An @InternationalWomensDay In The Life Of My Partner

Its #InternationalWomensDay, so I’m going to talk about what happens when @AdmiralAsthma and I do the same job, since we both direct improvised plays, and we’ve both been an obvious part of the Seattle improv scene for about the same time. This isn’t a “big deal” story, on its own, leading to any big conflict. It’s a very normal, every day sort of story.

When I run an audition, I usually wear the first mostly-unwrinkled Fred Meyer button-up shirt in my closet, yesterday’s jeans, and the same shoes I wear every day. Sometimes I remember to brush my hair, but usually I forget. I don’t really think about it, except to make sure I don’t have any food stains on my shirt.

When @AdmiralAsthma runs an audition, she carefully puts together an outfit, made out of clothes that are all more expensive than mine. The right neckline, some professional pants, and a blazer. She puts on the right amount of make-up. She puts product in her hair with confusing names I don’t always understand, but which make it hard to breath. She looks at herself in the mirror and decides if she’s putting out the right combination of authority, but also fun to work with, but also not too scary so that auditionees aren’t nervous.

Auditionees arrive and they hand me their audition paperwork. Not just for the auditions I run: if I’m sitting in on @AdmiralAsthma’s audition, they’ll often walk up and hand me their paperwork as well. These are all people who probably consider themselves “woke”, and who are well aware of systemic inequality. But patterns are ingrained, and they’re anxious about auditions, and they’re not thinking too hard about it, so I’m maybe the person in charge.

When everyone has arrived, I just start talking, and the auditionees almost always quiet down immediately, especially if they don’t know who I am.

@AdmiralAsthma says the exact same thing, and people sometimes look surprised at who’s talking, and they finish up their conversations, and they start to listen. So she starts again when they’re quiet enough. The ones who know who she is actually quiet down quicker than for me.

I once counted the extra actions that I could perceive @AdmiralAsthma needing to take to subtlely reassert herself one time, and in the five minutes I counted, I hit 50. And those are just the ones that I picked up on.

I said this isn’t a “big deal” story, but that really just means its a normalized story, and one that’s composed of a hundred-small paper-cuts rather than a big obvious thing. It’s that one out-of-place thing that you don’t notice until someone tells you about it, and then you can’t stop seeing it.

@AdmiralAsthma doesn’t complain about much of this, because she’s used to it, except when clothing manufacturers fail to take the fact that she actually -does- things in her clothes into account, or when a particularly oblivious improviser won’t stop arguing against a note. But I’d complain up a storm if a tenth of it of it happened to me, because I’m used to what being born white and male and American came with for free.

Racism and Defecation

Warning: This is a half-baked thought process that uses shit as a crass metaphor for racism, so if you don’t want to hear about one or the other, then feel free to move on.

I keep being frustrated by the pretend world where you’re either racist, and the worst person in the world, or you’re totally not racist, and you’re okay. When someone is accused of saying something racist or insensitive, all sides act like they were just accused of murdering children, and we don’t get anywhere except in a big fight. Racism has become such an overloaded word, it isn’t very useful anymore. We all have lizard brains, and those lizard brains do stupid lizard things sometimes, and it’d be cool if we could just admit that sometimes, the way that we handle the fact that we’re all walking around with shit somewhere in our lower intestines.

If shitting was exactly like the way I experience racism in America right now, it would go like this: Almost all of us would admit that shit is a thing that exists, but we’d all pretend that we didn’t have any shit in us. People used to shit all the time, we’d say, and they still shit in some parts of the country, but they mostly don’t shit here. We’d all know, at some level, that there was some shit in us, but we’d be scared to death that someone would find that out about us.

Sometimes, someone would fart, and it would be the worst, because if they apologized, they’d be admitting they had some shit in them. Everyone would be embarrassed at first. Someone would accuse the person of having shit in them. Then the person would deny not only the shit, but the fact that they even farted. They’d fart again, and insist everyone smell it, to prove it wasn’t a fart. Some people would defend them, and those people would start farting too, and insisting their farts weren’t farts. They’d accuse the smellers of being overly sensitive, or of being fart-dealers themselves. Pretty soon, everyone would be farting and yelling, and the whole room would smell like shit.

If, on the other hand, we handled racism they way we handle shitting, we might get somewhere. We’d all recognize that we all have a little bit of racism in us, and we’d be decent enough to try to get rid of it discretely. We’d have trouble ever getting rid of all of it, and we’d have to accept that it wasn’t pleasant, but as long as we didn’t make other people deal with it, it wasn’t the end of the world. Sometimes, we’d have to deal with racism from the elderly or the very sick, but we’d recognize it as illness and not more.

Occasionally, someone would let something a little bit racist slip out, and it’d be embarrassing. But because we’d be able to assume that the person who let the racism slip out was more embarrassed than we were, we’d be able to trust them to go deal with it discretely. If someone persisted in being racist, someone would take them aside to talk to them about their problem, and they’d either deal with it or be shunned.

Anyway, I’m a white male American, which means I get to unfairly opt out of dealing with lot of the effects of unfairness in this country. There’s I don’t know, but I DO know I’m sometimes full of shit, metaphorically and literally, and so is everyone else, and if we could all admit that, we could start figuring out what to DO with all that shit.

Gender, Storytelling and Culture

All this pitting of sex against sex, of quality against quality; all this claiming of superiority and imputing of inferiority belong to the private-school stage of human existence where there are sides, and it is necessary for one side to beat another side.  ~Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own, 1929

On Saturday, my improv group, NERDProv, performed at GeekGirlCon. We had a really fun show, got a lot of compliments, and all of us felt pretty good about the show. In notes, we realized that the show had been pretty heavy with males playing main characters. And then one of our members forwarded us a strong, well-expressed and fair piece of criticism from an audience member who walked out. It echoed some things we talked about in notes, so it really hit home.

Rather than ignore it or feel defensive, I thought it’d be a good idea to explore how the show could have gone better and avoided excluding some of our audience and perpetuating bad cultural patterns.

There has been a lot of discussion, lately, about gender and improv. A lot of the discussion about gender and improv is about how female performers are treated, who is responsible for changing it, whether it really has to do with gender or if it’s just bad behavior, regardless of gender.  Rather than rehash that conversation, I’ll point to Elicia Wickstead’s post, which sums up a lot of the conversation.

In most the groups I perform with, I believe that most of us feel we’re treated as improvisers first, regardless of our gender. That includes NERDProv. I have no doubt that I, and others I work with, male and female, have sexist assumptions buried in our brains, but I do think we’re pretty good at trying to recognize and change them.

I also want to say, up front, that most the issues I’m discussing really aren’t limited to gender. In the same way that sexist improv is really just bad improv, sexist storytelling is often just bad (or limited) storytelling. That doesn’t let us off the hook for the sexism itself, but I think recognizing it helps us reduce the impact of our unresolved preconceptions. I also don’t think its a problem to be solved by men, or a problem to be solved by women: I think its a pattern to be recognized and broken by all of us together.

In one of early scenes, in a game of Pillars, where two audience members provide lines of dialog, I managed to bring up two males (one was a young boy, one was an enthusastic audience member who jumped up without being pointed to directly: still, I should have spent more time making sure the person I actually picked joined us).  I also believe the suggestion came from a male: I asked for a problem geeks might be trying to solve, and got, “Trying to meet women.”  Now, in a normal show, this might not be optimal, but problem wouldn’t be a big deal.  Since this was Geek GIRL Con, I’d have been smarter to have been careful that we had more female voices involved.

One of the skits involved one of the woman members improving herself into the scene as a queer woman in a bar, and then quickly devolved into the male members playing characters that were men, and creeping on her.
-Tsubame Productions

The scene began, and stage-position-wise, we had one female performer surrounded by three men.  That performer made a good, strong choice to be the one who was actually looking to meet women.  It was a neat offer that could have gone several directions. The main point, though, was that once a character like that expresses a need, she should be the main character.  I don’t actually have a problem with the fact that the males ended up being an obstacle: I think the reason it devolved was that the men became the main characters right away by expressing their own needs: to meet women, rather than pulling back and keeping the focus on the initial offer.  Instead of a woman overcoming the challenge of clueless, creppy men, it became awkward, creepy men trying to (and, fortunately failing to) overcome an uninterested woman. By the time the second female character entered, we men we’re standing center stage while they exited Stage Right. Blah: not the way I’d direct it, certainly, but in the moment, that’s the choice we made.

Setting aside the gender implications, this is bad, lazy storytelling, because it dropped an interesting story for a boring story about nerd stereotypes that’s been told a hunded times.  Putting gender back in: part of the reason it’s a boring story is that it’s based on two outdated, sexist assumptions: (1) that women are prizes to be won by men and (2) that men’s needs make for better storytelling. That makes it a poorer choice, but the fact is, we pass up interesting storytelling opportunities all the time, because its easier to be on the same page if we’re lazy.

When looking into the assumption we make on stage, I think it’s really useful to apply the Bechdel Test to our improvisation.

1. It has to have at least two [named] women in it
2. Who talk to each other
3. About something besides a man

[To see the original source of the Bechdel Test, check out this comic, by Alison Bechdel. The actual rule comes from Liz Wallace.]

In most the early scenes, our show didn’t pass this test. The fact is, our culture produces a lot of entertainment that can’t pass this rule, and rather than breaking those patterns, we took them on wholesale.  In one of the next games, I let the audience pick the hero and the villain.  They quickly pointed to the two males I allowed them to choose from.  And of course they did: comics are still trying to find their way out of the same traps other entertainment is, and we’re all so used to the old stories, we easily default to them.

In another sport, known as “Visual Comic Book,” the woman members were given limited and stereotypical roles (nagging mother, sidekick/girlfriend in a tight sweater who was basically useless, Shawarma waitress …) while the men were of course the superhero and the villain and carried out most of the action and plot.
-Tsubame Productions

Again, she’s correct.  I was the narrator, and helped make the choices: again, default choices. In rehearsal, to be fair, the hero was female and the useless sidekick was male, but in the show, we ended up with more stereotypical choices, and again, ended up with a stereotypical story that could have been a lot better with fully realized characters.  Again, gender isn’t the core issue here: bad storytelling is. The gender disparity certainly makes it easier to see, though.

Anyway, we don’t usually get to find out why our audience members walk out, and I think we too often make excuses for them when they do, rather than admitting that something about the show turned them off enough that they didn’t want to spend their valuable time on the show anymore.

I love NERDProv, and I think my fellow improvisers did a great job: it was a really fun show, and we got a lot of compliments. But the criticism was correct too, and we could have done a better job making sure everyone had fun.  Obviously, if we get the opportunity to perform at GeekGirlCon again, we’ll work harder to make sure our show IS better balanced and showcases more female characters (and audience members), but the reality is that it we should have done a better job, no matter where we performed.

As far as solving it, rather than focusing exclusively on gender, I hope we’ll focus on the willingness to tell better, more interesting stories, rather than the old stories of an outdated world that didn’t have room for the narratives and voices that haven’t already been heard to exhaustion.

Starting Fresh

I’ve had blogs, journals, and random collections of ramblings before, but I wanted to get a fresh start, from where I am in my life today, as an improviser, a writer, an (amateur) artist, and a human being.  I’ll mostly discuss improv, which is what I’m most qualified to discuss, but as I believe in blurred boundaries between forms of art, we’ll see where we end up.

So… welcome!