Stephen Colbert makes me laugh so hard, sometimes it pisses me off. I loved him on Exit 57 and Strangers With Candy, but it was in 1997 — when I was the co-creator and head writer of The Daily Show — that I saw him do what I love most: roast the media while being the media.

He had a gig then at Good Morning America, and had produced a puff piece with just the right amount of satirical self-importance that felt perfect for The Daily Show. I immediately went to my then-colleague and co-creator Madeleine Smithberg and said, “Let’s get Colbert for the show.” She agreed, and shortly thereafter, Stephen became part of our “fake news” team and helped redefine what late-night comedy and political satire could be.

Stephen isn’t just a brilliant satirist — everything he does is anchored in something real. His comedy has always had a moral core, rooted in his faith, his commitment to calling out injustice, and his belief that the powerful should be held accountable. He uses his voice and humor to tell the truth with deep humanity and sharp wit.

So forgive me if I don’t buy the official line that CBS canceled The Late Show, which has run nightly for over three decades, purely for “financial reasons.”

Sure, legacy networks are scrambling to stay solvent in the age of streaming and short-form content. But the timing here is hard to ignore. Colbert has consistently called out Donald Trump and slammed the media’s growing cowardice in the face of fascism. Add to that, CBS parent company Paramount — run by nepo billionaire David “Little Larry” Ellison — just settled for $16 million with Trump, who is now flapping his yap about being promised more billions for airtime and ads.

But we’re supposed to believe it’s just dollars and cents?

Stephen isn’t expensive. He’s a threat. A wildly popular, truth-telling comic with moral clarity is dangerous in this moment. Especially when he’s white, male, and too influential to be dismissed as fringe.

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But here’s the thing. For many of us who’ve been doing political comedy for decades, this doesn’t come as a shock. It’s just rare to see it happen to someone with that kind of power and platform.

As a comedian who is loudly progressive and proudly pro-abortion, I’ve had more doors slammed in my face than opened. Even these days, comedy clubs often won’t book comics with opinions — unless those opinions lean Joe Rogan-adjacent. Local news outlets that used to promote my shows won’t talk to me now. Even in my hometown. And if a club knows you might mention abortion onstage? Doesn’t matter if the audience is there for you — good luck finding a venue that’ll stand behind you. It’s too controversial. Too niche. Too feminist. Men might not laugh.

Today, Louis C.K. and Dave Chappelle are packing stadiums and scoring Netflix deals, while comedians like Kamau Bell, Larry Wilmore, Samantha Bee, and Michelle Wolf lose their shows. Always for “financial reasons.” Funny how that works.

It seems like the only political jokes this industry is willing to defend are the ones that punch down.

This isn’t new; it’s the story of my career. I saw early on that network executives didn’t want progressive voices. Worse, they’d claim they wanted “edgy,” as long as it didn’t disrupt the advertisers or make shareholders squirm. Super edgy. So I left The Daily Show. I co-founded Air America. I launched what would become Abortion Access Front. I built my own platforms. I had to, because nobody in corporate media was investing in spaces where comedy could tell the truth and spark action. Especially if a woman was pitching it.

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Political comedy done right is not just entertainment. It reminds the people most affected by abuse of power that they’re not alone. It gives them a voice. It shines a light on the cruelty of the greedy. It’s resistance as joy.

I’ve been moved to see the other late-night hosts rally around Stephen. It’s the right thing to do. But it also underscores the privilege gap in this space: These are all white men who have held those coveted late-night slots for years. They have the safety nets to speak out without wondering if they will be blackballed or be unable to feed their families. No one will call them “shrill” or “difficult” for showing righteous anger on Stephen’s behalf.

What must that be like?

This is why Colbert’s cancellation hits different. Not just because he’s one of the greats, but because his ousting is a warning shot. It tells comedians — even the white, male, successful ones — that there’s a line. And if you cross it, they’ll find an excuse to take you out.

Underneath those thinly veiled excuses is fear. Fear of the power comedians have. Fear that people might actually listen while they are laughing.

Knowing Stephen and his values, I don’t think we’re at risk of losing his voice. I hope he takes his brilliance somewhere he has full creative control. We need him, and we need the brilliance of every political comic still brave enough to speak out.

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Because those of us doing this work? We don’t wait for permission. We build it ourselves. Mic in hand. Middle finger raised.

Lizz Winstead is a comedian, activist, co-creator of The Daily Show and the founder of Abortion Access Front, a team of comedians, writers, and producers that uses humor to destigmatize abortion and expose the extremist anti-choice forces working to destroy access to reproductive rights in all 50 states.