"It’s because you’re a woman.”
Despite being little more than a set of words on a laptop screen, I could feel their intent. They were meant to provoke, delivered with a sneering amusement that I was all too familiar with. “Sorry?” I wrote, “Please explain.” His response was as I suspected. “Chill, I’m f---ing with you.”
It was the closing comment of a tense Facebook conversation I was having with an old friend and amateur stand-up comedian. I had contacted him with a very misinformed question about the sign-up requirements of a local show. He responded by saying I was “too green” and by telling me (as condescendingly as possible) I would have to perform somewhere else.
I was angry. It was the only show that happened on my one night off a week. Besides, who was he to say that I was “green”? I have played plenty of comedy sets in other cities over the course of two years; I have even collected recordings of my best sets in the event I would need to submit something for evaluation.
To be fair, I didn’t know his answer was rooted in practice; this club only invited comics they had seen perform live. However, his wording made me feel as though I was just some stupid little girl picking up a microphone for the first time. I responded with an arrogant retort that I’m not proud of.
While normally I wouldn’t have behaved so poorly, I was tired of being spoken down to, especially by male comedians. As a female comic, I’ve met some incredibly talented and respectful men who are great at what they do.
However, I’ve also dealt with everything from emcees making lewd comments about me onstage to comedians giving me constant and unsolicited advice. “You know you have to tell your own jokes, right?” one once asked me. “The last time we had a girl in here, she didn’t know that.” Granted, that club was exceptionally archaic, but the memory stuck.
The worst part about those situations is that I was more or less expected to deal with them as “part of the territory.” Even mild dismay was greeted with, “Hey, lighten up, it was just a joke” or “This is how it works.” Don’t get me wrong: I completely understand the importance of having a thick skin in comedy. I’ve even been the butt of sexist jokes I thought were genuinely funny. This was because they were clever, self-aware and, most importantly, easily recognizable as jokes.
In contrast, the other remarks were merely blatantly rude comments, disguised as jokes in order to save face.
Regardless, I knew I had somewhat projected my negative experiences on to the conversation I was having with my friend. While his tone had definitely been condescending, I shouldn’t have immediately assumed it was based on gender bias. I apologized for any presumptuous remarks I had made, and I tried to elaborate on the past events that led me to make them.
Unfortunately, it was a little too late. “Stop trying to explain yourself,” he wrote. “I don’t care.” After a few more fruitless attempts to restore peace, I gave up.
None of it really bothered me. Then he said it. “It’s because you’re a woman,” followed by, “Chill, I’m f---ing with you.”
It was the same weak, lukewarm attempt to backpedal that I was used to from the other comics. It was an excuse to make a mean remark and get away with it in the name of “joking.”
Perhaps in some other context, if we were having a witty conversation full of hyperbolic speech, it would have been fine. Here, however, in the midst of tension and insults, it wasn’t funny. It was just rude. Whether one wants to acknowledge it, casually delivered misogyny such as this is a reality women contend with every day. Personally, I don’t find it all that humorous.
Namwan Leavell is a UF economics senior. Her column appears on Fridays.
