I am wrong.
More precisely, every now and again, I get the impression that there is something wrong with being a woman.
The recent decision by the BBC to introduce a quota for women on panel shows has caused a bit of panic and much handwringing on social media.
Back and forth, the liberal media has battled with the notion of a didact being sent from on high to introduce more women to their shows. Liberals don’t like to be told what to do, especially when it’s to forward a liberal ideal.
The comedy sector especially got their knickers in a twist, with Dara O’Briain quite vocally bemoaning the new policy. While applauding it in principle, he objected to the BBC announcing it to the TV viewing public.
He felt this would reduce female guests currently used on his show, Mock the Week, to the role of the “token woman”—that viewers would suddenly question whether they were only put on telly for their tits rather than being the best person available.
O’Briain was accused of being a chauvinist, of being anti-woman. I don’t believe he is either of these things. Unfortunately I do think he is a little ignorant to the experience of the television consumer this side of the box.
The fact is we are well used to women reporting from war zones, anchoring the news, tearing strips from politicians on debate shows but when it comes to women on comedy shows we already see them as an oddity—simply because there are so few of them.
I grew up in the 80s and 90s blessed to be able to watch hilariously funny women like French & Saunders, Jo Brand and Victoria Wood. I still quote some of their jokes with friends today. Moving on to the 90s, the all-female comedy show Smack the Pony poked fun at female stereotypes and Catherine Tate’s characters have gone down in comedy history.
Saturday Night Live saw a host of female comics holding their own in the competitive world of TV stand-up. But somewhere, among all that, the question got asked one day—“Are women really funny? Sure, they can be witty and perhaps tell the odd good joke, but funny? Funny is for boys.” And that question stuck.
O’Briain’s reasons for concern about the new rules stem from the apparent lack of women working in the stand-up comedy scene where his contributors would largely come from. This ruling would force them to search high and low to find funny women who can handle the robust and fast-thinking world of TV comedy.
As a producer I understand the frustration of finding suitable contributors, who not only know what they are talking about but can also deliver it in the right style and tone to match what you need. And it can be incredibly frustrating when management, who often times have never set foot on the production floor, make decisions that seriously affect your work.
But here’s the thing—I don’t care.
These chances could possibly have an adverse effect on Mock the Week for a period of time. With less than 10% of stand-up comedians in the UK being female, O’Briain’s producers will struggle to find a large pool of talented, and more importantly, experienced women to draw from.
Do I believe that there aren’t women out there capable of doing the job to meet and exceed O’Briain’s own high comedic standard? No! I think there are thousands of hilarious and talented women out there and this industry game changer will encourage them to get involved and see it as a viable career path.
Yes we have Jo Brand regularly popping up on QI, Mock the Week and other comedy offerings but nobody said, ‘Right, we have Eddie Hobbs, we don’t need another economist so let’s go home now, job done!’
The comedy industry, and don’t be fooled—it is an industry with a lot of money being made—is just as susceptible to market forces as steel and coal. Where there is demand, supply will quickly follow. When an industry giant like the BBC says they are in the market for more female comedians agents up and down the UK and Ireland are going to be looking out for more female talent.
If the agents are looking for more female comedians, comedy clubs are going to be eager to book more women. There is no point in O’Briain and others complaining about the lack of female comics and then complaining when someone makes a step to change that. Like any other work place it’s the people at the top that set the agenda. As the phrase goes—shit flows down. And to follow that analogy to the bitter end, it will fertilise as it goes.
O’Briain is thinking about his own backyard, his own show. The BBC is thinking larger and more far-reaching. Thank God. O’Briain bemoans that more women don’t see themselves as part of the professional comedy world and shakes his head wondering why this is the case.
The fact is, it is harder. Lara A King, a former winner of the Funny Women award spoke about this in an article for The Guardian in 2012, "Just because there are more men doing it, that doesn't necessarily mean they are better at it. I think they get given the breaks a bit more, and they get given a little bit more slack. I think women are less encouraged and less supported. People who book comedy nights do tend to think that one woman on the bill is really quite enough."
Maybe they just aren’t good enough? Please be clear, being tough enough to withstand the male orientated bullshit on the circuit is different to not being good enough on stage, or on a TV set. Isn’t that women’s argument in all industries?
And even if she is good enough to rise through the ranks of stand up, to make it to the coveted TV set, and get the nod of recognition, she’ll still be put through the test—Is she pretty enough? Can Dara O’Briain claim that his male band of brothers would all pass that test?
The fact is I’ve had a sneaky suspicion that I am wrong for a while now. That as a woman, I work in a world that doesn’t like the female voice on air, that doesn’t like to pay a woman the same as her male colleague, where men are in the boardroom and women are on reception.
Maybe this International Women’s Day we can celebrate being a woman and have a laugh too?
