It's Not a Competition by Unknown Thursday, November 17, 2011 - 11

By Contributor Barbara Holm


A few days ago, I worked the door at a comedy club and I also did a short guest spot on the show. The good thing about working the door at a comedy club is that you get to hang out and talk to other comedians a lot. The bad thing about working the door is that you’re stuck in the box office for an hour so you have to talk to other comedians a lot. As I was setting up the cash register, a more established road headliner comedian walked through the doors. Let’s call her Sally.

I said, “Hi, Sally,” (No I didn’t, because that’s not her real name, but just leave the fourth wall alone and go with me, okay?) politely as she came in.

Sally’s face went white with horror and her eyes grew big and she yelped back cheerfully, “Hi!” She disappeared into the show room and came back five minutes later and said, “Hey, Barbara.” I figured she’d forgotten my name earlier, which was fine. We didn’t know each other that well. With an overcompensating smile on her face, Sally said, “I guess I’m closing out the showcase. I’m doing my [regular] set. I’m sure you alternative hipster comics will hate it but you’ll be too busy talking about your ironic hoodies to worry about it.” She winked.

What I should have said was, “No, you’re great. We love your set.” What I actually said was, “This isn’t an ironic hoodie; it’s a UCB hoodie.”

There are not a finite number of spots for female comedians on a show bill.

I don't respond well to catty girl comments. I can’t digest an insult wrapped in a compliment burrito, especially not from people I don’t know that well. Admittedly, I can be incredibly self deprecating, but I try to draw the line when it makes others feel uncomfortable.

Sally blinked. “What’s UCB?”

My face fell, devastated that I would ever have to answer this question. “The Upright Citizen’s Brigade. You know … Amy Poehler, Matt Besser-”

Sally interrupted me, “Oh yeah, of course I know.”

Another comedian, one of my very funny friends, Jesse, approached the ticket booth and quietly started rifling through his notebook while mumbling something about feeling frustrated. “Don’t worry, Jesse,” Sally said, loud enough for the entire bar area to hear. “Barbara here will be your comedy groupie!”

My eyes went black with rage, and I felt an Eowyn from Lord of the Rings-style vehement anger as I looked at her and quietly said, “I ain’t no fucking comedy groupie.”

A comedy groupie is a woman (notice there is no derogatory word for it if a man does it) who is a fan of comedy and has sex with headlining comedians. This person is usually not a comedian herself and has also been referred to as a “starfucker,” “chucklefucker,” and other horribly offensive names. Cute young girl comics will occasionally have this title incorrectly thrust upon them. I am a comedian; I am not riding on my sexuality to get booked on shows, nor am I in comedy for any reason other than to get funnier.

A group of audience members came up to the box office so I turned my attention to them and Sally went down to the green room. When the audience members left, the show started and the box office became very slow. I picked up my copy of Mindy Kaling’s book “Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me?” (which is wonderfully well written and hilarious) and started reading. Sally came back to the box office.

“I’ve been asking about you downstairs,” she said. I looked up from my book, raising my eyebrows. “They say you’re really funny, but I said you’re too thin to be funny.”

I closed my books and folded my arms. This was another backhanded compliment designed to make me feel insecure about my comedic abilities. Deadpan, I said, “Oh, there’s a weight requirement to writing a good joke?”

I can’t digest an insult wrapped in a compliment burrito, especially not from people I don’t know that well.

Sally didn’t answer this and instead indicated my book. “Oh my gosh, that book is too cute. The cover is sickeningly adorable. Of course you’re reading something that cute.”

Defensively, I said, “What could you possibly have against Mindy Kaling?”

“I don’t know who that is.”

I gasped in horror. I was disturbed by the fact that anyone in comedy, let alone someone with a swagger, could not know who Mindy Kaling was. Luckily, before I could say anything, the manager came to tell me to come down to the showroom and get my butt on stage. I packed up the cashbox and headed down. I did really well on the show. Sally, however, bombed. As she was putting on her coat after the show, I said, “Good seeing you, Sally.”

“Good set, Barbie!” she said, in a nasally sarcastic voice.

“What is your problem with me?” I asked.

“I don’t have a problem with you,” she said, her voice rising to a higher pitch to imitate mine.

I shrugged and turned to leave. I hate that female comedians can be so passive aggressively competitive. We aren’t in competition with other women in our profession; we’re in competition with everyone. Men might try to pit us against each other so that they don’t have to compete with us, but we should never do it to ourselves. Women in comedy should work together, help each other up. It’s easier if we support each other instead of using high school passive aggressive backstabby language. There are not a finite number of spots for female comedians on a show. It’s hard enough for us to learn the complexities of the beautiful world of joke writing without having to compare ourselves to every other woman in the show. Also, the people who make comics feel jealous or competitive are exactly the people you should be friends with because they’re funny and ambitious and will push you and support you to be your best. We don’t need to put each other down to look better. I don’t know what’s going to happen with my or Sally’s careers, but I do know that I will never treat a younger funny female comic as a threat when I could be trying to make a friend.



Barbara Holm is a stand-up comedian from Seattle, Washington. She has performed at Bridgetown Comedy Festival, The Women in Comedy Festival, and Bumbershoot Festival. She has been described as clever, creative and unique.

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