Women named Karen aren’t doing so well. They don’t find Karen jokes funny. ‘Calm Down Karen’ doesn’t make them calm. It makes them anxious, unhappy and unfairly victimised. They don’t appreciate the continual social derision, based not on their actual values, but on an assumption that their name is the only evidence required to minimise and reduce them to a stereotype that insists they are all small-minded, angry, entitled, middle aged white women. It’s clearly not true. So why, in a world that is so woke, is it socially acceptable to knock on the door of every woman named Karen and ridicule her?
I don’t make Karen jokes. Not because I’d thought deeply about the inherent misogyny of attributing all those negative attributes to innocent women named Karen. Many who aren’t entitled, who aren’t racist, but who are kind and compassionate, considered and thoughtful. I hadn’t reflected on the impact the Karen jokes, trending since 2020, might be having on them. I just didn’t find the jokes funny. They felt a bit sexist and cruel – a social cue that told us, in a world where we are encouraged to be respectful, that ‘we have an approved target, so come on over and have a kick’. Karen is on the ground, and no one is helping her up.
I have a friend named Karen. Well, to be honest, I have a lot of friends named Karen. None of them are entitled white women. They are all very intelligent, beautiful people. I actually don’t personally know anyone called Karen who fits the 2020 trending meme.
When I was performing at Adelaide Fringe this year I invited my dear friend Karen. She sent me a long message explaining how comedy was no longer a safe space for her, that she was really upset by the Karen jokes as they’d made her feel alienated and ridiculed, and prescribed her with a set of values that had never been hers. It had made her feel anxious and bullied. Simply put, she was worried about coming to comedy because she was an easy target. She asked if I told Karen jokes? I told her ‘No, none. My shows are a safe space for women named Karen.’ When I call out racism, or entitlement I don’t make an entire cohort of women responsible.
I hadn’t realised how much that joke had hurt. My friend disclosed how traumatising it had been; that women named Karen had been talking to other women named Karen. That they had set up chat groups on Facebook to share stories of what had been happening to them. They’d been the butt of jokes in their family, at work, and with their friends who’d say ‘Stop acting like your name’. They’d been laughed at and ridiculed in every part of their life. Not for anything they had said or done. Just because of their name. That’s called bullying. It hurts people. And women named Karen are over it. They try to say something, but every time they do, they are shut down, minimised or ridiculed again. Women named Karen are anxious, and they are tired of everyone feeling virtuous and right on at their expense.
When we feel powerless in the world we have to stop coming home and kicking Karen. It’s also sexist. We’re not calling out Darren or Peter or Bruce. The reality is, in the global picture, middle aged women don’t hold any power. So why are we targeting them as symbolic of entitlement? In a patriarchal society, they’re pretty well invisible. Karen bashing has given us permission to do what society has always loved but not been permitted to do: bash women and get away with it.
So let’s stop making dumb jokes about women named Karen. Let’s call out racism, entitlement and obnoxious behaviour, but let’s not do it by throwing every woman we know named Karen under the bus. It’s cruel. It not okay to use profiling to prescribe values.
Women named Karen should not feel scared every time someone says: ‘name?’
If you know someone named Karen, ask them how they are going. Tell them you are sorry. And shut down anyone who makes fun of people named Karen. The Karen joke is dead.
If your name is Karen and you’d like a safe place to talk to other women also named Karen – try Karens United on Facebook. And please, don’t go there to troll.
If you would like to know what it feels like to be Karen, try this empathy generator, and you’ll be named and shamed on the spot: https://karenismyname.org/renamer
For four decades The Echo has printed the stories some people loved, some people hated, and some pretended not to read. If you want us to keep telling the truth, the real truth, not the sugar-coated version. We’ll need your support to keep the presses rolling. 
