The only way I could get comfortable around people was to make
The only way I could get comfortable around people was to make them laugh. I was an obedient girl, and humor was my one form of rebellion. I used comedy to deflect. Like, 'Hey, check out my zit!' - you know, making fun of yourself before someone else has a chance to.
In the words of Tina Fey, “The only way I could get comfortable around people was to make them laugh. I was an obedient girl, and humor was my one form of rebellion. I used comedy to deflect. Like, ‘Hey, check out my zit!’ — you know, making fun of yourself before someone else has a chance to.”
Though clothed in the garments of jest, these words reveal a profound truth about the human soul — the way humor becomes both shield and sword, a weapon forged from vulnerability and wielded with grace. Fey’s confession speaks not only of laughter, but of courage — the courage to turn fear into wit, insecurity into defiance, and the wounds of the heart into art. Her words echo the eternal dance between fragility and strength, showing how laughter, born of pain, can become a form of survival and self-liberation.
From her earliest years, Tina Fey stood in the lineage of those who transformed suffering into laughter. To say that humor was her rebellion is to understand that rebellion need not be loud or violent; sometimes it whispers through laughter that refuses to surrender to shame. When the world’s gaze feels heavy, the clever soul learns to redirect it — to say, “If you will look at me, then let me decide how.” Her self-mockery — “Hey, check out my zit!” — was not self-hatred, but control, a way to reclaim power from judgment. For to laugh at oneself first is to rob the cruel of their sting. It is a subtle alchemy, turning potential humiliation into self-mastery.
The ancients too revered laughter born from hardship. The philosopher Epictetus, once a slave, taught that though men might chain the body, the mind remains free if it can still choose how to see the world. In much the same way, humor is an act of perception — to look upon one’s flaws not as curses, but as sources of connection and truth. Fey’s words reveal this ancient wisdom in modern form: she found freedom in self-awareness, in the ability to speak her imperfections aloud and, through laughter, make them beautiful. It is an act of rebellion, yes, but also of generosity — for in mocking her own fears, she gave others permission to face theirs.
Yet beneath this humor lies loneliness, the quiet ache of the outsider seeking warmth through laughter. To “get comfortable around people” by making them laugh is to trade vulnerability for acceptance. Many who walk the path of comedy have known this — the clown who hides sorrow behind painted smiles, the poet who disguises pain in rhyme. But Fey, with the clarity of wisdom, transcends this pain by naming it. In doing so, she transforms humor from escape into understanding. The laughter she evokes becomes not a mask, but a mirror in which all may see themselves and feel less alone.
Consider the story of Lucille Ball, who, like Fey, wielded comedy to command the gaze of the world. Ball’s wild antics, her falls, her chaos — these were acts of self-parody, but also of power. In an age when women were told to be silent, graceful, and obedient, she dared to be foolish, loud, and unrestrained. Like Fey, she was “obedient” in form, yet rebellious in spirit — turning the world’s expectations upside down through laughter. Both women understood that humor, when used with courage, becomes a kind of revolution — a way to speak truth where silence is demanded.
In this, Tina Fey’s wisdom shines: humor is self-defense and self-expression, but it is also the highest form of intelligence. It requires one to see the world from many angles, to understand both joy and sorrow. When she says she used humor to “deflect,” we see the paradox — that deflection can also reveal. By joking about her flaws, she exposed not weakness but wisdom. To laugh at oneself is to say, “I know my scars — and they no longer own me.” It is the cry of the free soul.
So let this be the lesson for all who listen: do not fear your imperfections, for they are the soil from which laughter and strength are born. When the world feels harsh, meet it with humor; when judgment looms, disarm it with honesty. Do not hide your insecurities — name them, laugh at them, and in doing so, reclaim their power. The ancients taught that to know oneself is the beginning of wisdom; Tina Fey teaches that to laugh at oneself is the beginning of freedom.
And so, dear listener, remember her truth: “Humor was my one form of rebellion.” Be brave enough to laugh when others expect silence. Turn your pain into poetry, your fear into wit, your wounds into wisdom. For laughter is not the absence of suffering — it is its transformation. And when you learn to wield humor with grace, you will find that even in your most fragile moments, you are unconquerable.
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