Katie Stuller

Dear Amy Schumer,

Watching John Cena thrust his chiseled butt cheeks on top of your unenthusiastic body was both the highlight and lowlight of my summer. Trainwreck was exactly what I expected: a nice, raunchy chick flick —not quite Bridesmaids material, but real enough to make me think, “Thank God; I’m not alone.”

I must admit, however, that I have never slept with a WWE superstar. Nor have I been raised to say, “Monogamy isn’t realistic.” I don’t drink 36 alcoholic beverages a week, nor do I hook up with nerdy interns who are half my age.

These vulgar snippets of Trainwreck are hilarious because they’re absurd, but the horror is that only a handful of millennials, including myself, think these life habits are actually absurd. Many American girls truly find Trainwreck hilarious because it is an honest representation of the reality in which they live. They can relate, and that scares me.

One-night stands, binge drinking, poor relationships and instability are what make comedy today, and what I find even more disturbing is that you crafted Brie Larson’s character perfectly to represent the lame sister. She’s married, has an intelligent child, a nice home and a stable job, and because of this success (the perfect balance between a career and family — what American women have been striving to achieve for decades!), she’s missing out on the fun side of life.

But in the end of Trainwreck, you slowly fall for Bill Hader and realize that settling down can make you feel at ease. You finally respect your sister. You admit that despite the thrill of being a crazy, drunken feminist, being loved by a man makes you feel more valued. Because of a man’s affection, you finally notice your worth? Amy. Your feminist values are contradicting themselves.

The problem is that you only present two types of women: the freewheeling party girl and the tame breadwinning mother. What about the women in the middle? What about the college girl who loves to chug Jägerbombs, who awkwardly gets neck cramps from dancing too hard to Miley Cyrus but goes home to sleep over with her girlfriends or snuggle up with her long-term loyal boyfriend?

What about the American women who have the courage to say no to sex before marriage? What about the women who marry the men to whom they lose their virginity? What about the teenagers — the 14-year-olds who haven’t even started ovulating yet — who are learning that when they’re in college, graduated or 30 years old, it’s OK to be a mess, because it’s funny? If you want to be funny, you have to be raunchy. And raunchy is what America loves.

Yes, comedy is supposed to offend — that’s somewhat the point. It’s impossible to censor every single word and always be inclusive. I love satire. It’s fun to insult. It’s fun to be real, but as a comedy addict, I am concerned for the evolution of our humor, morals and life decisions.

Just look at Robert Carlock and Tina Fey’s Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt. Who enjoys that show? Intellectuals. People who understand that shock value does not equal comedy. Anyone can sound funny if he or she barges on stage screaming, “Wadddupp, bitches!” as opposed to, “How are y’all doing tonight?” Profanity and explicit content breaks down barriers; it tells the audience that you are like us. But if a comedian is able to eliminate profanity and sexual innuendos and still be funny (like Tina Fey) — that’s genius. I think you have that potential, Amy. I think you’re incredibly bright.

If your goal is to appeal to that growing population of girls who enjoy the instability and recklessness of their young-adult years, then that’s OK, but I think you should know that no one expects you to always fit the mold as the woman who gives zero f—-. It’s OK to want a boyfriend. It’s OK to drink and not black out. It’s OK to not drink at all. It’s OK to be serious. It’s OK to want kids. It’s OK to get married, young or old. It’s OK to not enjoy sex. It’s OK to feel insecure about your body. It’s OK to eat what you want. It’s OK to cry. It’s OK to be alone. It’s OK to fall in love and break up. It’s OK to be smart. Sometimes, Amy, it’s really OK.

You’ve broken through the glass ceiling, and you rock for doing so; but take time to put some Band-Aids on the cuts it may have given you. Your honesty is valuable, and I want to see more of it — in all aspects of a woman’s life, not only in the bedroom.

Katie Stuller is a senior English major. She can be reached at kstullerdbk@gmail.com.