Humour so dark that it burnt me

 

At parties, I often play the provocateur, armed with a repertoire of dark, disparaging humor. It’s my way of keeping things interesting. A well-timed, controversial statement, delivered with a sly smile, has always been my calling card. Once, at a gathering of friends, I dropped a bombshell: “Feminism is cancer.”

The room froze. A few people chuckled nervously; others stared at me, mouths slightly agape. I revelled in the discomfort. My assumption was simple—everyone knows this is a joke. Of course, feminism isn’t cancer. Of course, everyone here understands the historical and ongoing oppression of women. My statement was a satirical dig at those who actually believe such nonsense, not a declaration of my stance.

Oh boy, how wrong I was!

In a recent WhatsApp group discussion, the tragic suicide of Atul Subhash came up. The conversation soon devolved into a rant by a friend who declared, “Most women misuse domestic violence laws.” I called him out, explaining how this narrative dismisses the brutal realities women face. His response? “Oh, look at you playing the woman card.”

I was stunned. Here was someone I considered a friend, parroting a lazy, misogynistic trope. I felt insulted and deeply hurt. And then it hit me: this wasn’t just about his ignorance. It was about me. My past jokes about feminism, no matter how ironic, may have handed him permission to think like this.

Maybe my “feminism is cancer” line wasn’t satire to him. Maybe it was validation.

Here’s the truth people like him overlook:

India’s domestic violence laws are undeniably skewed in favour of women, and for good reason. For decades, the violence women faced was ignored, silenced, or dismissed as a “family matter.” These laws were designed as a protective shield in a deeply patriarchal society where abuse is normalized.

Yet, the violence persists. Thirty percent of married women in India endure spousal violence, and most don’t report it because justice feels out of reach. Nearly 7,000 women die annually over dowry disputes. Millions are forced to quit their jobs post-marriage, sacrificing their independence to fit societal molds. Those who stay in the workforce work double shifts—six hours of unpaid domestic labor daily while men barely manage one.

Despite these protections, domestic violence against women hasn’t decreased; it’s grown more insidious. Yes, a fraction of cases might involve misuse, but weaponizing this minority to derail conversations about systemic abuse is irresponsible. The solution isn’t to erase protections but to refine them. Making domestic violence laws gender-neutral could leave vulnerable women even more unprotected in a society where they already lack equal footing.

When I joked about feminism, I thought I was being edgy. But my humor didn’t challenge misogyny—it gave it a smokescreen. It allowed someone to think their bias was okay, even justified.

I could do better.

Words matter, even in jest. Humor has power, and in a world where equality is still a fight, I need to wield that power responsibly. Because if my words embolden anyone, I want it to be the ones fighting for change—at least not the ones trying to derail it.