Shit You Absolutely CANNOT Say on Television

Shit You Absolutely CANNOT Say on Television
January 25, 2025 | Dave Chappelle

Man, I’m sitting here in Yellow Springs, Ohio, sipping coffee, watching the snow fall like it’s got nowhere better to be, and I’m thinking about television. You know, that box that used to mean something? That thing that raised half of y’all, taught you how to dream, how to laugh, how to buy shit you don’t need? Yeah, that television. I’ve been on it. I’ve walked away from it. And I’ve come back to it, just to see if it’s still as crazy as I left it. Spoiler alert: it is. But there’s one thing I’ve learned about TV over the years—there’s shit you absolutely cannot say on it. Not because it’s wrong, not because it’s dangerous, but because the suits, the censors, the whole damn system can’t handle the mirror you’re holding up. Let’s talk about it.

First off, you can’t say the truth about power. Not the real truth. You can’t get on NBC and say, “Hey, the people running this country don’t give a damn about you—they’re playing chess while you’re playing checkers.” Nah, that’s too real. They’ll let you talk about politics, sure—red team, blue team, pick a side, fight like it’s a football game. But the second you point out that the whole game’s rigged, that the folks at the top are laughing while you’re arguing over crumbs? Oh, they’ll cut to commercial so fast your head’ll spin. I tried that once on Chappelle’s Show. We did a sketch about how the government keeps us distracted—Black, white, rich, poor—while they rob us blind. The network execs were like, “Dave, that’s hilarious… but maybe tone it down.” Tone it down? Man, the truth don’t come with a dimmer switch.

You also can’t say the N-word on TV—unless you’re quoting history or some sanitized version of it. And look, I get it, that word’s got a heavy history, a bloody one. I’ve used it in my stand-up, in my sketches, to take it back, to flip it, to make you laugh and think at the same time. But on TV? They’re terrified of it. Not because of the word itself, but because of the conversation it starts. You say that word, and suddenly you’re talking about slavery, Jim Crow, redlining, all the shit America wants to pretend it forgot. TV don’t want that smoke. They want safe. They want Friends reruns and car commercials. I did a bit once where I played a white dude using the word in a “historical context”—you know, to show how absurd it sounds when it’s not yours to use. Network said, “Dave, we can’t air that.” I said, “Why not? It’s the truth.” They said, “It’s too much.” Too much for who? Not the audience—them.

Here’s another one: you can’t say God’s name in a way that makes people uncomfortable. You can say “God bless you” or “Thank God,” but you can’t get on CBS and say, “God might not be who you think He is, and maybe He’s tired of your bullshit.” Nah, that’s a no-go. America loves its religion, but only the kind that fits in a 30-second prayer before the Super Bowl. You start questioning faith, or worse, pointing out how people use it to justify hate—anti-gay laws, anti-abortion crusades, anti-everything—they’ll shut you down quick. I did a special, Sticks & Stones, where I talked about how folks cherry-pick the Bible to fit their agenda. I said, “If God hates gays, why’d He make ‘em so fabulous?” People laughed, but the networks wouldn’t touch it. Too risky. Too real. They’d rather have a preacher on Sunday morning telling you to send money for salvation.

You can’t say shit about the alphabet mafia either—I mean the LGBTQ community, but I call ‘em the alphabet mafia ‘cause they got more letters than a bowl of alphabet soup, and they’ll come for you if you step out of line. Look, I got love for everybody—live your truth, I’m here for it. But on TV, you can’t even joke about ‘em without a firestorm. I did a bit in The Closer about how the gay community moves faster than Black folks in the civil rights game—they got marriage equality in, what, 20 years? We’re still fighting for basic respect after 400. It was a joke, but it was also true. Networks wouldn’t air that. They’re scared of the backlash, the hashtags, the cancellations. You can’t say, “Hey, why’s one group’s struggle get a fast pass while another’s still in line?” That’s too much for TV. They want feel-good diversity, not real talk.

And don’t even think about saying anything about the sacred cows of capitalism. You can’t get on ABC and say, “This whole system’s built on exploitation—your iPhone’s made by kids in sweatshops, your coffee’s picked by folks who can’t afford to drink it, and your taxes are paying for wars you didn’t vote for.” Nah, that’s a hard pass. TV’s funded by ads—big corporations, big money. They don’t want you thinking about where your stuff comes from. They want you buying it. I did a sketch once where I played a CEO admitting, “Yeah, we’re screwing you, but you keep coming back!” It was funny ‘cause it was true. Network said, “Dave, we can’t air that—our sponsors will pull out.” I said, “Good, let ‘em pull out. I’m pulling out too.” And I did—walked away from $50 million. Best decision I ever made.

Here’s the thing: TV’s not about truth. It’s about control. They control the narrative, the ads, the audience. They decide what’s “safe” to say, and safe ain’t the same as right. You can’t say shit about power, race, God, identity, or money—not if it makes people think too hard. And that’s why I do stand-up, why I live in Yellow Springs, why I don’t play their game. I’d rather say what I want on a stage, in a special, on my terms, than whisper what they allow on a soundstage.

In 2025, the list of shit you can’t say on TV is longer than ever. Cancel culture’s got networks shook. Everyone’s walking on eggshells, afraid of the next viral outrage. But me? I’m the sacred fool. I say what I want, and if you don’t like it, change the channel. I’m not here to make you comfortable—I’m here to make you think. TV can’t handle that. But you can. So let’s talk, laugh, argue, whatever—just don’t expect me to shut up. That’s the one thing I’ll never say.