Monday, December 3, 2018

A Comedy Ally


I’ve always found comfort in comedy no matter what genre it is, or where I was getting it. You see comedy in some shape or form has changed my life for the better and I believe it to be one of the greatest inventions of mankind. If used correctly it can become something that connects us all during difficult times, opens our eyes to new points of view, and exposes us to stories we might not have been receptive to had it come in another form. Stand-up comedy is hard. Close your eyes for a minute and imagine the hours and hours of writing and re-writing and writing more to come up with the perfect set list; testing your jokes out at as many open mics you can find, at least once a night; then honing your craft in front of a live paying audience. Your heart is racing, your palms are sweaty (Damn it, now I have an earworm of that Eminem song where he raps about spaghetti on his shirt, anyways). You’re in a constant battle with your inner voice saying, “Just remember your first joke” or “You enjoy doing this.” Finally, the host calls you up on stage and before you can get a good look at the crowd you’re pelted in the face with a bright white stage light. And through all the chaos, you do your best to make total strangers enjoy themselves and importantly laugh. In three and a half years of doing stand-up around the city I’ve met some amazing and talented comedians. Their stories differ from the next. It hasn’t been an easy ride, but now try to imagine what it’s like to be a woman in comedy, it’s even harder.
Phyllis Diller 
 When women were first coming up in comedy in the 1950s and 1960s they had a couple of choices. Be either one of the guys (non-threatening and non-sexual) as is the case with Phyllis Diller, Jean Carroll and Totie Fields, or be a ditzy sidekick persona. While women have more choices today, they are often judged by the same stereotypes of women. If a woman talks about sex on stage (as Amy Schumer often does) she’s a whore. If a woman talks about standing her ground, she’s a bitch. They are seen as a stereotype first as opposed to a person first.

There are many men out there who believe women can’t be funny. In 2013 at a panel, comedy icon Jerry Lewis was asked who were his favorite female comedians and he replied, “I don’t have any.” In fact, he was pressed by another reporter to clarify and he said that when he saw a female comedian on stage, he didn’t see a comic, he saw a baby-producing machine. There’s also James Allsup, a far-right “political commentator” who, in my opinion, probably hasn’t even tried an open mic in his life and has an entire YouTube video breaking down how it’s nearly impossible for women to be funny. Even successful comedians like Kevin Hart and Katt Williams have been known to be less supportive of their fellow female comedians like Leslie Jones or Tiffany Haddish. Jones, the Emmy nominated SNL cast member, was extremely vocal about how both Hart and Williams never gave Haddish nor herself the opportunity to tour with them and further advance their comedy careers. Jones stated in fact when there was an opportunity for representation of black women comedians it was white comedian, Neal Brennan, who gave Jones her first break.

Women in the comedy business are also subjected to additional struggles as they battle what is often a very unfair power dynamic between themselves and male comedians. For example, we have all heard by now of the scandal that uncovered years of sexual misconduct by Louis C.K. When the story broke last year, Laurie Kilmartin, a stand-up comedian and writer on Conan wrote an op-ed for the New York Times in which she paints a vivid picture of what most female comics have to do in finding alternate routes to their career. Whether that’s not booking a spot at a particular club because “he’s there,” or performing at this club because “he runs it,” or I won’t get on that TV show because “he books it.”

I believe this incident with Louis C.K. (along with the incident with Aziz Ansari) was an important moment for the comedy community as a lot of comedians became aware of how the machismo that runs through the club and open mic nights create an environment that encourages the objectification of women. It reminded me of Berger’s Ways of Seeing— whereby the environment made it very clear that in addition to clearing all other hurdles one usually must overcome to make it in comedy, women also had to somehow overcome the fact that they were either A. not taken seriously or B. simply there as a plaything for men.
Amy Schumer's podcast
The fact is, every action a woman takes in comedy is questioned in a way that men never are. For example, Amy Schumer recently commented for the first time on her new podcast 3 Girls, 1 Keith about the negative feedback she got back in May when she interrupted a young up-and-coming male comedian asking to perform that exact moment while he was headlining at the prominent New York staple Caroline’s on Broadway. In the podcast Schumer said, “Meanwhile if a guy had gone up on stage and was like, Hey, can I do ten minutes like Chappelle or somebody they would be like the greatest night of a young comedian’s life you know but, it’s a woman and they’re like don’t you know your place?” Even the women who work on the production side are questioned more than men. Felicia Madison who produces the stellar F-Comedy series at West Side Comedy Club here in New York City has had her fair share of run-ins with male comedians and fellow producers. F-Comedy, is a new talent showcase that Madison works effortlessly to promote, nurturing new talent. Typically, most showcases are what are known as “bringer shows” where comics have to bring a certain amount of guests in order to perform; it’s a part of the process in every young comedian’s trajectory in getting much needed stage time and experience. Unfortunately, Madison happens to be one of the only female producers in the New York comedy scene that gets ridiculed on this traditional process.

Hannah Gadsby, Nanette


The content of a woman’s set is also under intense scrutiny. So much so, that many feel they need to engage in self-deprecating humor in order to be seen as worthy. There are some examples of women stepping outside of that though. For example, Hannah Gadsby’s Netflix special Nanette, released this past summer, truly transcended what stand-up comedy can be, covering a wide range of topics like sexism, homophobia and her personal encounters with assault. I remembered early into her special where she confessed to her audience that she was contemplating quitting comedy, that she doesn’t feel comfortable in it anymore, adding that “I built a career out of self-deprecating humor and I don’t want to do that anymore. Because, do you understand what self-deprecation means when it comes from somebody who already exists in the margins? It’s not humility, it’s humiliation. I put myself down in order to speak,” which is the complete opposite of her earlier predecessors like Phyllis Diller, who constantly poked “fun” at herself as an “ugly” stage persona all to please a majority male audience.

When the news broke about Louis C.K., fellow comic and friend Marc Maron released an entire podcast episode where he discussed the issue from his perspective. On the show Maron became a comedy ally, something we all need now. He admitted to being a toxic male presence in both his personal and professional life and how empathy is something he struggles with, but ultimately is learning how to have it for women. He spoke out against his friend Louis C.K. addressing that “no one should be asked if they want to see your dick when they walk into work” referring to the five accusers and fellow female comics who initially broke the story. It’s that power dynamic that Maron says “should open up an entire window of empathy to what a lot of women have to deal with every day.”

This class has helped me gain a newfound empathy for women in general, but especially in comedy. Because empathy is what’s going to make us all allies. Empathy is what all men, as audience members, club bookers or comics, need to bring to the table. Because as Hannah Gadsby puts it “I believe we could paint a better world if we learned how to see it from all perspectives, as many perspectives as we possibly could. Because diversity is strength. Difference is a teacher. Fear difference, and you learn nothing.” OH CRAP! I totally forgot to tell you to open your eyes.