire his work.
After the allegations came out about both of my favorite stand-up comics, I pondered why it was so difficult for me and many others to recognize Aziz Ansari and Louis C.K. as sexual predators. Perhaps their work falsely advertises a sense of feminism, of alliance, of intersectionality. They give off this impression by creating inclusive plots and characters addressing ethnicity, ableism, queerness, and sexism in the media such as in Aziz Ansari’s critically acclaimed show Master of None. Or maybe one senses a feminist alliance from Louis C.K. when he jokes in his standup that “there is no greater threat to women than men” because “globally and historically we’re the number one cause of injury and mayhem to women!” Though when I first watched this clip, I laughed along, fully convinced that he was on our team, that he was one of the good guys, rather than ironically being the very kind of man he condemns. The stand-up comic has also spoken of his half-Mexican upbringing, which can be uplifting for many fans hoping to see more diversity in mainstream comedy. In 2012, Louis C.K. sold comedian Tig Notaro’s album of her standup set on his website, coming across as a supporter of female comedians.
His and Ansari’s supposed solidarity towards various identity politics creates the illusion that their work is a “source of strength, community, and intellectual development.” But rather, perpetrating the very misbehavior their work advocates against violates our trust as fans, viewers, and as those in marginalized populations who had hope for more representational and inclusive mainstream media. And in Louis C.K.’s case, he abused the trust and admiration from aspiring comedians in the most heinous of ways.
Although nothing can make full amends to the survivors of these comedians’ sexual assault, a fan can contribute to the fight against this gendered violence by believing the victims, no matter how devout the support is for one’s favorite comedian. One must recognize their acts as assault and not forgive their excuses, that they didn’t understand the context of consent at the time. Similar to how Aziz Ansari stated that he perceived his date’s responses as consent, Louis C.K. reportedly apologized to one of the accusers over the phone in 2015, regretting that he “misread” people at the time. According to the accusations, a pattern of Louis C.K. appears, as he tells the women right before he commits the act about his urges to masturbate. As he declares in his apology statement, letting them know prior to committing the act doesn’t entail consent, instead it serves as a “predicament to them” in which they feel unsafe to decline. Therefore as a culture, we must come to the consensus that the excuse of consensual ambiguity is not consent.
Meanwhile, big businesses can contribute too. I believe HBO and FX Productions responded appropriately by cutting ties to the comedian. HBO cancelled the release of his film I Love You, Daddy while FX terminated their deal with his production company, Pig Newton, affirming that “now is not the time for him to make television shows.” As these positive reactions from companies imply that there will be no tolerance from sexual aggression from this point forward, a fan like myself can’t help but feel betrayed knowing how far he and Ansari have come with their accomplished work while keeping their predatory actions hidden under supposedly progressive masks.
I’m currently rewatching one of my favorite television series, Parks and Recreation. I can no longer laugh at Aziz Ansari’s character, Tom Haverford, as he uses his cuddly, materialistic, and comically-suave personality to attempt to seduce every attractive woman. Nor can I find humor in Louis C.K.’s cameo as Dave Sanderson, the adorably awkward and mild-mannered cop. As Leslie Knope says in season 4, “When men…behave this way, they betray the public’s trust.” Could there be hope for a safer future for women, when even the “good guys” commit this gendered violence? It depends on how we, the public, respond to that betrayal of trust.
