Joking as Vocation

Saying “just joking” don’t make it a joke, y’all — for realz!

People say all humor stems from a kernel of truth. Practical jokers are often seen as people who have insecurities, who work them out in the soft “abuse” of shock, surprise and knocking others off center. I’ve been notorious for it. I owed the phrase “just kidding.” It’s been such a part of who I am that my name became synonymous with enigmatic behavior and statements. I express myself in riddles and hold up funhouse mirrors to the world around me. I’ve been a real asshole about it too, with reactions to my jibes gamuting nervous giggles to a punch in the face.

I was just joking. That doesn’t mean I didn’t intend to rouse people with my word games and eccentricities. I fit all the definitions too, not just the cute harmless cut up. I am the card that doesn’t quite fit in the playing deck, accept as a wild card. I have been the person of disrepute. I am the clause added that makes everything else seem pointless. What I didn’t know then, that I know now, was that I was playing an essential role, although a thankless one.

The European depiction of joker (jester, fool, etc.) has the character basically shucking and jiving for royalty. They brought a little merriment to an otherwise dull court life. The joker was also the person who brought the bad news to the monarch. That tradition in Africa (especially the Wolof) and among indigenous tribes of Turtle Island (AKA the Americas) are a role in service of the whole community. Their role includes saying the shit that other people are afraid to say. They are the social critics.

I didn’t appoint myself joker. I am the culmination of a blood line of survivors who likely had to be clever AF to survive the trials that beset my ancestors. “Shining” described the act put on by Africans in captivity (and forced into labor) to appease their captors and stave off harsh punishment or even death. Mel Watkins breaks down the whole tradition of Black humor in their book “Laughing, Lying, and Signifying.” The movie Dolemite Is My Name depicts real-life comedian Rudy Ray Moore who signified their way to stardom.

I ain’t saying I’m special, other than we all special or we wouldn’t be here. The Universe is efficient and doesn’t waste time or energy. Every community, family, or whatever group will likely give birth to a joker. Jokers are “black sheep” and trouble makers. They are critical thinkers, exploiting the contradictions around them. I’ve been lucky enough to find a line of work where being the Joker is a privileged position. I use joking techniques as a teacher, as a director and as a Theater of the Oppressed facilitator. Like I said, I’m notorious for it. Mind your fingers and toes.

—Notorious Pink

Pink Flowers

Pink Flowers is a Black trans artist, peacemaker, educator, and pleasure activist whose work lives at the intersection of embodiment, governance, and cultural transformation. Trained in Theater of the Oppressed, Art of Hosting, and Navajo-informed Peacemaking practices, Pink designs spaces where conflict can be addressed, power can be examined, and joy can be reclaimed.

Her artistic and pedagogical practice draws from African trickster cosmology, Brazilian Joker traditions, shamanic ritual, and cooperative economics. She is the founder of the award-winning Falconworks Theater Company (2005–2021), which used popular theater to build civic capacity and participatory leadership in historically marginalized communities.

Pink served for over five years as a trained Peacemaker in the Red Hook Community Justice Center in Brooklyn, facilitating restorative processes within the New York City court system. From 2015–2018, she worked in cooperative business development with the Center for Family Life, supporting worker-owned enterprises in immigrant communities.

She currently serves as Director of Education and Training for the Inter-Cooperative Council in Ann Arbor, where she leads leadership development and conflict engagement initiatives. Her work has been presented nationally and internationally, including at the Stretch Festival in Berlin and the Pedagogy and Theatre of the Oppressed Conference.

Across ritual, performance, mediation, and institutional design, Pink’s work asks a central question:

What becomes possible when we refuse shame and choose conscious power instead?

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