'Bridesmaids' is Ambitious, and as Complex as Its Main Character

By Contributor Meghan O'Keefe


Bridesmaids is a funny and charming film. Like Clueless, Romy and Michelle's High School Reunion and Mean Girls, it will probably be quoted by teenaged girls and drunk twenty-somethings for the next decade or two. Is it the groundbreaking comedy masterpiece that some people were hoping? No. It's not going to reinvent how comedians approach their writing or performances. It will, however, help bring more female comedians to the forefront. So, in that way, it's a completely successful film. It's funny, is doing great box office business and shows producers that women can carry comedy films.

The movie follows Annie (Kristen Wiig) as she copes with her life falling apart at the same time that her best friend Lillian (Maya Rudolph) is getting married. Kristen Wiig is probably best known for her large, over-the-top, "look at me" characters that she performs on "Saturday Night Live." The weird thing is, I think Wiig's greatest talent isn't pushing herself to the extreme, but revealing truth through nuance. Thankfully, Bridesmaids gives her the opportunity to do both. Whether it's her subtle facial reactions to anything the snooty Helen (Rose Byrne) says or having a temper tantrum at a fancy bridal shower, Wiig brings the funny and she brings it hard.


The rest of the cast is also great. In particular, Melissa McCarthy, Rose Byrne and Rebel Wilson stand out with comedic performances that should redefine the directions of each of their careers. If you had told me even one year ago that the biggest star to come out of "Gilmore Girls" would be Melissa McCarthy, I would be nonplussed. I know some of my friends objected to her characterization in the trailers, but she really comes off as the biggest discovery in this film. She's fearless and finally breaks out of "sweet supportive best friend" mode. Byrne is the only actress without a comedy background, so it's delightful to see her nail every angle of Helen. She was great in Get Him To The Greek, but I think after this film we'll hopefully see her transition from supporting dramatic roles to starring in comedies. I was unfamiliar with Rebel Wilson before this film, but after seeing her bizarre roommate schtick, I want more. I expect American producers will, too.

If these three women were able to stand out, then it has to be noted that it was very disappointing to see Maya Rudolph, Ellie Kemper and Wendi McLendon-Covey being woefully underutilized. Rudolph gets very little opportunity to flex any of her comedic muscles. She's the sweet best friend caught in the middle of Annie's breakdown, so everything she does is to ground everyone else around her. Kemper and McLendon-Covey are set up to have hilarious character arcs, but the story stops following them halfway through the film. Each of these women shine when they have a chance, but you get the feeling that some of their best moments may have been cut to accommodate the larger story.

If Bridesmaids has one great weakness, it's that it's trying to be too many things for too many people at once. What this means is that there's something for everyone, but it also means that everyone I've spoken to about the film is disappointed that there wasn't more of one specific thing. It's an ensemble comedy, it's a gross-out fest, it's a love story between best friends, it's a coming-of-age film, it's a romance film, it's a study in a woman's breakdown, it's an argument for never having children (seriously, every child in this film is a foul-mouthed hellion), it's a springboard for previously unknown comedic talent, it's Kristen Wiig's first starring vehicle and it's an ode to the cuteness of puppies. The film does it's best to address all of these angles (and it does do a good job), but you get the feeling that so much was cut. How did an Irish man become a Minnesota police officer? Does Annie start making plans for a new bakery at the film's close? What happens to Ellie Kemper and Melinda McLendon-Covey's characters? How did Annie know Bill Cozbi and her mother had AA in common? WHO'S CAROL?? I'm sorry, but if you drop Melanie Hutsell in as Annie's tennis partner then I need to know where she came from and why she also hates Helen.

In a way it's really good that I desperately want to know more about all the little flourishes in Bridesmaids's world. It shows that the film exists in a dense universe and that there are more stories to be told. But it's also a sign that maybe there was a lack of focus in production. In the press coverage for Bridesmaids, it was revealed that producer Judd Apatow was the mastermind behind the raunchier parts of the film. He created the "ladies in pretty dresses puke and poop all over the place" scene and pushed for the film to be called Bridesmaids instead of its working title, Single. Apatow's influence on the film seems to be about taking a film that focuses on one woman's spiral into and out of self-loathing and turning it into a riotous crowd-pleaser. It's also clear that the film still doesn't know whether it's about a bunch of bridesmaids or that single woman. The first half is set up like the uproarious female ensemble comedy that the billboards advertised, but after a scene where Annie acts out on a plane, the film drops the group and follows only her. What's interesting is that I enjoyed both movies that Bridesmaids was trying to be. I loved watching a group of brilliant female comedians work off of one another, but I also loved the way Annie's story highlighted that people need to take responsibilities for their mistakes and stop blaming others for their own setbacks.

Bridesmaids will be remembered as an incredibly ambitious film. People will probably remember that this film was touted as the ground-breaker for female comedies, but it's the scope of the story itself that's also ambitious. What's amazing is that the film, while not perfect, doesn't disappoint. It shows women as funny, unique and complex. Hopefully, this signals that in the future we'll get to see more funny, unique and complex women in movies. Because, seriously, we're all funny, unique and complex and it's about time Hollywood took notice.

Meghan O'Keefe is a comedian in NYC. She covers this topic and more at megsokay.tumblr.com.

Review: Tina Fey's 'Bossypants'

By WICF Contributor Meghan O'Keefe

Tina Fey's new book!

It’s the book many of us have been waiting for: Tina Fey’s Bossypants. It’s the first book by Saturday Night Live's first female head writer and it’s a compelling look inside what makes one of the most successful comediennes in history tick. But enough with the bombast and set-up, is Bossypants any good?

Yes. It’s very good. It’s an amusing and fast read. Is it as good as the critics and fans are saying? I honestly wasn’t as impressed with Fey’s prose writing style as I thought I would be. Then again, as an English major, I tend to be more judgmental than the average reader. Also, I don’t know why people are saying it’s “laugh out loud funny.” People are claiming that they broke into hysterics while reading it. Maybe I’ve just been jaded by a year of New York City open mics, but I found most of the humor to be reliant on sarcasm and that’s tricky to pull off in print. Also, she plays a lot of games with “fake names” for people which I personally didn’t find that funny. Still, these critiques are highly subjective and based on my own personal tastes.

I absolutely loved all the tiny details she included about her time at Second City, Saturday Night Live and 30 Rock. I loved hearing about how her Second City touring group rebelled and wrote their own material, or how Cheri Oteri was turned down for a part in favor of Chris Kattan in drag, or finding out which writers wrote which specific jokes for 30 Rock. On a personal note, I can’t tell you how surreal it is to read about her time on the road with Ali Farahnakian while you’re waiting on line for Shake Shack and then to head over to the P.I.T. for your Level 3 Grad Show, only to see Ali walk by you in the theater bar. I almost wanted to pull the book out of my purse and cry, “You’re in this book I’m reading!” But I restrained myself because a part of me still wants to be taken seriously.

Tina Fey and Amy Poehler as Sarah Palin and Hillary Clinton.

As you guys may or may have surmised, I’m an improv/Saturday Night Live/comedy writing nerd, so seeing the entire Sarah Palin and Hillary Clinton cold open in print (with the last minute dress rehearsal edits handwritten in the margins) was amazing. I almost wish the book was just stories about how sketches were written. So, I wish there was more comedy nerd stuff. That said, I also kind of feel like if it’s supposed to be a memoir—which there’s debate about whether or not it is—then there should have been more personal stuff.

Here’s the tricky thing about Tina Fey as a writer, comic and public personality: she refuses to be vulnerable. “Oh, but Meghan,” you protest, “she shares embarrassing photos from her childhood! She cracks jokes about her acne! She’s so self-deprecating! She talks about her grooming habits!” The thing about that is Fey’s self-deprecation about her looks has become something like armor for her. She’s tread that ground so many times, it’s not like she’s really revealing anything terribly painful. It’s like in a recent episode of Glee (I can’t believe I'm referencing Glee here, but the specific moment hits the nail on the head), where Rachel sings this overwrought original song about being raised without a mother and Finn calls her out on using “easy pain” for her art. His point was that even though it sucks that Rachel didn’t have a mother, Rachel is comfortable exposing this pain. She’s not really risking her heart and soul by revealing the dark stuff she keeps buried. No matter how much we, the audience, want to know what inspires Fey’s art and what haunts her soul, we’re never going to find out.

Tina Fey at a book signing.

In a weird way, by refusing to reveal awkward, painful or personal details, Fey reveals a lot about her personality. Fey’s humor has always been based on wit and intellectual strength. She thinks people who air their dirty laundry (or even have dirty laundry) are worthy of scorn. She uses peoples’ interest in how she got her scar as a litmus test for their morality. Her deepest wish is that she can instill a sense of shame in her daughter the way her father did for her. She’s not going to tell us why she loves comedy. She’s not going to reveal what specific childhood trauma being on stage addresses for her. She’s not going to spill the cutesy details of how she and Jeff Richmond fell in love. That’s private. That’s not for us to see.

What’s strange is that she ends up revealing less about her personal life in her “memoir” than she does in talk show interviews. She plays this weird game trying to hide the names of her husband and daughter, when we already know numerous hilarious anecdotes about them from the press. Take the story she has told about how she re-furnished her entire apartment when she learned Oprah was coming over. Her daughter, Alice, immediately brought Oprah over to a bowl of wax pears and said, “These crazy bananas are for you.” I can’t stop thinking about that story when I think about Bossypants. Just as she changed her entire apartment for the arrival of a famous guest, Fey seems to have tidied up her life story so it’s suitable for public presentation. It’s a great presentation, but the huge gaps in the story let us know it’s not the full truth. But she put so much effort into making it all fit into a breezy, quippy narrative, that it’s rather charming. These crazy bananas, fellow readers, are for us.

Is there anything that really disappoints me? Well, I was personally rubbed the wrong way by how emphatically she states that most of her success can be owed to having a strong father figure. I know it’s a very personal reaction, though. My father passed away when I was little and I was raised by a single mother, and so I get kind of incensed when smart people suggest the only way to raise a successful adult is to have a male influence. It certainly helps, but stuff happens. People adapt. You can have a strong father figure and still turn out messed up. Like I said, though, that’s a personal quibble.

As you may or may not be aware, a few months ago I wrote a weird essay about Tina Fey and about my expectations for this book. Essentially, certain chapters of Bossypants were being leaked through The New Yorker, and because I am small and vain and like attention, I felt like I deserved to voice my opinion on certain quotes that I was reading completely out of context. Now that I’ve read these passages in the context of the complete work, I do think that I lot of my anxiety about Fey’s “not-so-feminist-sounding” feminism has been tempered. Between her fawning over Amy Poehler, Maya Rudolph, Cheri Oteri, Kay Cannon, Amy Ozols and childhood friend, Maureen, it becomes clear that Fey loves supporting strong ladies. She even seems to believe her greatest achievement as Head Writer at Saturday Night Live was ushering in a more lady-friendly environment. She says that by the time she left Saturday Night Live, women were frequently working together in ensemble sketches and rarely delegated to thankless girlfriend roles. Fey deserves to be proud of this, but the sticky thing there is that there haven’t been too many female ensemble sketches since she and Amy Poehler left. The only thing I would say there is that it’s a reminder that even though trailblazing women have fought for my generation to have an easier time of things, we can’t take these accomplishments for granted. It’s a constant fight. We’re still far away from a time when we can just assume that women will get equal billing, respect and rights just because other women were able to get it. And as Fey constantly points out, the best way to accomplish this is for ladies to work together as opposed to cross purposes.

If you haven’t read Bossypants yet, you definitely should. It answers a lot about Tina Fey and her work, and raises a lot of new and interesting questions. Most of all, it's inspiring to follow Fey through her career. It's a definite must-read for any woman in comedy. After all, she put together these crazy bananas just for us.

Meghan O'Keefe is a comedian in NYC. She has a blog about herself called "Meghan O'Keefe" and a blog about how her mom watches Game of Thrones called "My Mom Watches Game of Thrones".

My Trouble With Tina

By WICF Contributor Meghan O'Keefe

Little, Brown & Co.

I’m beginning to get very worried about reading Tina Fey’s Bossypants.

The more and more I hear about Tina Fey’s personal opinions about feminism and comedy writing, the more I get weird knots in my stomach. As I get older, I’m finding myself disagreeing more and more with her and as someone who’s primary comedic (and life) influence is Tina Fey, that’s slightly worrying.

Let me back up. I should start by saying that Tina Fey literally changed my life. Before Tina Fey was on Weekend Update, I had a very specific understanding of what a nerdy, quiet brunette who wore glasses and wrote for her high school newspaper could accomplish in life. I was a good girl. I was a smart girl. I was probably going to be a journalist, teacher or book editor. It would be a good life, but one that was based upon honoring rules to a fault. Because I’m a good girl, breaking rules scares me. Order provides security and security provides happiness. When Tina Fey shot to national recognition as the first female head writer of “Saturday Night Live” and co-anchor of Weekend Update, it was as though a huge door had opened for me in my life. A smart girl who loved playing by the rules could bend those rules if she was smart, hard-working and funny. I had had a breakthrough moment like that before. When I was young, I saw Jennifer Saunders ride an airport luggage conveyor belt in an episode of “Absolutely Fabulous.” Something clicked back then in my head: You could break the rules if you were doing it for a laugh. I was a geeky girl in Delaware, though. I couldn’t look at the foreign and fabulous Saunders and see myself in her. But when I read an article about Tina Fey and discovered that she grew up less than a thirty-minute drive away from me and was editor of her high school newspaper as well, I finally felt a kinship with a female comedian. It wasn’t crazy for me to want to be funny; it was natural. I started writing comedy and performing improv. By expressing myself through those art forms, I finally found an inner confidence I’d always lacked and forged friendships with true kindred spirits. Every happiness I have now in life I owe in some respect to comedy, and I owe comedy to Tina Fey.

Meghan, once she became
comfortable as a comedian.

The danger with having one person inspire you to pursue a craft is that you tend to think they are the end-all be-all when it comes to how to approach that art form. In high school, I tried to write poetry like Emily Dickinson and short stories like Katherine Mansfield. I still find myself approaching satire with a Fey-like bite. Somehow, I was lucky enough to know early on I could never be exactly like Tina Fey. She had stated several times that she felt safer and more confident in glasses; I feel more self-assured wearing contacts. That sounds like a really dumb and superficial difference, but it created a crack between how I saw myself and how I saw myself relating to Fey. I knew I would never, ever be exactly like her. I still look at my sketch writing and notice it might be hindered by trying to evoke Fey’s sharpness too much. My sense of humor is deeply rooted in the same mesh of silly and smart that she brings every week to “30 Rock.” However, my voice as a stand up and my opinions as a woman seem very different from Fey.

Maybe the reason I’m worried about what her opinions on feminism and comedy writing are is because she is undoubtedly one of the few women whose opinions on those subjects are widely respected. Fey currently stands as the most successful and, at least, most visible, female comedy writer in America. Her opinion does matter, and because there isn’t another woman who’s obtained her level of notoriety to enter the argument, that opinion becomes fact. Everyone defers to her because, frankly, there’s no one else to defer to. So when, as a young woman and aspiring comedy writer, I find myself disagreeing with a lot of her opinions on womanhood and comedy writing, it puts me on uncomfortable ground. If someone who’s older and wiser has certain opinions on subjects based on life experience, then I, as a neophyte, should certainly defer to them. Right?

Meghan O'Keefe!

Wrong. If Tina Fey has taught me anything, it’s that it’s important to have faith that your point of view as a female comedy writer is important because it’s different from a man’s. Going further, it’s even more important if my point of view as a female comedy writer is different from other female comedy writers, because that means that the diversity of female voices in comedy is equal to the diversity of male voices in comedy. You can’t tell me that Larry David and Adam McKay and Louis CK and Dave Chappelle all approach humor with the same perspective. If they did, comedy would be incredibly boring. The best comedians respect other as writers and performers. They try to learn from each other, but they stay true to what makes them unique. Likewise, female writers should strive to learn from Fey’s example, but also work to step out of her shadow. The biggest thing I’ve learned from Fey’s career is that you need to approach your comedy writing with discipline and intelligence. Unlike Fey, I think sharks and robots are really funny and slut-shaming is kind of in poor taste.

Tina Fey will never stop influencing my work. Even last week, three of the four articles I had published online* referenced Fey in some capacity. As role models go, she’s pretty amazing. So far, she has managed to balance life as a wife and mother while pioneering a new role for women in comedy. I’m really lucky to have someone like her to look up to, but that looking up to someone doesn’t mean that we always have to see eye-to-eye.

Oh, and I’m still probably going to read Bossypants and obsess over it.

*I wrote a review of "30 Rock," an essay about Mean Girls (and Clueless), and Fey came up in an interview I did with Jessi Klein.


Reblogged with permission from Meghan's Tumblr, "Meghan is Okay. Just Okay. It's Cool." Meghan O'Keefe is a comedian in NYC.

'Bridesmaids' Has Its Place in the Pantheon

By Contributor Meghan O'Keefe

It’s a movie about women who get into fights with each other over a wedding. We’ve seen it before, right? Quite a few times, in fact. We’ve seen it enough times that although we know a tight script and charming performances can make the story enjoyable, we also know that girl fights and the idea that a wedding day is the most important day of any woman’s life can be jarring to feminist sensibilities.

So why am I getting ridiculously psyched about Bridesmaids and what it means for women in comedy? Look at that line-up:

• Melissa McCarthy started her career as a PA on her cousin Jenny’s sketch comedy show and as a stand-up comic. Then, she was on “Gilmore Girls” — you know, that show lauded for its quippy dialogue, ability to balance heart with comedy, and dense collection of fully realized background characters. Now she’s on one of the highest-rated sitcoms in the country (love it or hate it, it’s TRUE). McCarthy has comedy cred.
• Wendi McLendon-Covey was a member of the Groundlings from 2002-2009. So, she has straight up improv comedy cred. Add to that her time on “Reno 911!,” and we’re talking obscene comedy cred.
• Ellie Kemper started doing improv at Princeton and then went on to be in Big Black Car at the P.I.T. in NYC. You guys know Big Black Car, right? Kristen Schaal, Kurt Braunohler, and Matt Oberg’s troop. Everyone on that team is an improv god. Oh, yeah, she’s also on “The Office.” Kemper has serious comedy cred.
• Kristen Wiig. Um … do I need to start? Groundlings, “Saturday Night Live,” bit parts in numerous Apatow productions and other comedies. She’s considered by many to be the star of “Saturday Night Live” right now. Wiig clearly has massive comedy cred.
• Maya Rudolph. Again with the Groundlings and again with “Saturday Night Live.” Do I even need to affirm Rudolph’s comedy cred?
• Rose Byrne. The lone dramatic actress in the bunch. However, she is an amazing character actress and character actors usually acquit themselves brilliantly with comedy. She already did with her Lily Allen-meets-Cheryl Cole impression in Get Him to the Greek. Byrne doesn’t have comedy cred, per se, but she’s got credibility.

Why did I spell all this out? Because we’re looking at the first ensemble female comedy that boasts an ensemble of female comedians. These are not pretty ingénues put in a high school comedy with a couple of supporting assists from “SCTV” alums. This is a pantheon of comedy goddesses. Yes, Fey & Poehler did Baby Mama, but that’s a buddy film. Yes, I’m aware of a film called Spring Breakdown, but it was released straight to DVD. Look at this poster. The producers mean business. They mean for this to be as big a summer comedy as Wedding Crashers, The Hangover, or Knocked Up.


I had to write an article recently about the issue of female comedies and why a lot of them are dismissed as chick flicks by the comedy mainstream. During my research (which was super serious and involved drinking a lot of wine while watching movies while wearing a fish hat) I realized that maybe the reason a lot of female comedies aren’t given much thought by male comedians is because the actresses in them don’t often come from a comedy background. These women have those chops. Male comics are sitting up and buzzing about this film. So, if this film does do great box office, it’ll show that women who come from stand up, improv and “SNL” can star in comedies and pull in the same money that male stars from those backgrounds do. Which means … more female comedians in starring roles in comedies. Big deal, guys. HUGE. The film could be about knitting circles or a finishing school. I wouldn’t care. The very existence of this film is a pro-female statement.

So, that’s why I’m crossing my fingers and holding my breath that Bridesmaids is an incredibly funny film. It should be. I mean, look at that talent. These women could hiccup hilariously on camera together for two hours and it would be amazing. More importantly, I’m hoping that people turn up to see it. I’m hoping that the box office receipts reflect the talent involved because, in Hollywood, money makes the big decisions. So, I know already no matter how broke I am come May 13, 2011, that I’m going to see this film in the theaters. Anyone else want to join me?


Meghan O'Keefe is a comedian in NYC. She covers this topic and more at megsokay.tumblr.com

A Woman in Stand-Up Comedy (WISC)

By Contributor Meghan O'Keefe

I’ve always liked being a girl. I was raised to think that being a girl meant I could do anything I set my mind to. I could be smart, funny, athletic, strong, caring, or any other wonderful adjective you could think of. I never felt that being a girl made me in any way weaker than a guy. That is, I never felt that way until I moved to New York and started doing stand-up comedy.

The first time I went to an open mic, I felt it. I looked around the room and immediately knew I was the odd girl out, and by "odd girl out," I mean "one of the only girl comics in the room, and for that matter, the only girl in the room wearing a cute skirt, dangling earrings, smoky eye shadow and her hair in carefully styled curls." Every insecurity I had about trying stand up for the first time was amplified by the fact that I clearly did not fit in. When I was finally called to the stage, I did terribly. I went up without a notebook, without a tape recorder and without a clue. I was unprepared for what the spotlight would feel like or how unnerving it would be standing in front of 40 jaded comics who were waiting for me to get off stage so they could have their time. Even the mic stand terrified me. An inanimate object intimidated me because I had no idea how it worked. I completely blanked on my material and as I sat back down I realized that even if I hadn’t blanked the crowd wouldn’t have liked it because my ideas were just too … girly.

I had never before felt as though my girlishness was a weakness. If anything it was an edge. When I had done improv and sketch comedy in Boston, I knew that even though I was probably never the funniest person in a room, my point of view was important because it was a girl’s. But in the New York stand-up scene I felt like a freak. A super girly freak. Everyone else seemed cool and cynical and brooding and I was spastic and hopeful and upbeat. Even my brightly covered spiral bound notebook clashed against everyone else’s sleek, black, little moleskins.

Somehow, this feeling of not fitting in made me want to pursue stand up even more. I have this weird thing where if you tell me I can't accomplish something, I become determined to prove you wrong. My drive quadruples if you tell me the reason I can’t accomplish it is because I’m a girl. In fact, it’s no longer a challenge, but a game. The truth was, I really liked doing stand up. As terrifying and uncomfortable as all those open mics were, I felt like I was unlocking a new creative side of me. The only thing that really upset me about stand up was “the girl issue.” For the first time in my life, people were calling me “pretty” to my face, and for the first time in my life, it was the last thing I wanted to hear. I would get off stage and the host would say, “Isn’t she pretty?”, and all I could think was, “Yeah, but was I funny?” I felt like no one took me seriously because of how I looked and it frustrated me to no end.

Because I had just moved to New York and because I had just started stand-up comedy, I didn’t have the same support system of female comics to turn to that I did in Boston. I didn’t know who to talk to about the problem without sounding like a whiner baby. So, I did the classy thing and I googled every established female comic’s name I could think of, hoping for some insight into how they dealt with the issue. Finally, I came across an interview with Julie Klausner in which she gave some advice:

Q: With all of the recent talk of women comedy writers on late night TV, what advice would you give to women who aren't mousy, who take pride in the way they dress and are decidedly feminine, yet are also funny as hell and deserve a chance to work alongside their schlubby comedy peers?

A: Just advice that anybody who isn't crazy or stupid would give–don't let anybody make you feel so bad it gets in your way, and do the work you love. If it's a matter of figuring out which of your friends make you feel awful, by all means get rid of the ones that do. But if you want to succeed, make sure your work is so good that it speaks for itself, so you could come into the office wearing a pink tutu, ala The Rock in The Tooth Fairy, and your colleagues will be like, "Yay! You are here! Who gives a shit that you are crazy!"

Something finally clicked in my head. The other comics weren't cold to me because I was a girl. They were cold because I was new, inexperienced, and wasn't working a fraction as hard as the rest of them. I didn’t go to a lot of mics or shows and I had yet to kill on stage. I hadn’t paid my dues yet. Suddenly the whole weight of "I'm a girly girl and that's why they hate me" was gone. I realized that I had mistakenly displaced a lot of my anxiety about being new to comedy on my gender. I didn’t need to worry about what people thought about what I was wearing; it didn’t matter what I was wearing. I needed to worry about my comedy.

So, I applied myself. I started going to three mics a week, then five, then seven, now I aim for at least eight. I tried my best to be humble at all times. I told myself to never get mad at the audience for not laughing. I attempted to look at every mic as a privilege and not an onus. I didn't bother people I barely knew before the mics when they were writing. Somehow during this transition period I managed to write my first good joke. I know it was a good joke because it's the first joke I've ever written that will always get a laugh. And because as soon as I wrote that joke, other comics started to talk to me like I was one of them. I was no longer the silly new girl who was interloping into their world; I was the silly new comic who was working hard and who also happened to be a girl.

Meghan O'Keefe: A girl, her stage, and a mic

I'm not saying sexism in comedy doesn't persist. It does. It's ugly and horrible and still exists in small, but loud, corners of the New York comedy scene. There still is an unmistakable boys’ club vibe at most open mics and stand-up comedy shows. However, I've also been told by bookers and producers that it's somehow easier for women in comedy. How? Because we're in demand. In my own personal experience — and this is limited to Boston and New York — the really talented and smart men who are in comedy today (i.e. the ones that matter) are all really rooting for women in comedy to succeed. I can't tell you the number of times I've heard male comics gush about how Maria Bamford is their favorite stand up (male or female) working today. I've heard guys quote Brooke Van Poppelen and Jessi Klein material to help make a conversational point. Don't even get me started on how much they all adore Kristen Schaal, Amy Poehler, and Tina Fey. And those are just the big names. There are dozens upon dozens of strong, smart, talented female comics who are making their way up the stand-up comedy ladder in New York who boast male comics as their best friends and most ardent supporters.

I guess what it's taken a long time for me to say is that if I'm doing poorly, I never want to blame it on being a girl. There's no problem with me being a super girly comedian because there's nothing wrong with being super girly. If I'm not getting the laughs or spots I want, I have to examine why my comedy isn't working — not my gender. There will be people who don’t like me only because I’m a girl. Some of them will be bookers and producers and other such gatekeepers of the comedy world. But I don’t think I can convince a sexist to book me by whining about his (or her) sexism. I think the only way to conquer that is to be the funniest person I can be. The phrase for it that I keep hearing and reading is you have to be "undeniably funny." You know, so good at it that no one can deny your talent no matter what you look like, what you sound like or what you talk about onstage. It’s an idea that doesn’t just apply to female comics, but every comic.

I know that because I am still ridiculously new I still haven’t seen every side to this issue. I’m sure down the road many of my opinions on this topic will change, but I hope my attitude doesn’t. At this point, I don’t see how being bitter about sexism is going to help me be funnier. I think focusing on my comedy is the only thing that’s going to help me become funnier, so that’s what I’m going to do.


Meghan O'Keefe is a comedian in NYC. She blogs at megsokay.tumblr.com — check it out to find out when and where to catch her, live!