[Editor’s note: I published this essay on my personal blog, but because it touches on a recent local comedy performance, I thought I’d cross-post it here as well.]
Let me start by saying I’m a big fan. (I originally wrote “huge,” but that word feels like it’s been co-opted by a certain Presidential candidate lately.)
I love the unapologetic feminism that runs through your work; I admire the candor with which you revealed tough things about yourself and your life in your book, “The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo” (which I pre-ordered and read immediately); and there’s no small number of sketches from your Comedy Central show that I’ve watched and howled at repeatedly (“Football Town Nights,” “12 Angry Men Inside Amy Schumer,” “Lunch at O’Nutters,” “Last F**kable Day,” “Girl, You Don’t Need Makeup,” and “Compliments” – which actually helped alter my own reflexive, self-deprecating behavior).
So when your stand-up comedy tour stop in Detroit was announced several months ago, I got so antsy about getting tickets that I checked out on a big group of lady-friends who were figuring out what they could and were willing to pay in terms of ticket levels, how many would go, etc., in order to cash in on the pre-sale. I did not want to miss this show, and I wanted a good seat.
I loved hearing about the public response to your nearly-nude photo shoot, and your Ritz cracker binge blackout, and the food poisoning that you and your boyfriend experienced during a romantic trip to Paris. But you quickly got frustrated with the crowd when you ventured into commentary about gun control and felt us shutting down. You mentioned outright that we were offering more resistance to that portion of your act than any audience had previously – and that for that reason, you were going to keep pushing and go even further down that road, as the best comedians do when sensing discomfort in their audience. READ THE REST HERE