Harassment in the comedy world
New Zealand’s comedy industry is working to eradicate harassment after several high-profile incidents overseas. Alison Mau reports.
‘‘You know that moment when you see your dad cry? It was like that.’’ It’s the only joke comedian Donna Brookbanks cracks in an hour-long conversation – but on this occasion, the Funny Girls and improv star is not looking for laughs. Nursing a flat white in an Auckland cafe, Brookbanks is describing the moment the comedy industry’s senior men were told the results of a survey detailing harassment, assault and rape of women on the comedy circuit.
‘‘The men were visibly shocked,’’ Brookbanks admits.
A group of senior women – big names like Michelle A’Court, Justine Smith and The Fan Brigade’s Amanda Kennedy and Livi Reihana – had already presented the results, in which 48 women told their stories of serious abuse, discrimination and bullying to a women-only hui at the Grey Lynn Community Centre. Kennedy and Brookbanks read out the anonymised testimonies, word for word, to a silent room; ‘‘we had to take turns because it was so horrific.’’
The survey results appear to have opened the eyes of the industry’s major players – and not just women – to a gaping hole in health and safety practices. The first-hand accounts of harassment showed a patchwork of separate codes of conduct had, emphatically, not kept those women safe in venues around the country. Perhaps it shamed those who’d not already put the obvious powerimbalance issue together in their heads; young women, some of them teenagers, working in an industry dominated by older men, mostly at night, and mostly in bars.
New Zealand comedy’s #MeToo moment was by no means unique; a wave of concern had already swept the international circuit. In June, Irish comic David Reilly publicly confessed he was ‘‘embarrassed and remorseful for the pain caused’’ after social media posts from women accused him of harassment. Weeks later, several British comedians were named in similar posts and Tez Ilyas resigned from an industry body, admitting his past behaviour had been ‘‘unacceptable.’’
The Live Comedy Association issued a statement acknowledging a ‘‘culture of abuse, misconduct and harassment’’ within British comedy.
The local scene had spawned rumours of bad behaviour already, but Brookbanks thinks the international developments gave the process a kick along.
‘‘I think it just made people feel more comfortable about coming forward about things,’’ she says of the survey results.
Within a month, a working group had formed with representatives from venues, management outfits, performers, peak industry body the Comedy Trust and organisers of the Comedy Festival. A month later, after consulting with sector experts, a safety network group had a draft set of policies and practices it says will provide a pathway for survivors of harassment and abuse to lay complaints, have them resolved, and make the industry a safer place to work.
Few industries have managed to move this fast; moreover, as the Comedy Festival’s Kirsty Lafferty admitted on releasing the drafts to the Sunday Star-Times, trying to make policy for an entire industry rather than a single workplace was tough.
In fact that word – workplace – is itself a slippery term to use when talking about the comedy scene.
‘‘One thing we’ve noticed when ... we’re talking about this, is that comedians are not employees,’’ Scott Blanks, ‘‘grandfather’’ of the Auckland comedy scene, says of the stars and newcomers who entertain at the Classic Comedy Club and Bar he set up in Auckland’s Queen St 23 years ago.
‘‘They’re all contractors, and when we first got consultants in to look at the issues they said, ‘well, what do your employment contracts say’? And we said – ‘we don’t have any, they’re not employees’. And they said, ‘that’s difficult because it means the Employment Relations Act does not apply to your
‘‘Like many male comedians I’m in the process of retrospectively going through my memories and thinking, what did I actually see? I want men to be involved ... because that’s what it means to be a professional.’’ James Nokise, left
business’.’’ Blanks points out his bar staff, along with the production staff, bookers, managers and others who work in the industry are on employment contracts, and all have a part to play.
He says the fix settled on by the working group is a strict industry-wide Code of Conduct that will replace the patchwork of ad-hoc rules (or lack of rules) that apply in venues across the country.
‘‘Before you work on these premises, here is a Code of Conduct you must read and sign, and every time you come onto these premises (to work) you must adhere to it. If you don’t, then we have grounds to remove (you) and potentially, for taking things further.’’
Blanks describes comedy in New Zealand as ‘‘maturing’’.
‘‘We’ve gone from a family (20 years ago) to a community, to an industry. There are responsibilities that apply when you are an industry.’’
The Classic operates as a cornerstone of that industry and must set the bar for other, less formal venues.
‘‘The management and staff in those venues … will have very little experience with comedians and I can see where things would go awry there. It’s important that the performers feel they can do something about that.’’
Two-time Billy T Comedy Award nominee James Nokise – lauded for his Eating Fried Chicken in the Shower series – jumped aboard the working group with a history of harassment education work (for RespectEd, formerly the Sexual Abuse Prevention Network) already under his belt.
The key thing that drove his involvement, he says, was the need to engage the industry’s men in the overhaul and along with others, he is reevaluating his own recollections.
‘‘Like many male comedians I’m in the process of retrospectively going through my memories and thinking, what did I actually see? I want men to be involved ... because that’s what it means to be a professional.’’
Not everyone will be. Insiders the Sunday StarTimes spoke to agree there are three or four problematic players in comedy, but shy away from confirming names. Convincing women who have been affected to speak up is also difficult, and both of those issues arise for the same reason; the industry is tiny, everyone knows everyone, gossip is rife and careers are tenuous.
One ‘bad’ move and you might never get booked again. Unfortunately, it seems only the young women (when they’ve been brave enough to talk about what happened to them) have been branded troublemakers and have had to choose – truth or their comedy career dreams. The (male) alleged perpetrators sail on.
Brookbanks: ‘‘In this industry – and it’s similar for acting – there’s a worry that if you speak out you’re not going to get booked, especially if (the allegation) is against a well-known comedian who has a lot of influence.’’
One young woman who agreed to talk to the Sunday Star-Times about her experiences later withdrew permission for her comments to be used, saying it wasn’t worth the risk.
That leaves the big question hanging – if women performers don’t trust they’ll be safe, what practical good can the working group’s grand plans achieve?
Brookbanks says the group wants to encourage people to come forward with their complaints: ‘‘(We) will do everything within our power to ensure that they don’t suffer any career repercussions.
‘‘But we do realise how difficult it can be for people to go through this process, and we understand why they might not feel comfortable coming forward.’’
Blanks: ‘‘It’s quite difficult to get people to complain. People are worried about being perceived as troublemakers, and I can appreciate that now.
‘‘One of the important things here is to show people I am prepared to take action, and if you complain, that will be followed up.’’
He agrees that trust in the process might only come when women are able to see actual consequences will follow when a complaint is upheld. What might that look like? Although Blanks says he has only booted out a handful of people in more than 20 years at The Classic, any breach of the new Code of Conduct will give him grounds to do so.
‘‘If there was an assault, I can guarantee the person who committed the assault would not be coming back. It’s very easy not to programme people, and then they’re only coming here as a punter [and] as a licensee I can refuse [entry] to anyone I like.’’
The group is asking all performers to help enforce the new code, by insisting it be upheld at comedy venues. Producers and venue managers ‘‘not toeing the line’’ could find comedians will no longer work for them. That’s the theory, anyway. Blanks says while they wait for that theory to be tested, there are other fixes to be getting on with.
‘‘Immediately, there are things we could do here [at The Classic], even just addressing the balance of power. Let’s not have too many lineups that have 10 men on it and one woman. Even if those are the best 10 men you can find, there’s still an imbalance there.’’
The proof will be when performers come in and feel the changes themselves, he says.
‘‘They feel, ‘hey this is better, the green room feels better, I’m not getting introduced onstage any more by a misogynist introduction’. By seeing that things have changed in some areas, might help people to be more secure in coming forward in others.’’