Have you seen the videos?
The woman proudly holds up a finished puzzle—delicate, intact—showing off how she managed to slide the whole thing into one piece. She beams, imagining how it might hang on the wall. And then, her partner walks over and punches it. Pieces fly. She flinches.
Or the wedding clip: the groom shoves cake into his bride’s face—so hard it’s in her eyes, her hair. Her expression shifts. She tries to laugh, but something about it doesn’t land. Maybe she’s embarrassed. Maybe she’s hurt. But the crowd is already laughing.
The comments?
“LOL”
“Classic.”
“It’s just a joke.”
That kind of casual cruelty is everywhere. And we’ve been taught to laugh along.
Wrapped in humor, these moments get framed as harmless, but they infiltrate our closest relationships.
They shape what counts as “not a big deal,” what we’re allowed to feel hurt by, and when we’re expected to just “lighten up.”
If it feels bad, it feels bad.
If it hurts, it hurts.
If you don’t like it, you don’t like it.
Your feelings aren’t right or wrong. They’re information.
Your feelings are not the problem.
The normalization of this cruelty is.
When you go to your partner and say,
“I don’t like it when you do that. I feel hurt,”
and the response is:
“Other people think it’s funny.”
“You’re too sensitive.”
“It’s not that serious.”
“You’re the only one who has a problem with it.”
It’s erasure.
It doesn’t matter what other people feel.
You’re right there.
You’re expressing yourself.
That matters.
When we care about each other, that’s the bottom line.
So how do we push back on a culture that teaches us to shrug off harm?
That teaches us to laugh along when it stings?
We start by looking closer.
We ask: Who’s the butt of the joke?
Are we laughing at ourselves—or at someone who had no say?
Are we brushing it off because it’s easier than confronting the discomfort?
A critical eye can change culture.
Refusing to laugh when the guy at work makes a lazy dig at his wife.
Sitting in silence when someone tells a story meant to humiliate their partner “for laughs.”
Interrupting the story. Changing the subject. Pulling your face into neutrality instead of a chuckle.
Small things.
But powerful ones.
They shift the air.
Sure, some people like to be teased.
Some relationships thrive on sarcasm and roast-style love.
But consent, respect, and attunement are the difference between intimacy and injury.
We’ve been told not to take things so seriously.
But maybe it’s time to ask why.
Who benefits from brushing it off?
It’s usually not the person being laughed at.
Not the one biting their tongue.
Not the partner who walks away from the dinner table embarrassed again.
Jokes that normalize cruelty aren’t just jokes.
They’re more than that.
They uphold power.
They punch down.
They force the harmed to measure their anger, dilute their hurt, just to stay safe.
Minimizing harm protects the person doing it.
But naming it?
That’s where the power is.
Did this resonate? Check out this video over on IG.
Or this one, originally posted in August of 2021. (Slide 5. Forgive me, I’m still figuring out how to embed)