Personally, I love Amy Schumer. She’s one of my favorite comedians. So, naturally, I expected to like her new book, “The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo.” Schumer is known for her self-deprecating brand of humor that often points out both life’s many ups and downs while remaining down to earth. Her TV show, “Inside Amy Schumer,” often makes satirical commentary on what it means to be a woman in the modern world, which is something I, a young feminist, appreciate. This is what I expected to find in Amy Schumer’s memoir. What I didn’t expect was that I would find the book so personally relatable, for reasons both humorous and heartbreaking.
I didn’t expect to relate to Amy Schumer so closely as I read her memoir. Maybe it’s because I’m someone who doesn’t drink very much and rarely dates, while her on-stage persona seems to fit those ideas very well. But Schumer’s book reveals very clearly on that who she is on stage is very different from who she is in real life. She’s not her character from “Trainwreck,” though much of the movie is based on her life. I think I first started to understand this when she talked about being an introvert, and gave what was honestly the best explanation of introversion that I’ve ever read.
Amy’s humor is vulgar and honest, not the kind of humor that one would expect from a traditional “female” comedian—I put the word in quotes because she does an excellent job of explaining why she hates always being labelled a “female” comic, or, god forbid, a “woman in Hollywood.” And I completely get it. Amy’s experiences aren’t only relatable to a female audience, and implying that she’s a comedian only for women is insulting not only to her work, but to women in general, as it implies that women can’t be funny for anyone who isn’t of their gender. After all, almost everyone at one point or another finds out that their parents screwed them up to some extent. And anyone can laugh at someone else’s embarrassing sexual experiences. Amy’s point of view is unabashedly feminist because of her personal experiences, but that makes it even more important for both men and women to listen to her.
“The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo” is funny. I was laughing out loud during parts of it. But I was also crying during others, namely the chapters that described the deaths of Mayci Breaux and Jillian Johnson and the chapter detailing sexual assault. When Amy revealed how when she was in high school, her boyfriend took her virginity without her consent, I felt heartbroken, but not just for her. Reading that passage was hard not just because it’s a horrible thing that can happen to anyone, that no one deserves, but because I know far too many people who have been victims of sexual assault, particularly in situations that Amy calls “grape” or “gray area rape.” For similar reasons, I felt fearful reading the chapter entitled “The Worst Night of My Life,” as her account of an abusive relationship is also something close friends of mine have had to deal with. But I’m glad she wrote about them. Not only do these experiences make Amy Schumer, a celebrity, seem human, but her choice to talk about these personal, harrowing experiences has the potential to keep someone else from going through them too. As she says,
“I’m telling this story because I’m a strong-ass woman, not someone most people picture when they think “abused woman.” But it can happen to anyone. When you’re in love with a man who hurts you, it’s a special kind of hell, yet one that so many women have experienced. You’re not alone if it’s happening to you, and you’re not exempt if it hasn’t happened to you yet. I found my way out and will never be back there again. I got out. Get out.”
One of Amy Schumer’s best talents is her ability to find humor in situations that most people can’t stomach. But she doesn’t trivialize their gravity while she does it. Over all, Amy Schumer’s memoir is not a story of pain and sadness, but one of a woman who has been hurt, has healed, and has come out triumphant. She loves herself unashamedly, which is a trait that more people need. Amy owns up to her mistakes, but she doesn’t apologize for who she is and what she’s done. As she says in the chapter “Forgiving My Lower Back Tattoo,”
“Beautiful, ugly, funny, boring, smart or not, my vulnerability is my ultimate strength. There’s nothing anyone can say about me that’s more permanent, damaging, or hideous than the statement I have forever tattooed upon myself. I’m proud of this ability to laugh at myself—even if everyone can see my tears, just like they can see my dumb, senseless, wack, lame lower back tattoo.”
And that’s a lesson I think everyone can use. So go pick up Amy Schumer’s “The Girl with the Lower Back Tattoo.” I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised.
