Five snouts up for Netflix’s “Nanette” comedy special with Hannah Gadsby. When my husband said, “do you want to see a Netflix special with a female comic that’s supposed to be pretty good?” I quickly agreed. The first hour of the 2-hour special is very funny, Hannah Gadsby makes us laugh about what it was like to grow up in small town Australia as a lesbian who looks like a “bloke” and “has all this going on” (she says, waving her hands at her body).
After that hour we took a mid-way bathroom and tea break and rejoined our hero. At that exact moment, this comedian takes a sharp departure from, well, comedy and starts instead to tell the truth about her life. In so doing, she unpacks the difference between comedy and reality, what it was really like to grow up a lesbian androgynous looking female, and to raise some hard questions about how men treat and see women.
She does this on stage in front of a few thousand people, which is, frankly, awe-inspiring. And for parts of it, she sounds really really angry and you can feel how uncomfortable that makes absolutely everyone.
It made me realize how very seldom I have seen women be really really angry in front of men about what it’s like to be a woman. In fact, if I Google “woman who screamed at” only Ana Maria Archila screaming at (Senator) Jeff Flake in the elevator after the Brett Kavanaugh hearing pops up. This should be an indication of how seldom a woman screams at anyone in public.
For me, personally, what most catches my attention is when Hannah wondered what it is that white men are so angry about. Why do the men who rule the world have fragile egos? Why shouldn’t they be the most secure people ever?
Lately I have been thinking about that a lot. I have previously shared this video about how “why I’m not racist is only half the story” — in it Robin DiAngelo educates us about “white fragility” and how when we deflect and defend and justify our behavior as white people, trying to prove that we’re not racist, we make it much harder for people of color to be open with us, and we prevent the very change we say we are for.
And ever since that video, I’ve wondered also about “male fragility” and how it functions to keep the patriarchy intact. From the time I was a young girl, I was socialized to be sensitive to the male ego. Ironically, I did not have a father with a fragile ego. He was pretty secure in his manhood. Nonetheless, my southern belle of a mother taught me that it was an essential component of successful womanhood to never demean men, make them feel small, to never insult their egos.
For years, even as a “feminist,” I have had a part of me that has had pride at how well I get along with, work with men. “Men feel comfortable with me,” and “I have a way of talking to men” are thoughts I have had. Even as a strong, loud, opinionated woman, I have largely observed and enforced the related guideline that women are not allowed to discuss “women’s” subjects in mixed company. But, perversely, men’s subjects are everyone’s subjects. So if men want to discuss sports, or geek out on country music in front of a group of women, or make dick jokes, women must quietly listen or occasionally come up with a question to ask. If women want to discuss menstruation or Barbies or their armpit hair, they are advised to wait for an all female gathering.
Falling asleep after watching Hannah’s special, I realized that my taking pride in my “way” with men reflects a deep internalization of the patriarchy, but also that it reveals a fundamental mistrust of the men around me. All my life I’ve been surrounded by wonderful, kind, loving, feminist men. I’ve never been sexually assaulted, or even harassed. I’ve been safe and loved. I am white. I am happily married to a man. I am affluent. I am highly educated. I am ridiculously articulate. I am American.
If I can’t get angry at men about the condition of women, who can? If I can’t speak my truth, who can? If an Australian lesbian comedian who looks like a bloke can speak her truth in front of men, then so can I.