Unpredictable violence, political instability, and civil war: It would seem there are few places in the world less funny than Iraq. But that doesn't stop Iraqis from cracking jokes about it. Iraqi April Fool's Day—locally known as "April Lie"—is an occasion for enthusiastic pranks, some of which are truly macabre: This year a student convinced his classmates that their poetry teacher had been assassinated and a woman fooled her husband's family into thinking he had been arrested and detained by the Americans.
It seems ghoulish, but joking about danger and death in some circumstances is a crucial coping mechanism, not a sign of mental instability. Doctors and emergency medical technicians are famous for gallows humor. Paramedics who tell morbid jokes have lower stress and less burnout than those who don't, one study found. It's never been studied rigorously, so it's hard to know exactly how this kind of humor functions, but "having a laugh in the face of death or extreme hardship can certainly have a place in healthy coping," says Tyler Stillman, a social psychologist at Florida State University. "Humor allows people to detach from extremely trying circumstances and attach to other people to get through difficult times." Stillman has found that it's often prompted by situations in which we seek social support—including wars and other catastrophes.
Anyone whose life circumstances or job description puts them in close touch with mortality may develop a particularly morbid sense of humor as a way to decompress: Megan Wolff, a doctoral student in the history of public health, says that she and her colleagues often swap stories about their favorite disasters—how many died and whether their deaths were shockingly quick or horrifyingly slow. "Everybody will always name their favorite disaster right off the bat, and they're pretty chipper about it," she says. "My colleague is hugely excited about a flood in which thousands were killed. I'm excited about the Spanish Flu."
Wolff also leads historical tours of the Lower East Side of Manhattan, telling the stories of immigrants who lived in the famous 19th-century urban ghetto. Her audiences are especially fascinated by details of the filth and disease that were facts of life back then—the outhouses built for eight that served dozens or hundreds, the surgeries that took place on kitchen tables. Pigs served as the Sanitation Department—not a bad strategy, except that when their garbage supply ran out, they'd go after small children.
"When you start talking about something gruesome, you can get people who otherwise don't care to pay attention," she says. "It's the details that make you shudder that also make you laugh."
Not Tonight, Dear—or Ever
I'm not into sex.
A dearth of carnal urges is a common side effect of our sleep-deprived nights and frenzied days. But for some, not wanting sex is a permanent state of being. Cijay Morgan, a 46-year-old Canadian teacher of English as a foreign language, is one of a small number of people who describe themselves as "asexual." She has never been interested in sex. "I didn't really think about it until all of my friends started becoming sexually aware," she says. In adolescence, it became clear to her that she was fundamentally different.
Many unhappy couples struggle with low sexual desire in their relationships, but their frustration stems from the fact that they remember—and miss—their intense physical attraction. Other people have traumatic experiences such as abuse or rape that make them wary. Morgan is not afraid of sex, and she doesn't miss it, either. She has romantic feelings for others that don't morph into lust. "I think about the person a lot," is how she describes it. "I think how nice it would be to take a trip with them or just walk while holding hands and enjoying each other's company."
Her situation is not common: One comprehensive survey found that only about 1 percent of the population has never felt any sexual attraction toward another person. But while asexuals are certainly outliers, they don't necessarily have a problem unless they see it that way, suggests Irwin Goldstein, M.D., founder of San Diego Sexual Medicine, an interdisciplinary sexual health clinic. In his work, social and psychological expectations are just as important as physical responses. He describes a patient he's just started treating who grew up in a conservative family in the Middle East. During her first marriage, this woman never wanted sex, but didn't worry about it—she believed that women weren't supposed to enjoy the act. When she remarried in middle age, though, her new husband wanted to please her. At age 49, for the first time in her life, her lack of sex drive felt like a problem, and she contacted Goldstein. "Nothing's different about this at all except a new husband, and a new understanding," he says.
Anthony Bogaert, a researcher in the departments of psychology and community health sciences at Brock University in Ontario, Canada, is one of the few researchers to systematically study asexuals. He suspects that prenatal conditions may account for their different sexual development, just as many researchers believe is true of gays. But, he says, that doesn't mean they need fixing. "If the person has the capacity to form romantic relations with individuals and does so, or if she or he doesn't form romantic relationships but is content," then nothing's really wrong.
Morgan says she's happy the way she is, although it's been difficult to convince others that she doesn't want to change. "Just about everyone worried more about my being 'alone' than I ever did." She has a close family and many friends. "I'm a very affectionate person. I'm surrounded by love."
Tags:
anguish,
assistant professor,
average person,
barometer,
character traits,
dark,
fantasy,
fodder,
goth rocker,
kinky,
marilyn manson,
paying attention,
propriety,
sick freak,
social expectations,
strangeness,
surprising discovery,
taboo,
tendencies,
trolls,
twisted,
wake forest university
