We were able to attened a very interesting news breifing, pulled together by American Community Media. And I think at this point, we could all use a bit of humor.
The March 6 briefing, “What Makes Us Laugh in Dark Times,” brought together Herbert Siguenza of Culture Clash, journalist and humorist Emil Amok Guillermo, and comedian and festival producer Samson Koletkar for a discussion that was certainly about comedy, but also covered the deeper topics that comedy may address covertly: fear, authority, censorship, and the how it feels to be in an environment when people say the unsayable.
In our newsroom and many others, the past several months have been marked by coverage of immigration enforcement affecting Native people and descendants, warnings over deep cuts to tribal funding, and broader struggles over who gets to define public memory and public speech. In this climate, perhaps humor can open up a few hardened hearts.
Pilar Marrero, associate editor at American Community Media, framed the conversation around a very pointed question: what does humor do when the news feels destabilizing?
Siguenza, an artist in residence at San Diego State University Arts Alive and a founding member of the long-running Chicano performance troupe Culture Clash, answered from within that tradition. “Humor is always a part of our culture,” he said, describing it not as ornament but as communal practice. He offered the example of a funeral, where grief and release exists in the same space.
The point was that communities often use laughter to regulate pain. It can help to acknowledge the absurd, and to remain present with one another when politics and daily life becomes heavy. Guillermo, a veteran journalist, poet laureate, and performer, made a related point. “Humor comes out of pain. Humor comes out of tension,” he said. “When it’s so tense and the pain is so real, that’s the perfect moment for humor.”
That argument has clear relevance in the news, where the pressure is often to stay strictly solemn while covering structurally violent policy.
Some of the biggest stories now moving through Native communities are already saturated with absurdity. Indigenous journalists are reporting on tribal citizens carrying identification to avoid being swept into immigration enforcement, on Native organizing against raids in Minnesota, and on the possibility of billions in losses to tribal climate, food, and health support.
These are the conditions in which satire begins to look for a home. It can expose hypocrisy faster than official language can conceal it. Koletkar, the co-founder of Desi Comedy Fest and founder of Comedy Oakland, put it plainly: “Humor is agreement. If I tell a joke and you laugh, it’s because you agree with me.” That is useful to remember in political time. A laugh is not always amusement. Sometimes it is recognition.
The strongest part of the briefing came when the panel stopped treating comedy as inherently noble. The speakers were more honest than that. Koletkar noted that comedians like to imagine themselves as truth tellers, but only “as long as people are laughing.” So it can be more complex. Humor can clarify, but it can also flatten. It can preserve culture, but it can also trade in caricature. The panel returned repeatedly to the question of audience.
Siguenza spoke from a bilingual Latino tradition. Guillermo talked about Filipino references that land differently depending on who is in the room. Koletkar described the difference between being spoken for and speaking for oneself. That point resonates in Indigenous journalism, where representational distortion is not a side issue. It is a permanent condition of coverage. Communities that have long been narrated by outsiders understand the stakes of who gets to make the joke, who gets reduced to one, and who has to live with the consequences after the room goes quiet.
There was also no confusion on the panel about power. Siguenza described political pressure on late-night hosts in blunt language: “That’s fascism 101, you shut down the comedians first.” And that's terrifying.
Whether or not you'd agrees with the formulation, the principle is familiar. Satire attracts retaliation because it is efficient. It can puncture an image that institutions have spent years constructing. In a year when American Community Media has also hosted briefings on censorship, erased histories, and the reclaiming of community narratives ahead of the country’s 250th anniversary, the discussion feels part of this larger media climate.
So if it can be quite powerful, when do we use humor? Siguenza was explicit that some subjects remain too raw for him, especially immigration enforcement and family separation. Humor isnt across-the-board and it certinaly is an individual preference about which topics to cover. That may mean that the role of humor would be to perform a wound for healing. Not all wounds can be healed that way. Laughter can release emotion, and pressure, but it is something we are also careful with.
Native humor has long been one of the most precise ways to register deep systemic problems. The panel offered was a broader language for this. Comedy may not solve everything, but it can be a way to get right to discuss some pressing topics with a different emotional register. And that can be uniting for communities, and offer a bit more light and hope to dark times.
If you're interested in supporting more Indigenous comics, here are a few links to thier webites!
Jackie Keliiaa Comedy https://www.youtube.com/channel/UC2pNJ7ADVphm4bxhnx7hCAw
Marc Yaffee https://laughwithmarc.com/
