Laughing Back: Humor as Resistance and Survival

Humor as Resistance: From Slavery to Irish Satire, and Across Cultures That Refuse to Stay Silent

RJ Starr

When I first saw that this month’s theme was humor, I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because I knew how heavy that word really is. Humor is often treated as light, a distraction, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized it carries weight. It is not only a way to laugh in easier times, but it is also a way to endure the unbearable. That is how I arrived at this subject and this title: humor is not just amusement, it is resistance, and survival.

I have seen this firsthand. Years ago, I visited a friend in the hospital who was battling a serious illness. The room smelled faintly of antiseptic, and no one was making eye contact. You could hear the clatter of a food tray in the hallway, but inside it was too quiet, as if we were all waiting for permission to exhale. Then she looked at me, smiled weakly, and said, “At least the hospital food is preparing me for heaven, because it is definitely not meant for the living.” Everyone laughed, not because the situation was trivial, but because that moment of humor gave us permission to breathe again. It was a reminder that dignity could be maintained, even in the shadow of suffering.

Psychologists have long studied why humor arises in moments of hardship. Freud described humor as a “mature defense mechanism,” a way to face reality without collapsing under it. More recently, Rod Martin’s research on humor styles showed that people who use affiliative or self-enhancing humor cope with stress more effectively and report higher levels of psychological well-being. In one study, patients with chronic illness who incorporated humor into their daily lives showed improved mood regulation and lower levels of anxiety compared to those who did not. Humor, in other words, is not a frivolous extra; it is a psychological necessity.

The Psychology of Humor in Hardship

Laughter transforms pain into something that can be carried. Modern psychology explains this through cognitive reappraisal, the process by which the mind reframes a situation to change its emotional impact. A soldier’s dry remark in the middle of combat or a patient’s joke during chemotherapy are not escapes from reality; they are acts of reclaiming reality. By making light of what threatens them, people can regain a sense of agency over the story being lived.

The body echoes this transformation. Laughter lowers cortisol, the hormone that keeps the body on high alert. It stimulates endorphins, the chemicals that promote relief and even joy. Studies have shown that after laughter, blood pressure drops, muscles unclench, and the nervous system shifts from survival mode into a state of balance. A laugh does not cure the wound, but it loosens the grip of fear, and that shift can mean everything.

The social dimension may be the most vital of all. A shared laugh signals that we are in this together. In family waiting rooms, in classrooms where students struggle under the weight of daily stress, and in neighborhoods facing discrimination, humor becomes a thread of solidarity. It does not erase pain, but it changes how that pain is carried, turning isolation into community.

When Humor Hides Pain

Not all humor heals. Sometimes, it protects us at the cost of honesty. Nervous laughter often slips out in moments of discomfort, signaling tension we cannot control. Shame laughter appears when people try to soften their own embarrassment, hoping to quiet judgment by smiling through it. Sarcasm and angry humor, while often sharp and clever, can shield deep insecurity or resentment.

I once had a graduate student who gave a presentation while visibly anxious. She stumbled on her words, then laughed at herself. The tension cracked, and I watched as her peers leaned in and smiled with her. That laughter didn’t erase her fear, but it shifted the atmosphere, reminding everyone that imperfection is part of being human. Humor carried her through. By contrast, another student admitted that she often resorted to sarcasm in discussions when she felt exposed. It gave her a sense of control. But she later told me that sarcasm also left her isolated, because classmates stopped opening up to her. The very strategy she thought kept her safe was also keeping her apart. Humor is powerful, but it is not always innocent. It can protect, it can connect, and it can also divide.

Humor as a Cultural Survival Strategy

Cultures under strain have always found ways to laugh, not in denial, but in defiance. African American humor, forged during slavery and carried forward through segregation and beyond, became a coded language of endurance. Folktales, jokes, and sly wordplay exposed the absurdity of racism while affirming identity. Humor preserved dignity when dignity was under attack. I’ve seen this dynamic in my own classrooms too, when students from marginalized communities use a joke to cut through heavy silence. The humor is often quick, sharp, and more than a joke—it’s a declaration that they belong.

Jewish humor offers another striking example. In the face of centuries of persecution, Jewish communities developed a tradition of self-deprecating wit and irony. By laughing at themselves before others could, they robbed hatred of some of its sting. More than survival, this humor became a declaration of resilience: the community could still laugh; therefore, it could still endure.

Other cultures tell the same story. The Irish, under British rule, turned to satire and storytelling as subtle resistance. In apartheid South Africa, comedians and playwrights highlighted contradictions in a system built on oppression, offering truth through laughter when truth was otherwise dangerous. In Latin America, political cartoons and street theater mocked dictators and exposed corruption, keeping the spirit of dissent alive. Indigenous communities across the world have also relied on humor, blending storytelling and wit to maintain cultural identity in the face of colonization.

Political humor remains a survival strategy across the globe. Satire in authoritarian regimes circulates quietly, sometimes only as whispered jokes, sometimes as bold sketches or memes that strip leaders of their seriousness. The psychology here is clear: humor reclaims the power to name reality. By laughing at authority, communities remind themselves that power is never absolute.

Humor and Power Dynamics

Power often relies on seriousness, and seriousness demands obedience. A well-placed joke disrupts this performance, shifting the balance of authority. Social psychology research shows that humor can redistribute status, even if only momentarily, because it levels the playing field. Those who are feared become objects of laughter, and in that reversal, dignity is restored to those who resist.

Mockery can be cruel when it aims downward at the vulnerable, but when laughter points upward at institutions and figures of authority, it becomes a form of resistance. Protest movements know this well. Online memes that poke fun at politicians or exaggerated comedy sketches that expose hypocrisy are not trivial entertainment; they are emotional strategies of empowerment. What seems humorous is also profoundly serious, because it breaks the emotional spell of intimidation.

When people laugh at what was meant to terrify them, fear loses its grip. Once the image of power is made ridiculous, its authority weakens, even if the external structures remain intact. Humor, therefore, does not simply soothe; it subverts. It becomes a way of reimagining what control means and who holds it.

Humor as Human Dignity

The deepest role of humor is not distraction, but dignity. Viktor Frankl, reflecting on his time in concentration camps, wrote that humor was “another of the soul’s weapons in the fight for self-preservation.” He and fellow prisoners would invent comic stories, not because their circumstances allowed for joy, but because humor reminded them that they still possessed freedom of spirit.

Contemporary trauma research affirms this. Survivors often describe moments when laughter returned unexpectedly, and those moments often marked the first step toward healing. Humor does not deny grief; it honors it by refusing to let grief have the last word.

Shared laughter in dark times is never shallow. It is a declaration: we are still here. It stitches communities back together, keeps identity intact, and makes survival not only possible, but human. Humor never erases injustice. What it does is transform the way injustice is carried. To laugh together in the shadow of sorrow is not weakness, but courage.

That is why this month, when we think about humor, I return to the image of my friend in that hospital bed, smiling as she mocked her meal and made the room laugh. It was a small joke, yet it was filled with power. I still hear my friend’s voice when I think about what humor really means. A weak smile, a bad joke, and the whole room exhaled. That is survival. That is dignity. That is the proof that even in suffering, we remain fully alive.

About the Author:

RJ Starr & Pepper

RJ Starr is a psychology educator and author whose work bridges human stories with psychological insight. He also hosts The Psychology of Us, a podcast exploring how we endure, connect, and grow. Learn more at profRJstarr.com.