We have just (hopefully) emerged from a terrible week for laughter.

Before last week, our shared cultural touchstones for laughter in America felt positive, entertaining, comforting.  What made us laugh?  Watching children play.  The Sunday funnies. (For younger readers: the “Sunday funnies” were comic strips that appeared in Sunday print editions of newspapers.)  The Three Stooges. The Marx Brothers.  Saturday cartoons (again – for the young people: when television had a handful of channels on which we all accessed the same shows at the same time when they were broadcast by the networks, there was a block on Sunday morning for animated cartoon programs).  The Thin Man.  Cary Grant.  Jean Arthur.  Bob Hope.  Laugh-In.  Sanford & Son.  Archie Bunker.  Rob Reiner.  Saturday Night Live.  Bernie Mac.  Jim Carrey.  Grace Under Fire.  Dave Chappelle.  Jon Stewart.  King of the Hill.  Wanda Sykes.  Stephen Colbert.  Chris Rock.  Michelle Wolf.  Most of us probably smile to think of at least a few of these, maybe we remember something that brings us a giggle.

As television expanded, America started viewing on our own schedules instead of having national conversations about what was on last night.  Social media facilitate circulation of memes and bon mots fast and furious around our own private circles, interwoven with input from the journalists, media personalities, and other celebrities we follow.  Inside jokes abound.

We may not have many universal references.  Ask any stand-up comedian about finding a joke that plays to every room.  Different populations in different places, literally and culturally, have funny bones that react differently.  Humor is personal, often.  Some people get more to laugh about in their lifetimes than others.  Some people get more worries.  Still, one thing we share is that usually we laugh when something is funny.  Usually, when we laugh we are happy.  Laughter is was associated with joy, or at least with some level of happiness.

Laughter, no matter whether it’s triggered by an old movie or a new tweet, still tends to link up inside us with our happy place.  Ideally, laughter helps us feel better about the world and about ourselves.  There is a saying: “We who can laugh at ourselves will never cease to be amused.”

Last week, laughter was not amusing.  Last week, laughter was depressing.

I haven’t felt this sad about laughter since Robin Williams died, and we learned that he had been very sad himself, troubled.  Before that it was John Belushi who made me laugh and laugh while he was living and then made me so sad when he died and I found out he was troubled.

This time, laughter was not depressing due to the tragic loss of a gifted comedic performer.  This time, laughter was depressing because we heard and saw two dramatic versions of its dark side unfurl on the national stage.  When laughter does not link up with our happy place inside, is when we are being laughed at by someone else.  When we don’t share a laugh but rather are the butt of a joke, then laughter does not feel good, nor positive nor relaxing.  When we are being laughed at, laughter can be excruciating.  Laughter can be turned into an instrument of shame and pain.  Which it was in two stark examples last week.

Dr. Christine Blasey Ford testified under oath before Congress last week that amidst the memories seared into her brain during a sexual assault she survived in high school, one of the most lasting and inescapable is the laughter shared by her assailant and his buddy in the room at the time of the assault.  Repeatedly under questioning from Senators, Dr. Ford reiterated that the laughter of her attacker remains with her.  This is haunting for all victims of assault, and for all persons listening to her testimony with the empathy of a normal human being.

The day before Dr. Ford told us all how toxic and traumatic her assailant’s laughter remained in her memory, the current American president experienced his own reality of being laughed at in a public forum.  The United Nations responded to lines that would have been absurd even at a hyper-partisan campaign rally, by laughing out loud at Trump’s typical hyperbole.  Delay from translation made the hilarity even more inescapable.  It might have been a pitiable event, if the commander in chief had not been, as usual, lying.  For those of us at home who find his chronic selfishness and self-centeredness offensive, this response from the world’s diplomatic community provided validation and solidarity with our domestic resistance to the horrifying narcissism which inhabits what currently passes for our government.

In spite of any solidarity or courage we might glean within these specific instances, the overall take-home message of last week was that laughter can be bleak.  Laughter can be at our expense.  Mean, callous laughter can result from privilege exercised without consequence.  Laughter can be locked into our long term memories as a nightmarish trigger to re-live some of the worst moments we have survived.

For those of us (#metoo) with just such nightmares that we have long struggled to reconcile within our own memory banks, Dr. Ford’s courageous testimony serves as witness to our own truth.  Those of us with Senators who questioned her veracity must step up to challenge the old order of power in our democracy.  For those of us appalled and appeased by the world’s laughter at our President’s insane and inane self-aggrandizement, we must vote, and get out the vote across our communities.

I pray that we soon will all laugh again with joy, with pleasure, with relaxation.  Together as a nation, and alone as survivors as well as people who believe and love survivors.

Keep the faith.  Keep in touch.