Of what it Is to Be a Woman Comedian in 2020

For me, starting to perform stand-up comedy was the closest that I have come to cliff-diving: a total rush driven by courage, and also something of what I hoped to do that others think I looked pretty cool (not). I started to write jokes and satire at the age of 15, despite the fact that I was painfully shy as happened to me in high school peaks and valleys.

At the age of 17, he finally took the stage to perform. I had spent years throwing jokes at the wall like strands of spaghetti — insert vigorous Italian hands that I do as an Italian woman — until some things stuck. When I had three minutes of material that made me feel confident and dare I say a bit spicy, I caravanned up with my friends at a local coffee shop, one of the only places under-21-year-olds could perform. To my surprise, my first set was very good. I received congratulations through the kind words, phone numbers, handshakes and high-fives from strangers. I stopped feeling the most confident I have ever had about my skills.

Then I found some middle-aged-men in the parking lot.

“He pointed out to me (as one of the two women in the audience) and went on a vulgar little about how to perform oral sex on me with all the pantomime. I turned 18, the week.”

The group, composed by the three comics that had also made in the hodgepodge open mic night of poetry, music and comedy (more of a guy crumping), were smoking a cigarette outside. All of them were easily twice my age, none of them had gotten laughter. Of course, this is part of the comedy. Sometimes, only out of the day. I bid them a goodbye and a “good job there” before you start the trek to my car. The highest-acclaimed me. He began to give me the notes that I had written about everything she told me, told me how to improve my jokes in the future with a strange editions were dated, a little sexist, and not only super funny. All of it was condescending.

I went to another small open mic a week later, where I found the same tall man. Without acknowledging me, he began hitting on me aggressively with the jokes inappropriate and a constant assertion that he was “a very good comedian that was performing this evening.” I went to the bathroom and waited for the microphone to begin. As usual, the night started with a headliner, a payment of a comic that would be the beginning of the night before the rookies took a chance. From that was to get money, I thought that this guy would be, perhaps, behave in a manner more professional than that of my friend at the door. It was not until four minutes in his 20 minutes before he pointed out to me (as one of the two women in the audience) and went on a vulgar little about how to perform oral sex on me with all the pantomime. I had turned 18 that week, if that makes you feel more comfortable, even though it should not.

Weeks later, I was performing again. Although the comic is makes me uncomfortable, I loved the comedy and the writing so you don’t want to stop. However, no matter how many times Beyoncé had asked me to, “I Say, boy, bye,” these guys are not going to leave. I had performed many times at this point, so that a man who coordinated the comedy show I took a side before the microphone started to chat. He began to tell me why I was good at comedy, and credited that to the fact that I “do not only speak of rough periods, sex, and sh*t like other women in comedy.” I had a joke about periods and my question for that night and then looked at him “cramp” in the audience when I said it. It is worth noting that I had seen every man in the room three minutes of jokes about sex every week since it started.

At 23 years of age, I have come to do more comedy than I ever could have expected. I have performed at well-known comedy clubs throughout California and open for a Comedy Central writer when he was only 21 years old. I wrote more than 70 humor articles for a publication, and I continue to love writing more and more with each year of life. Sometimes, however, the masculinity toxic kicks in the door with a barrel of sexism and really ruins the party.

“We like to have fun, but there’s nothing fun about your t-shirt that says ‘Sarcasm of the Burden.'”

I have edited full-length pilot script for the men comics without paying. I have been told that to do a lot of shows, “just for the sake of networking” to discover later that I did not pay. I have seen a man of the weasel (force) their way into a “Girls Only” comedy show, and then use their seven minutes to perform anything, but the transphobia and jokes about sexual assault to a crowd of silence. I’ve sat and looked plump male comics fat-shame women. In the world of today, many of these archaic antics go without laughter, which inevitably prompts the male comic in question to say, “it Seems that this crowd doesn’t like to have fun.” We like to have fun, but there’s nothing fun about your t-shirt that says “the Sarcasm of Charge.”

Although not all the men in comedy are the trash of the lady of comics, there is a vocal enough group of real dunces that make each show a strained relationship. Older men with date senses of humor are often the managers of the sample so that it can not externally be cut. In my experience, some men think that because they make you laugh, you must want to engage. You can be a “boys club”, where the jokes are more locker room talk than actual writing. If you call that a brush with “it was just a joke”.

Chris D’elia was recently called because of their alleged predatory behavior ofunderage fans that he was going to try to get back to their hotel rooms. It is only really the tip of the iceberg of how men in comedy, they think they can get away with the way they treat women. Excuse us for a large amount of absolutely disgusting humor of comics like Louis C. K., D’elia, T. J. Millerand so on, because we ascribe to a joke. We have excused Jerry Seinfeld dating a 17 year old, in the years ’90 because comics tend to appear harmless jesters who make us laugh, but pose no real danger.

If you are a man in comedy, there are many things you can do to not make women warn their friends about you or dub you “[Insert Your Name Her] the Comedy of Creep.”

  1. Stop hitting on other comics. This is not speed dating, it is the performance.
  2. Let’s think for a solid minute about what you want to say on the stage. It is something that you would be ashamed for her friends to hear you say? Or something that I think could come back to bite them in the future? Don’t say it! There are a lot of fun things in this world (from elementary school talent shows to the Food Network judges of trying to pee on a monkey) who can make that the fun place.
  3. If you have even an ounce of power in the world of comedy, not use women to do what you want, and no doubt the women of her time. Finally, stop hitting the children of high school or girls who are young enough to be collected out of your bedroom bedding.

I’ve shivered through a million sets on how to “#MeToo ruins of comedy” and how “people used to know how to take a joke.” If your jokes make even one person in the room to feel bad about themselves, they are really providing the laugh is you think that is? Or are you just doing this to entertain yourself? Stand-up is supposed to make the whole room laugh, not just you. If you are in self-pleasure, you should probably stay home where it is more appropriate.

Lydia Livingston

Lydia is the newest member of the Genesis Brand family and has fit into the culture seamlessly. After graduating college, three years ago, Lydia made the transition to west coast life after her early years in NYC. She's an avid tennis player, animal rights activist and aspiring vegan chef.

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