In the Church of Woke, there is no greater, more unbearable, or unforgivable sin than telling the truth. Comedy, satire, in particular, succeeds by this very mechanism. Speaking the irreverent, public mockery and shrewd castigation of staunchly held, virtuous twaddle releases our collective, self-inflicted constipation—the pressure to be a "good person" or at least to maintain all appearances of being so. The late Barry Humphries, most known by his beloved stage character as Dame Edna Everidge, was a trendsetting provocateur. Seeing the same snakes who sought to annul his illustrious career now backpedalling for public sympathy is neither vindicating nor satisfying to watch. Humphries's final, posthumous act will be the tonal shift from deprecating to commemorating in rags like The Guardian. Soy-weaned freaks like Owen Jones and his (wom)manlier counterpart in the gender studies division, Steph Harmon, contributed vilifying testimony to Barry’s witch trials, which they’d rather we forget.
Remember that Barry Humphries paved the path for gender-bending riffing long before Eddie Izzard masturbated on his first pair of pantyhose. However, the problem with Dame Edna was Barry's commitment to her as a character, not a personality or ideological belief, aside from, perhaps, an expression of campy, smothering, grandmotherly love. He was a performative transvestite; a heterosexual man with a few happy marriages—his third lasting over 20 years. When in public and not performing, he dressed and acted as what he was: a man. Of course, such patent truth-bearing is toxic to those who self-declare, with ruthless sincerity, that slipping on a frock makes them a woman physically and spiritually. Jesters like Barry test, toy with, and ultimately disassemble the illusion while flirting with the fantasy of gender as partially constructed and mutable.
This is not and will never be a woman. Pronouns are groom/er.
But the same is not true for sex, and Barry's unwillingness to support the evolving, malignant trans dogma became the cause of his social banishment. In a series of candid and witty interviews, he systematically "attacked" gender ideology. For example, he referred to gender reassignment surgery in boys as "castration," which it is. An orchiectomy and inversion of the penile tissue will lead to irreversible infertility. It does not make a neo-vagina or anything biologically functionally comparable to a vagina. Likewise, Barry called out "Woman of the Year" Caitlyn Jenner as a 'publicity-seeking ratbag.’ Which, while an accurate observation, wasn't favourably received. Barry even came to the defence of illustrious actor Geoffrey Rush; a man since exonerated from #metoo mania who has once again proven that history sifts the truth from the deceitful chaff.
Still, for the last few years, we couldn't say facts aloud, at least not as freely as now. Barry chose the unpopular, moral opinion when the push for moral obliviation was at its greatest potency. Celebrities say what's popular because it is easy, and they are weak and crave admiration. Forgoing that fawning takes a gutsy man, particularly with an established career. Alas, the gutless abound and far outweigh men and women of character. Take the Judas of Barry's career, the droll, wounded Hanna Gadsby who made another political, personal grievance into a performance when rejecting the Humphries's award for her specious talent. Sharing your trauma in a stoic monologue to a dead-panned audience is public therapy or an appeal for sympathy, not comedy.
Hanna's white knights have since leapt to the defence of their maiden for this five-year-old tweet, protections she surely resents as a modern woman. But we don't know what she thinks or feels because, for once, Hanna has demonstrated the good sense to remain silent. Regardless, there is no moratorium on cancellation; Kevin Hart, Dave Chapelle, and Ricky Gervais would all have something to say about that. But, curiously, the most failed name of that bunch, Kevin, was the one who pleaded mercy and sought acceptance from the intolerant mob. The other two never apologized and continued smashing career expectations, boundaries and taboos.
Because truth matters in the end, it forms your legacy or infamy. Without truth, comedy has no reference for irreverence; satire can't exist. Barry Humphries will be remembered as a trickster: charming, clever, unflappable and dead funny. Poor Hanna will just be dead.
—C
Thank you for writing this piece. Means a lot to many of us.