Amy Schumer’s White Heterosexual Female Space

“I don’t know if you guys know this, but this past year, I’ve gotten very rich, famous, and humble,” Amy Schumer says to open The Leather Special, her first Netflix Original Special. She’s joking – the intention, denoted by her quick inhale, is to expose the false modesty of celebrity culture – but the statement isn’t inaccurate.

Amy Schumer’s comedy has evolved dramatically. This is not a surprise for those who know of Schumer’s rise to fame – slow, steady, and then, dramatically, all at once. Schumer began performing stand-up at the Gotham Comedy in 2004, after graduating from Towson University with a degree in theater the year prior. In 2007, after performing stand-up for two-three years, she recorded her first special for Comedy Central, and soon after appeared on and placed fourth on the NBC reality show Last Comic Standing. Since then, she has recorded several specials (Cutting, Mostly Sex Stuff, Live at the Apollo Theatre, The Leather Special), has created, written, and starred in a show on Comedy Central called Inside Amy Schumer, has written and starred in the movie Trainwreck directed by Judd Apatow, and has become a mainstream Hollywood comedy icon, appearing on late-night talk shows and having a very famous friendship with A-lister movie star Jennifer Lawrence. According to her 2016 best-selling memoir The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo, in between all this she worked hard every night, constantly writing and trying out material.


Defining characteristics of Schumer’s comedy pre-Hollywood included irony and the shock factor. As mentioned in my “Semiotics of Amy Schumer” chapter, the history of Amy Schumer’s race ambivalence is complicated. One tic that Amy Schumer has is that when she makes a joke, she’ll follow it with a very quick, seemingly confused, “um,” or “I, uh,” and then pause. This is a characteristic of hers in specials and stand-up shows throughout her career – Schumer rarely lets a joke stand on its own without that verbal tic. The “um” becomes a part of the momentum of the joke – a space in which Schumer makes a noise to allow the audience to absorb/register the meaning of what she just said, and then laugh. The “um” also allows Schumer to establish her ironic “dumb blonde” persona.

In an earlier special on Comedy Central, Schumer says, “I used to sleep with mostly Hispanic guys, but now I prefer consensual. Um…” She uses this to jump into a larger point about the pervasiveness of rape culture. Using a “dumb blonde” persona to joke about race is not uncommon; Sarah Silverman does this as well (Goehring). In some cases, the comic is using “comic minimization,” a humorous rhetorical strategy in which one reduces the apparent significance of a topic in order to emphasize its true gravity and relevance. The intention of this anti-PC humor is to parody the ignorance of the racist statements by rendering them ridiculous and absurd.. I’m hesitant to call Schumer’s early comic minimization; her early comedy is textbook “white feminism” – feminist ideology centered around white, well-off, abled, cisgender women. White feminists fail to recognize, acknowledge, and respond to the problems faced by women of color and/or women with less privileges. In writing on Sarah Silverman, Linda Misejewski mentions, “if Silverman uses the joke for a laugh, but the cost of the laugh is continued circulation of the slur, then she is exploiting the stereotype even if her intention is to puncture it” (Misejewski). That is, playful anti-PC humor, often put to use by the white female comic to parody an ignorant white female persona, tests the boundaries of what is considered “joke” and “not-joke.” Furthermore, we must consider the positionality of the audience – are they laughing at Schumer’s ignorant persona and explicit expression of racism because they recognize it as irony, or are they laughing with the ignorant persona in agreement of the racist joke, not recognizing the irony?

Another “edgy” bit on race occurs in Schumer’s 2012 special Mostly Sex Stuff, which she performed a sample of on the Conan O’Brien show in 2011. “I’m not racist at all, by the way. I mean, racism, it’s an issue! You know?” She says this straight-faced, but wide-eyed and innocent, in a sweet voice. “We have to deal with it. Like I was talking about this the other day. I was hanging out with all my black friend…and…and I’m like Tamembe, or whatever,” She puts her hand on her hip and shifts uncomfortably, eyes still wide, “Um, let’s talk about it. And what was she saying? She was like girl, like girl, like I couldn’t understand her but she was pissed! I’m like, stop yelling! We’re not at the movies!” She laughs wildly, still wide-eyed.

The bodily aesthetics of Schumer’s performance indicate irony – the childish wide eyes, the self-righteous hand-on-hip placement, and her exaggerated, superficial laughter. What makes this playful parody confusing, of course, is Schumer’s own positionality as a well-off white woman – to what extent can a white comic aggressively joke about race and get away with it (even when the intentions are to examine the absurdity of racist statements), especially when that expression of prejudice benefits her own position in society? To what extent is this examination of racism a deconstruction, and to what extent does it merely replicate and perpetuate the racist sentiments she intends to critique?

Gregory Bateson’s “Theories of Play and Fantasy” states that play involves a series of actions and metacommunications exchanged between conscious beings that relay the message: “this is play.” For example, if a dog and a human are engaged in playful combat, “the playful nip denotes the bite, but does not denote what would be denoted by the bite” (Bateson 317). The more aggressive the play becomes, however, the more ambiguous the metacommunications become between the conscious beings. Threat becomes a more “serious” extension of play: “the clenched fist of threat is different from the punch, but it refers to the possible future (but at present nonexistent) punch” (Bateson 318).

These actions and metacommunications are filtered through play frames, or premises. Frames create a “premise” for play by allowing the audience to evaluate the messages that are relayed through a certain lens. If Amy Schumer is telling a playful joke, for example, the frame through which the joke is evaluated involves the positioning of her body, the pitch of her voice, and the intricacies of her facial expression. The play frame “assists the mind in understanding the contained messages by reminding the thinker that these messages are mutually relevant and the messages outside the frame may be ignored” (323). To apply this to comedy, the frame allows the audience to interpret the language of the joke as ironic or non-ironic.

If, as Bateson describes, “the play of two individuals on a certain occasion would then new defined as the set of all messages exchanged by them within a limited period of time and modified by the paradoxical premise system which we have described” (322), then Schumer’s stand-up, framed by the aesthetics of her body and voice, is a series of plays actions exchanged between two individuals that are inhabited within her one body: her rationalized, serious “self” and her ironic “non-self.”


Rationalized, Serious “Self” Ironic, Playful “Non-Self”
Voice lower in pitch Voice higher in pitch
Palm outstretched Exaggerated, large movements
Voice even Vocal fry, superficial laughter
Closer, intimate shots Full body shots to capture full spectacle
Eyes squinted or normal size Wide eyes

And yet, even if Schumer makes a point of emphasizing that her “non-self” persona is indeed ironic, when or why she is being ironic is not always clearly communicated. Since both her “self” and “non-self” personas are communicated in her one body, and she switches quickly back and forth between her performance of these personas, the audience may become confused about the ambiguity of her performance’s message. It is Schumer’s intention to initially elicit disgust from the audience – she wants the audience to both react negatively to and discuss her performance of ignorance. In addition, according to A. Peter McGraw’s benign-violation theory of humor, ; therefore the violation aspect of the ignorant joke is what elicits a bodily reaction – laughter – and the benign aspect of the joke – irony – is what makes the audience stay and continue to listen to Schumer’s comedy (McGraw). Of course, even though the shock and violation aspect of the joke contributes to its effectiveness, it also contributes to its potential negative effect on members of the audience who may be the butt of the joke. Bateson writes:

A man experiences the full intensity of subjective terror when a spear is flung at him out of the 3D screen or when he falls headlong from some peak created in his own mind in the intensity of nightmare…these images did not denote that which they seemed to denote, but these same images did really evoke that terror which would have been evoked by a real spear or a real precipice (319).

When Schumer tells an ironic racist joke, what is the effect on a member of the audience who is a person of color? Even if the audience member of color recognizes that the joke is playful, ironic, and meant to parody the persona of a racist white girl, the initial reaction might be one of pain, anger, and/or rejection. In addition, Schumer’s jokes also become available to be re-appropriated by listeners in a non-ironic fashion, especially when they become available in a mediated comedy special to be re-played, memorized, and incorporated into everyday speech. Schumer’s comedy, therefore, is available to be fed into a series of available, appropriable microaggressions that perpetuate and enforce a racist system that benefits her as a white woman, even if that was not her original intention.

Her ironic white-girl ignorant persona has certainly generated discussion. Amy Schumer expresses a certain ambivalence in regards to joking about race. She has been oft criticized for racism in her comedy, and she knows. Guardian writer Monica Heisey has said of Schumer’s comedy, “Schumer’s stand-up repeatedly delves into racial territory tactlessly and with no apparent larger point….much of her character’s dumb slut persona is predicated on the fact that the men she sleeps with are people of colour.” At first, Schumer defended her jokes about race, but she has since realized that if she wants support from her mostly liberal audience, this is not the best route.  In 2015, she tweeted a response to someone criticizing her Hispanic guys joke:

Thank you so much for asking. I wrote this joke 2 years ago. I used to do a lot of short dumb jokes like this. I played a dumb white girl character on stage. I still do sometimes. Once I realized I had more eyes and ears on me and had an influence I stopped telling jokes like that on stage. I am evolving as an artist. I am taking responsibility and hope I haven’t hurt anyone. And I apologize it I did. Thanks again for asking (Staff, THR).

As her audience has expanded, her comedy has become a bit less edgy. Race, once discussed ironically and often in her stand-up, for example, is noticeably absent from The Leather Special – once prevalent in her comedy, race as a topic has seemingly “disappeared” from her material altogether. This is a safe move. In The Leather Special, Schumer’s persona is a bit more wise, and a bit more calculated. As she says, “I’ve gotten very rich, famous, and humble” – she knows that she cannot get away with explicitly racist jokes anymore, and they are noticeably absent from her comedy. Jokes about race at all seem to be absent from her comedy – but this does not mean that her comedy is not implicitly racist and directed toward a certain (exclusive) group of people.

Schumer is a careful architect of the audience space that she has created – this space is largely dominated by white, cis, heterosexual, able, and female bodies. For this portion of the population, she acts as an advisory, comforting big sister to these subjects. In The Leather Special, for example, she directly addresses body image issues surrounding women, putting her own body on display. “You know what? I don’t know if you guys noticed…” She waves her hands in the air and twirls around, showing off her body. The camera pans around the back of her, so we are watching the audience watch her twirl around, body under full inspection under the bright lights. “But I am what Hollywood calls… ‘very fat!’” Her eyes widen, and she waves both her hands above her head. There are a few hoots from the audience. She puts her hand to her heart and furrows her brow. “No, you guys know me, I feel very good in my own skin. I feel strong. I feel healthy -” We hear cheers from the audience. “I do! I feel sexy.” She puts her hand on her hip, and the camera pans behind her from right to left, giving us (the Netflix audience) a full view of both the live audience cheering and of Schumer’s tight leather-clad backside.

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There are whistles in the audience. “Also, like, my dad has MS and is in a wheelchair, and it’s like, I’m just so psyched I can fucking move, you know? I’m just like, fuck you. How are you gonna complain?” Her voice becomes heightened and feminized – not unlike Louis C.K.’s “abject girl” voice. “‘Oh what? This, how do I get rid -’ shut the fuck up!” Her voice becomes lower in pitch, but she’s shouting. “You’re alive.” We get a shot of the audience cheering from behind Schumer again. The camera returns to a close-up as she continues speaking. “You can move and we feel good. And you know, I bought into it, because when I was doing my first movie, Trainwreck, they said, somebody explained to me, like, ‘Just so you know, Amy, no pressure, but if you weigh over 140 pounds it will hurt people’s eyes.’”

Schumer’s heightened, feminized, even “monstrous” voice is very similar to Louis C.K.’s “abject girl” voice, in which he positions the young girl who “goes to clubs” as the unattractive, jarring, “anti-me” abject. The heightened voice in Schumer’s bit indicates that she is talking about a girl, and that the girl is being positioned as abject, but for a different reason than in C.K.’s bit. The politics of Schumer’s girl-abject are implicitly more complex, particularly as this girl-abject is a raced imaginary being. She has clarified and confirmed this outside of the comedy space, in more serious interviews. In an interview with Schumer on CBS Sunday Morning, Mo Rocca mentions, “It seems like you’re harder on no one more so than white girls.” Schumer responds: “Well, yeah, well they’re the worst. A lot of those girls will come up to me and they’ll be like, ‘Oh my God, like I’m you. Like I’m literally you. No, you’re who I’m a parody of.”

“Definitely more than anyone it’s white women in their twenties and thirties,” Schumer continues. Her sister Kim, who writes for Amy’s show Inside Amy Schumer, chimes in, “Just not having to take responsibility for what happens to them and around them.”

“And just to think that the universe is thinking about you,” Schumer finishes.

By satirizing the abject, but also by positioning herself as the abject, Schumer’s comedy is less of a simple condemnation of white women and more of an education of white women. By positioning white cis heterosexual women as both the subjects and objects under scrutiny in her comedy, she creates a space in which this demographic is included, but is included for the purposes of education.

What is interesting is although Schumer positions the white, cis, heterosexual woman in her twenties and thirties as abject, this “anti-me” is still a representative of herself. The white cis heterosexual woman is a paradoxical subject-abject, in a sense. She is the object under scrutiny, but the space is still centered around her as a “learning” and growing subject.

And, while Schumer does position white heterosexual women as abjects, she still encourages them as active heterosexual subjects. Heterosexual sex is a large part of Schumer’s comedy, and part of her “big sister” persona is to use a woman’s point of view regarding heterosexual sex to render it ridiculous, and to subvert male-dominated views of heterosexual sex.

In The Leather Special, Schumer tells the audience about a moment in which an interviewer asked her, “What is it like to fuck you?” Schumer often jokes about her “extensive” sexual experience, so the implicit assumption made with that question is that Schumer is particularly skilled and dominating in bed. Schumer denies this assumption in The Leather Special. The camera shot is from the waist up: “But I told him, and I will tell you guys exactly what it’s like to fuck me.” She holds her arms out to the side, bent as if in preparation, and sighs deeply. “Have you ever seen…” She pauses slightly, and adjusts her footing. The camera angle changes to slightly below her, so we can see both her full body and the audience. “…Somebody standing on a box, painted all silver in a town square?” She bends over to the side, sticking her arm out comically in statue form and parting her lips slightly. The audience laughs as they realize where the joke is headed. The camera zooms in toward her body, getting a shot from the waist up again. “And you don’t know if they’re alive or not…” She deadpans. For a few seconds, she says nothing and remains in the position, eliciting more laughter from the live audience.

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The camera pans around her, giving the Netflix audience a full sweeping view of her immobile body. “…But every once in a while it’s like ‘boop!’” Her hand suddenly moves, “And you’re like, ‘oh, it’s a person!’” She raises her body back up into normal standing position. “That’s what it’s like to fuck me. That’s it. Like a street performer mime in a town square,” She says sheepishly, squinting her eyes slightly. “Except no one’s ever given me a dollar.” She squints and shakes her head in mock confusion.

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Her voice lowers to let the audience know that she’s “getting real” with them. “I don’t do shit. I lay there. I either lay on my back, like that,” She lifts her foot up and raises her arms as the camera cuts to a full body shot, affording the Netflix audience a full view of her body once again, “Or if I want to blow his fucking mind?” She pauses for dramatic effect. “Sometimes I lay on my stomach just like this.” She turns around and covers her eyes dramatically. After retaining this position for a few seconds, she turns her head around, her eyes wide, eyebrows creased, and mouth open in mock horror. The camera cuts to a waist up intimate shot again so that we catch this expression in its full glory. The intimate shot, juxtaposed with the jarring horror on Schumer’s face, adds to the comedic effect of the joke. Her face returns – briefly – back to normal as she interjects. “Cums right away, just -” Her face contorts in horror again as the audience roars. The camera cuts to a shot of white women in the audience bent over slightly from laughter.

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Per usual, Schumer is unafraid to position her body as the center of spectacle – body comedy is at the center of the work. She contorts her face, stumbles around on stage, and is unafraid to pant in mock exhaustion. Though the body is spectacle, this bodily spectacle is used as a tactic to render heterosexual sex as mundane – from the woman’s point of view. The intended audience of the joke is other women who can relate to feeling self-conscious about not incorporating the “mind-blowing sex techniques” advertised in women’s magazines (Gill). The intended message of the joke is that sex is hilariously mundane. This is a tactic that I will label as the mundane-spectacle binary: the female comic positions her body in ways of spectacle to render heterosexual sex as mundane, and to elicit laughter from a female heterosexual audience.

Stand-up comedy is deeply personal and auteurist – the audience is meant to believe that the content of the material reflects the life and beliefs of the performer/creator of the material. Therefore, heterosexual comics are generally limited to their own experiences if they plan to talk about sexuality. If we recall McGraw’s Benign-Violation Theory, a large part of what makes a bit “humorous” is the violation of pre-existing social norms/cues. This violation, of course, must be benign, or socially acceptable, enough to keep the audience in their seats. We could consider heterosexuality itself, the subject of the material, as the “benign” part of the bit; heterosexual relationships are generally accepted as a socially endorsed insitution. The violation, therefore, comes from the explicitness with which Schumer talks about “taboo” topics regarding heterosexuality, such as sex, portraying them in grotesque fashion.

Schumer’s demonstration of the mundane-spectacle binary continues throughout the bit, as she explores the more raunchy side of her humor. The camera cuts into an intimate shot from the shoulders up as Schumer pauses. “My boyfriend usually cums in me.” The audience laughs, and the camera cuts to a large shot of the full audience from the side, reminding us of the large number of people listening at the live event. We cut back to Schumer. “He usually comes in me, but sometimes, you wanna mix it up. Right? You gotta have fun.” There’s a whistle from the audience. “We’ll be having sex, and then he’ll ask my favorite question,” She pauses for dramatic effect, “Where should I cum?” She moves her hand in front of her body as she emphasizes each word, as if drawing out or diagramming the sentence. The audience laughs and her eyes widen and close in ironic pleasure. She holds her arm out to the side and opens her mouth, ironically acting as if she is honored. “First of all, I’m like, ‘Thank you for thinking of me. Like…’” She scrunches her body in and raises her voice ironically, “‘How did I even come up in your thoughts?’ And…” On the “and,” she returns to her normal, lower voice, emphasizing a return to seriousness. She widens her eyes in amazement. “‘Where should I cum?’ As a comic, I want to fuck around and be like, ‘In this jar!’” She shouts this, pulls out an imaginary jar from behind her back, and proceeds to half-stumble, half-run around the stage, holding out the jar. “I’m just like…” As she continues to run around, the camera cuts to a shot of the audience laughing. This shot features mostly white women, but also an Asian woman laughing in the center of the shot (we could compare this inclusion of diversity to the cover of a college brochure – as if to communicate, “look, there’s an Asian woman here and laughing too!”).

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We cut back to Schumer. “‘Where should I cum?’” She says almost majestically, emphasizing each word once again. She belches, and the audience laughs in response. We hear a whistle from the audience. “What do you think…what do you think? There are three answers, right? If you’re lying on your back, what are the three responses?” The next sequence involves a series of audience interactions, in which she receives two suggestions – “your butt” and “your head” – both of which she mocks as either requiring effort or as unpleasurable. Finally, someone shouts, “tits,” to which she responds, “Yes, good answer,” pointing at the audience member. “Your tits. And you have to say it like you’re psyched about it.” The camera cuts to a full body shot of Schumer from the right side, so we can see her feet moving, as if in preparation for acting “psyched” about it. “‘Where should I cum?’ You have to go, ‘My titties!’” The camera cuts intimately close from the chest up again. As she says my titties, she whips her head towards the audience, eyes wide as if deranged. Her voice is raised and feminized – a caricature. She puffs her chest outward and nods her head as the audience laughs – this is to denote that she is clearly not thrilled about the situation, but feels as if in sex, she has to out on a performance in order to “change it up” and satisfy the man that she is with.

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“And he goes, ‘Are you sure?’ And you’re like, ‘Uh-huhh!’” She groans loudly and monstrously, eyes still wide. “‘Mm-hmm. I love it! I love it.’” As she shouts this, the words seem to slide out of her – her tongue lolls out of her mouth, as if she is forcefully ejecting the words from herself. The over-sexualized young woman, the anti-person, is once again her abject – it is not how Schumer truly feels on the inside – it is a false persona that she feels the demands of heterosexual sex requires. The camera cuts to a further, full body shot. She throws her arm out to the side dismissively, rolling her eyes.“I hate not having cum on my tits.”  I just…walking around all day, I’m at the bank, zero cum on my tits. Ugh.” She stumbles around in mock misery. “My titties.” She scrunches up her face and uses the mocking feminized voice once again. The camera cuts in close again, and her voice lowers, as if telling a secret. “I also love the question because of the confidence of it, right?” She raises her eyebrows and squints slightly. “‘Where should I cum?’ I don’t know about you guys. I’ve never dated anyone with American Sniper type accuracy?” She shrugs, and we can hear the audience laughing in the background. “Where I could be like, ‘Right here!’” She shouts suddenly, bending her body to the side, bending her elbow, and sticking out her palm as if providing a target. Her eyes are wide and her mouth stern, posing a challenge. “‘Hit the moving target!’” She says in a fake Cockney accent, moving her palm back and forth, once again positioning her body as spectacle. The camera pans around her as the audience continues laughing, and then cuts in closer once again. ““I’m like, ‘Okay, Katniss, um…’” She sighs. These ridiculous “potential situations” (which include Schumer running around with a jar to catch cum like rain, and Schumer encouraging a man to ejaculate at a moving target) further emphasize the mundane trials and tribulations of heterosexual sex from a (heterosexual) woman’s point of view.

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What is the effect of using the mundane-spectacle binary to parody heterosexual sex? If we recall, postfeminist sensibility, as defined by Rosalind Gill, emphasizes that the sensibility in media culture (especially in magazines, television shows, commercials, and films intended to be directed “for women”) includes the notion that femininity is a bodily property, a shift from objectification to subjectification of women, an emphasis upon self-surveillance, monitoring, and discipline, and a sexualization of culture (Gill). The result of the combination of these factors is the message that women should find empowerment in becoming naturally willing and skilled sexual beings, and that they should maintain bodily femininity while giving off the illusion that their beauty is “natural.”

Instead, Schumer seems to find personal empowerment in exposing the efforts behind women’s sexuality and in positioning herself as non-feminine, and even monstrous, in sex using a combination of grotesque, absurd bodily humor and self-deprecation. If, as Gill mentions, sex and “romance is one of the key narratives by which we are interpellated or inscribed as subjects,” (Gill 2006) then Schumer’s raunchy discussions of sex and love, in which women’s experiences are at the center, further inscribes heterosexual young women as subjects who are able to receive education, comfort, and validation from her comedy.

Schumer’s stand-up comedy has a ways to go before she makes radically progressive statements – especially regarding race. For a mainstream audience, however, Schumer is careful to make her comedy palatable and progressive “enough” for a mainly white, cis, and well-off female audience.

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Bateson, Gregory. “A theory of play and fantasy.” The Game Design Reader. A rules of play anthology (2006): 314-328.

Gill, Rosalind. “Postfeminist Media Culture: Elements of a Sensibility.” European Journal of Cultural Studies 10.2 (2007): 147-66. Web.

Gill, Rosalind. “Postfeminist Romance.” Gender and the Media. Cambridge: Polity, 2013. N. pag. Print.

Glick, Peter, and Susan T. Fiske. “An ambivalent alliance: Hostile and benevolent sexism as complementary justifications for gender inequality.” American Psychologist 56.2 (2001): 109.

Lowrey, Lacy, Valerie R. Renegar, and Charles E. Goehring. ““When God Gives You AIDS… Make Lemon-AIDS”: Ironic Persona and Perspective by Incongruity in Sarah Silverman’s Jesus is Magic.” Western Journal of Communication 78.1 (2014): 58-77.

Johnson, Kevin. “Q&A: Amy Schumer’s ‘Cutting’ Comedy Act Is Coming to Lumière.” N.p., 10 Feb. 2012. Web. 21 July 2017.

Krefting, Rebecca. “Laughter in the Final Instance: The Cultural Economy of Humor (Or why women aren’t perceived to be as funny as men).” The Laughing Stalk : Live Comedy and Its Audiences. Ed. Judith Batalion, Anderson, South Carolina, Parlor Press, 2012.

Kristeva, Julia. Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection. New York, NY: Columbia U, 2010. Print.

McGraw, A. Peter, and Caleb Warren. “Benign violations: Making immoral behavior funny.” Psychological Science 21.8 (2010): 1141-1149.

Mizejewski, Linda. Pretty/Funny: Women Comedians and Body Politics. University of Texas Press, 2014.

Russell, Danielle. “Self-deprecatory Humour and the Female Comic: Self-destruction or Comedic Construction?” Third Space: A Journal of Feminist Theory and Culture. (November 2002): 43 pars. [ /articles/druss.htm].

Staff, THR. “Amy Schumer Apologizes for “Racist” Rape Joke About Hispanics: “I Am Taking Responsibility”.” The Hollywood Reporter. N.p., 07 July 2015. Web. 19 June 2017.

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