R.I.P. Judy Tenuta: A Petite Flower Wilts At 72

These days, I spend a lot of time and energy sharing and discussing the things that I love, but there are some things that I’ve come to realize are held within me like unintentional secrets, be it due to timing or circumstance. I was born into what has been labeled the “Oregon Trail Generation,” growing up through the transition of analog into a more digital world shifting from an era of underground zines and mailing away for 7-inches into downloading MP3s en masse on file-sharing sites. I watched the rise and fall of entire industries and remember when you could rent a VCR before Blockbusters spread like Covid across the country and, ultimately, became abandoned storefronts. Living in the 80s was very different prior to the internet, smartphones, and social media; information was less accessible as were the platforms to share it. There were 3 basic television channels and they would air commercials peddling encyclopedia sets. I was friends with a pair of brothers who, along with having everything from the latest toys and gaming systems, were part of a family that would purchase those encyclopedias. One fascinating perk about visiting their home was that they not only had cable, but pay channels like HBO. Thanks to this, we got caught trying to watch Body Heat one night when we were supposed to be asleep. Also thanks to this, I was in elementary school when I first discovered Judy Tenuta.

I was just a kid and this was a really long time ago, so I can’t tell you for sure, but we likely discovered Judy through one of her HBO standup specials. If it was the first Women Of The Night showcase from 1987, that means that I had to have been around 8 years old, at the time. The brothers that I was friends with were a year older and a year younger, respectively. Whatever appearance put her on our radar, the crass “Love Goddess” with the accordion and giant flower on the side of her head stood out. She had an overwhelming presence and a strength to her. I remember NEVER finding Ellen DeGeneres funny, but I always loved Judy. It was comediennes from the time like her and Rita Rudner, that left me oblivious of the struggles for woman in that industry, only because they seemed to have things handled. Appearing so effortless in their craft, I didn’t know that women weren’t supposed to be funny or intelligent or clever; the representations I witnessed only refuted that. I never learned that a woman couldn’t or shouldn’t take up space or command a room, I only knew how Judy Tenuta did and that it was a privilege to behold.

Tenuta‘s act was so unique that it struck me, even as a kid, but… I was just a kid. In retrospect, I’m not really sure how many of her jokes we could have understood at that age. What I definitely did connect to was her overall power and energy. Maybe it was simply her trademark greeting of “Hey pigs!” that won us over, along with the delivery of her voice that shifted on a dime from a whiisical, fluttering high-pitched fancy to a crude wisecracking growl and back again,. She spoke like the standup equivalent to a Pixies tune. She didn’t sound or look like anyone else and I could feel how important that was. The odd thing is that, although the experience felt very personal, I now remember that, at least one of the other kids, if not both, were drawn into it just the same. Excavating memories from this old dome of mine can sometimes be like stepping through a scrap heap, but I distinctly remember the excitement during a moment alerting each other, “It’s the lady with the accordion again!” We were Wacky Wall Walker and sugar cereal-loving 80s children and she was a Second City alum/touring club comic, not an episode of A-Team, Transformers or Thundercats. Even if the appreciation might have been there, any sustained discussion around her couldn’t have lasted long. Who would I speak to about it outside of those moments of surprise, anyway? I doubt our parents would assume that we were secret Judy Tenuta fans trading baseball cards while watching her standup. They sure as fuck weren’t supervising us.

Judy was a public figure on a platform that wasn’t targeted toward or meant for us little hooligans that spent our days digging holes, skinning knees, and banging rolls of caps with a hammer, squealing when something would almost catch fire. That said, Tenuta indirectly affected my worldview and was one of the things that I know subtly alters my perspective about how I understand this goofy physical plane and view myself within it. I don’t believe there’s any way that she didn’t leave some sort of partial fingerprint on my processors as an early influence on how I’d view, not only comedy, but the ability to harness and directing ones unique personal power. The reason that I know all this to be true is not because of some specific details, evidence, or anecdote about how it directly manifested itself within me, but because of that specific feeling. For me, Judy‘s act is one of those things I remember coming across, because I remember that distinct moment of feeling like I truly discovered something. It’s a feeling I chase and one of the only reasons that have ever convinced me it’s worth existing, at all: discovery and sharing with others to help them discover.

Anytime I would randomly see Tenuta pop up over the years, it’s that electrified memory and feeling that would activate like Pop Rocks inside of me. A good decade after my first encounter, she would make cameos on Dr. Katz, Professional Therapist and Space Ghost Coast To Coast, as well as playing the psychic “Madame Judy” on The Weird Al Show. I never knew of her Grammy nomination or her books, her voiceover career or that she became an important figure to the LGBTQ+ community. My relationship to her work was more of an abstract feeling and general admiration. Whevener I’d see her, I was always just happy to know that she still existed. The fact that she wasn’t some ever-present figure could only feed into that feeling of a pleasant memory tied to me as an individual. She felt like a secret. And secrets like that are remarkable, because it draws a connection to others when you discover that you share them.

“Accordion” to the news, The Love Goddess passed away yesterday, Septemer 6th 2022 at the age of 72 after losing her battle with ovarian cancer. Also according to the news, she accomplished and affected a great deal more than I was ever aware of during her rich existence. She left a legacy behind. Rest well petite flower. Thanks for existing.

Check out her segment from the original Women Of The Night HBO comedy special below