Crazy Rich Asians is being touted as the hit romantic comedy of the summer and a cultural win for Asian-Americans, but not everyone feels that way; the dialogue surrounding this charming and effervescent rom-com has been divisive and complicated.

The criticism Crazy Rich Asians has received for its promotion of the model minority myth and moments of anti-blackness are completely valid, but we also need to be realistic about the role pop culture plays in pushing a truly progressive agenda and the timeline in which that agenda unfolds.

As a poor, fat, queer, mixed Filipina-American, I didn’t relate to Crazy Rich Asians either, but as a person who studied film and works in the entertainment industry, I know better than to look for my story in the mainstream. This movie is not all of Asian American representation. It’s the introductory course that gets Hollywood interested in more complex lessons about our community.

It’s easy to focus our hatred on a tangible product rather than at the larger system. The Joy Luck Club was the last major American film with a majority Asian American cast and it was released 25 years ago. This film too—which is decidedly more serious and more relatable to a larger group of Asian-Americans, continues to receive hypercritical ire for not doing “enough” for the community. But Amy Tan, the author of The Joy Luck Club, and Kevin Kwan, the author of Crazy Rich Asians, have a responsibility as artists to share their truth—however small a slice of truth that is—and it’s unfair to demand that these singular pieces of art speak on behalf of all of Asian America.

This is a complex community—representing 21,655,368 individuals with ancestral ties from over 40 countries— comprised of multiple ethnic groups, social classes, and intersectional experiences.

We need to be realistic about the role pop culture plays in pushing a truly progressive agenda and the timeline in which that agenda unfolds.
Click To Tweet

When Kwan wrote Crazy Rich Asians, he was drawing from his experience as a wealthy Singaporean-American. In a video op-ed for Harper’s Bazaar titled “These are the Real Crazy Rich Asians,” Kevin Kwan says, “How much of my book is based on reality? About 150% of it.” This is the world he lives and knows. For Kwan to write a book based on any other Asian-American experience, but his own would be hollow and disingenuous. To expect more denies the validity of his experience and sets a dangerous precedent for other marginalized writers.

We already have to hide certain facets of our identities when navigating this bigoted world, we shouldn’t have to hide our truth from our own communities. All art deserves criticism, but it’s important to evaluate where that criticism is coming from. Our community’s resentment with Crazy Rich Asians and The Joy Luck Club has less to do with the actual films and more to do with the painful truth that Hollywood continues to deny our multicultural and multifaceted existence.

Crazy Rich Asians was never going to be a radical criticism of capitalism, white colonialism, and racism in the United States. The gatekeepers of Hollywood benefit from upholding those systems; to take aim at these systems would take aim at their own power. Despite its self-purported  progressive reputation, Hollywood is a business—a business that made $11.7 billion in 2017—and is still keenly focused on making a profit. And that profit is believed to stem from a film’s ability appeal to the whiter—ahem, wider—American audience.

The disillusionment felt by many Asian-Americans shows that marginalized people are hungry for representation in Hollywood and that they don’t fully understand the trials of filmmaking in a system as bigoted and bureaucratic as Hollywood’s.

There are three major parts to the film production process,  and a film can die at any of these points: Development, Production, and Distribution. For a major motion picture, every step of this process can cost hundreds of thousands of dollars. This goes to pay writers, talent, crew, executives, lawyers, and everyone else involved in the making of the film as well as costs for costuming, location, and props.

It’s impossible to find out how many scripts get passed over by the power players in entertainment, but here are figures from a small facet of the industry.  The Black List is a “an annual survey of Hollywood executives’ favorite unproduced screenplays” founded by Franklin Leonard, a Black Hollywood executive that wanted to get the industry to take chances on scripts that kept getting passed over. Along with the annual survey, the Black List has become a place where unrepresented writers can get feedback and industry eyes on their work.

The Black List “has hosted more than 55,000 screenplays and teleplays” since it started and of those 55,000 only 338 were put into production. Only 6% of the movies that were hosted on the site made it into production, and that’s coming from a place that wants writers to succeed.

With Crazy Rich Asians, the source material was already there in Kwan’s bestselling book. In August 2013, Nina Jacobson, the founder of the production company Color Force, bought the adaptation rights to Crazy Rich Asians only 2 months after the book was released. Once the rights were bought, it would be logical for production to start soon after. Well, that’s when the production entered its personal “Development Hell”— an industry term for a project that’s stuck in the development stage for years.

Crazy Rich Asians didn’t start production until 2017 for many different reasons, including a scheduling conflict with lead actress Constance Wu, due to her role on Fresh off the Boat. Roadblocks like this aren’t uncommon for productions, especially feature films. All of the normal struggles that a feature film faces—script, crew, actor changes, going over-budget, licensing issues, etc.—are heightened when the film centers on people of color. It is a lot easier to say no to a film that doesn’t have a profitable precedent, so it’s remarkable that people kept saying yes to Crazy Rich Asians at all.

As a poor, fat, queer, mixed Filipina-American, I know better than to look for my story in the mainstream.
Click To Tweet

When people see Crazy Rich Asians in theaters, the logos of the production companies flash before their eyes and the first few names aren’t recognizable to most American moviegoers—SK Global (made up of Sidney Kimmel Entertainment, and Ivanhoe Pictures), Color Force, and Starlight Culture Entertainment. The last logo to fill up the screen is the iconic Warner Bros. Studios shield, with the words “Distributed By” above it. This demarcation as distributor—and not as a production company—is extremely important.

Jacobson knew that if she wanted to make Crazy Rich Asians a reality, she would have to go outside the American studio system for funding, hence the partnership with Ivanhoe Pictures, a U.S.-based Asian film investment group. Starlight Culture Entertainment, one of the other production companies involved, is a giant Hong Kong investment company with stakes in multiple industries aside from entertainment, including chemicals, environmental protection products, and gambling. These production companies are the ones that believed in Crazy Rich Asians.

They are the ones that work on adapting the material and creating a package (attaching a director and producer to a script to make it more marketable). They are the ones that bring their creative assets to distribution companies to get more funding and guarantee that people will get a chance to see it.

According to the Hollywood Reporter, Warner Bros. and Netflix were the two distributors that the creative team behind Crazy Rich Asians had to choose between. Kwan and Jon Chu, the film’s director had to make the final decision. They ultimately chose to go with Warner Bros., despite the lesser offer, because they wanted the cultural impact of a theater release.

As a traditional distributor, Warner Bros. backs the project and sends it out to their distribution channels— theaters, rentals, and personal copies—hoping to make a profit (or at least their investment back) in ticket, DVD, BluRay, and digital download sales. Warner Bros. shares of the profit come back to them, so they can continue the cycle with another film.

The disillusionment felt by many Asian-Americans shows that they don’t fully understand the trials of filmmaking in a system as bigoted and bureaucratic as Hollywood’s.
Click To Tweet

It’s not shocking that Netflix was willing to give Crazy Rich Asians a trilogy deal right off the bat. Netflix, and other digital subscription based distributors, have taken more chances on projects that feature marginalized characters than traditional studios because of their business model. They don’t have to gamble on ticket sales to make their money back—they already have a well of money from subscription fees to draw from. But if Kevin Kwan and John Chu had chosen the initial Netflix payday over Warner Bros. smaller budget, Crazy Rich Asians wouldn’t be a cultural touchstone that sold out theaters for multiple weeks.

The initial goal of any film is to make the backers’ investment back, but the stakes are even higher with minority-lead films. The experiences of people of color are automatically politicized, and subsequently othered. Studio executives don’t think general (i.e. white) audiences will relate to characters of color. They don’t believe that the stories of marginalized communities will succeed (even when it’s been proven they will time and time again).

Girls Trip was only given a $20 million budget (even with the star power of Queen Latifah, Jada Pinkett Smith, Regina Hall, and Tiffany Haddish) and it ended up making $140 million gross—seven times its budget back. Warner Bros. believed in Crazy Rich Asians enough to back it, but gave it a relatively small budget of $30 million considering the high-profile actors and the lavish backdrops, costumes, and set pieces that the story demands. In its first two weeks, Crazy Rich Asians, more than doubled its budget in box office revenue, proving that it wasn’t such a risky bet after all.

The American film industry has largely failed us since its inception in 1907, and will continue to fail the most marginalized of us. Supporting major releases—even begrudgingly—helps convince major studios and distributors to bet on more of our stories. All the odds were stacked against Crazy Rich Asians—a fun, apolitical, rom-com with light-skinned Asians that speak King’s English. It took years of community building and pushing against Hollywood gatekeepers to get this film made. It took allies with power to bet their good standing in the industry on the stories of people of color. It took the cultural groundwork of The Joy Luck Club, Fresh off the Boat, and every bit of honest representation in between.

If people still aren’t content with our victories in the mainstream, seek out and support the underground! There ARE independent filmmakers making the most brown, queer, anti-capitalist Asian-American films you can imagine—like the 2017 short film Salamagan (dir.  Elisah Oh) currently on the film festival circuit.

Organizations like CAAM, CAPE, Kore, and 18 Million Rising, are dedicated to uplifting diverse Asian-American artists through funding, fellowships, film festivals, screenings, and promotion through social media. CAAM’s film festivals feature some of the biggest names in Asian-American entertainment right alongside new talent (and they’re taking submissions right now!)

Many of these organizations have events with actors, writers, directors, and producers at all talent levels because they are meant to uplift our community through art and mentorship. I urge you to take all your anger, disappointment, and pain at Hollywood and Crazy Rich Asians and put that energy into artists and projects you want to see succeed.

Kwan told his story with Crazy Rich Asians. Now, let’s go share our own.

How White Liberals Can Be Allies In Fighting Racism And The Oppression Of Minorities

Someone has to start doing some giving.

YouTube

By Kali Holloway

I n November, the Washington Post reported on an unexpected outcome of the Kevin Spacey sexual harassment scandal: a textbook example of a man being paid more than a woman for doing the same job. Following Stacey’s firing from the movie All the Money in the World, lead actress Michelle Williams received roughly $1,000 to reshoot scenes, less than one-tenth of 1 percent of the $1.5 million paid to supporting actor Mark Wahlberg. Williams and Wahlberg are both represented by the William Morris Endeavor agency, though they have different agents, and director Ridley Scott had previously told USA Today that “everyone did [the reshoots] for nothing,” informational bits that seem to add to the situation’s overall shadiness. For all the exculpatory arguments being floated around the internet (Wahlberg’s agent is the real-life Ari Gold; Williams had a bum contract), a pay difference of 1,500 times remains laughably difficult to justify. Wahlberg donated his reshoot fee to the Time’s Up Legal Defense Fund, along with a statement expressing the kind of sudden interest in gender pay parity frequently sparked by bad press.

The story stands in contrast to Tuesday’s news that actress Jessica Chastain, who is white, used her privilege to help ensure that actress Octavia Spencer, who is black, would receive the pay she deserves but is consistently denied due to racism and sexism. During a panel titled Women Breaking Barriers at the Sundance Film Festival, Spencer described how a conversation about the gender pay gap led to an exchange about the salary advantages white actresses have compared to actresses of color.

“We were dropping F-bombs and getting it all out there,” Spencer joked. “And then I said, but here’s the thing, women of color on that spectrum, we make far less than white women. So if we’re gonna have that conversation about pay equity, we gotta bring the women of color to the table. And I told her my story, and we talked numbers, and she was quiet, and she had no idea that’s what it was like for women of color.”

Chastain suggested they take a “favored nations” approach to salary negotiations on an upcoming comedy project the two will be starring in together. By tying their pay together, the actresses would take home the same paycheck. “Fast-forward to last week,” Spencer said. “We’re making five times what we asked for.”

‘If we’re gonna have that conversation about pay equity, we gotta bring the women of color to the table.’

This is a story that could be horribly misconstrued as a “love see no color” moment in the media, and if it is ever made into a film, Hollywood will surely insist that Sandra Bullock play Chastain. But get beyond whiteness’s reflexive tendency to applaud itself for every millimeter of power willingly given, and there are reasons it’s genuinely noteworthy. Chastain deserves recognition for doing the right thing, and for being the exception that proves the sad rule, unwittingly showing how rarely that happens. As Spencer noted, “People say a lot of things,” but doing is a lot harder. “She’s walking the walk and she’s actually talking the talk,” Spencer said of Chastain. “When it came down to it, she was right there and shoulder to shoulder.”

Performative allyship is always more abundant than action. Whenever a longstanding issue of inequality rises to the level of widespread visibility — meaning the groundswell of horrific stories forces the powerful to recognize what the disempowered have long told them existed — the country enters a period of “national conversation” that rarely goes much beyond words. The trickle-down effect, in terms of substantive corrective actions, can be hard to locate, because all too frequently there’s no there there. What passes for activism is often just virtue theatrics that play well in a society obsessed with optics, but aren’t necessarily aimed at leveling unbalanced playing fields.

It’s been noted again and again that the MeToo movement has overwhelmingly focused on the sexual bullying of white women who have fame and money, while ignoring the daily struggles of the most vulnerable women and non-binary folks. If the women who are calling men out keep failing to call themselves out — or asking men to push for equality while refusing to cede some of their influence — nothing changes. White women’s feminism and advocacy should look like what Chastain did, but it rarely does. We’re left with meaningless hot takes, pussy hats, and Facebook filters. The questions for people who say they want real equity are: what power do you wield and what are you giving up to make that happen? Solidarity is often a top-down matter. Folks on the lower rungs are often overlooked until their fates are linked to those whose presence is given greater value.

White ‘Allies’ And The American Tradition Of Consuming Black Grief

In her 2016 memoir, Taraji P. Henson wrote about how she was paid the “equivalent of sofa change” for her Oscar-nominated supporting role in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, while Cate Blanchett and Brad Pitt received millions. Henson didn’t have the name recognition of her costars at the time, nor the fame she has now, but even with those factors taken into account, the pay disparity seems outlandish given she was a “solid up-and-coming actress with a decent amount of critical acclaim for her work.” She got a low-six-figure deal, the smallest of fractions of her co-stars’ salaries, and was told she’d have to pay for her own hotel accommodations for the three-month shoot.

Henson spells out in her book why the onus is on those with power to speak up:

The math really is pretty simple: there are way more talented black actresses than there are intelligent, meaningful roles for them, and we’re consistently charged with diving for the crumbs of the scraps, lest we starve. I knew the stakes: no matter how talented, no matter how many accolades my prior work had received, if I pushed for more money, I’d be replaced and no one would so much as blink.

Last year, during an interview with Variety, Chastain said she was done “getting paid a quarter of what the male co-star is being paid. I’m not allowing that in my life.” Clearly, she realized it was a declaration that required a concurrent commitment to all the other women in the field to make sure they aren’t subject to starvation economy survival methods. Spencer — who for the record, beat out Chastain in the Oscar’s Best Actress Category — will hopefully receive a pay bump on every film from here on out, though Hollywood’s commitment to sexism and racism make that unlikely. On Twitter, Chastain suggested truly supportive male stars put their money where their mouths are to achieve gender pay fairness. “[Octavia] had been underpaid for so long,” she wrote in the message. “When I discovered that, I realized that I could tie her deal to mine to bring up her quote. Men should start doing this with their female costars.”

Actress Jada Pinkett Smith, speaking at another Sundance talk, drove the point further home.

“It’s nice to go out and march. We can do that. It’s nice to wear black at the Golden Globes — it’s nice to do that. But what are we doing behind closed doors? And I’ve got to give our sister Jessica Chastain her props because she stood up for Octavia and put it down. And that’s how we all need to do it for each other.”

This story first appeared at AlterNet, and is republished here with permission.

]]> https://theestablishment.co/she-got-next-black-female-comedy-writers-talk-the-whitewashing-of-american-tv-ab05d71eb90c/ Mon, 16 Oct 2017 19:26:26 +0000 https://theestablishment.co/?p=3982 Read more]]> ‘We’re still waiting for Hollywood to decide to take advantage of the creativity and moneymaking power of artists of color.’

Lena Waithe. Leslie Jones. Tiffany Haddish. Robin Thede.

Over the last few years, the list of recognizable Black women comedy writers has started growing — finally — thanks in large part to crucial conversations fostered by social campaigns like #OscarsSoWhite, #EmmysSoBlack, and #SheReady.

But — no surprise here — there’s still an incredibly long way to go.

While Lena Waithe was the belle of the ball at this year’s Primetime Emmy Awards by becoming the first Black woman to win an Emmy for comedy writing (for the brilliant Master of None episode “Thanksgiving”), we must not forget the troubling fact that she was also the first Black woman ever nominated for the award.

And while Robin Thede is now hosting her own late night show (The Rundown with Robin Thede, which premiered October 12), we similarly must not forget that she is the only Black woman doing so, and one of only a handful of Black women who’s ever been given this opportunity.

Given our country’s current socio-political landscape, the need for and potential impact of Black women comedy writers is greater than ever — which means we must continue to further the dialogue, to fight for change.

To keep the conversation going, I interviewed four Black women comedy writers to discuss their unique brands of funny, diversity in the writer’s room, the Emmys, and what it’s like to work in television as a Black woman. Our illustrious panel includes:

Actor-Comedian-Writer Ashley Nicole Black

Emmy winner (Outstanding Writing for a Variety Special) for her writing on Full Frontal with Samantha Bee.

Writer Amber Ruffin

Writer for Late Night With Seth Meyers and Comedy Central’s Detroiters.

Actor-Writer Diona Reasonover

Writer for I Love Dick and Adam Ruins Everything

Comedian Janelle James

NYC comic who tours with Chris Rock’s Total Blackout Tour 2017.

Some of their answers might surprise you.

Has the dearth of Black women writers in Hollywood impacted your comedy writing career? If so, how?

Diona: Uh, well just to be super clear about it — there’s a dearth of people who have been employed, but not a dearth of writers. I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t felt like a diversity hire, but I think that’s an unfair way to view myself and also to view the show, because if you look at people as if they’re doing this because they don’t really don’t want to hear what you have to say, then that will come through in the performance that you give.

Amber: Sure. Years ago, Black people were more — we were what white people thought we were, and now everything seems so groundbreaking, and it’s just because it’s Black people as Black people see Black people. Every time you see it it’s shocking and uplifting and it feels great.

Ashley: I feel very lucky to have been ready for this job at the time that Hollywood was ready for me. I have a lovely handful of amazing Black women writers I look up to and am lucky enough to call friends that I can go to for advice and support. If I’d gotten into the business even a year or two earlier, I wouldn’t have had that.

---

I’d be lying if I said that I haven’t felt like a diversity hire, but I think that’s an unfair way to view myself.
Click To Tweet

---

How is your comedy unique? Which part of the Black experience do you write about and why?

Janelle: I’m doing Black girl comedy to white people, which can sound fucked up. I’m unique in that I don’t change or magnify my blackness to perform for white people, while some people — I don’t wanna say they’re doing a caricature, because that’s what they think white people expect.

I’m not really trying to appeal to the ever present white, male, 18–35 demographic that every network says they’re marketing to, although they are my fans. That’s also bullshit: ‘Oh, you’re Black, you’re a woman, you’re older; you won’t really appeal to them.’ It feels like only other Black people will take a chance on other Black people.

Ashley: I write about the issues that emotionally impact me. So often that is things that impact women and people of color. But really anything that makes me angry, or sad, I can turn into comedy.

Diona: What makes my comedy unique is that it really isn’t. I love multi-cam. That’s what I know how to do because that is what I grew up watching. I don’t know that any of us are as unique as we think we are. If you look at TV, it’s like people in their twenties and thirties trying to figure life out. There isn’t as much diversity in the human experience as we would think.

Amber: I’m unique in that I’m the type of person who is having a great time, all of the time. I don’t think that there are a lot of positive views of the Black experience. It [being Black] feels great. After the election, everyone was sad, and yes, I was sad, and I also felt freakin’ great. With every terrible thing, everyone can see what we’ve been talking about all along. Now we’re all on the same page.

How would adding more Black women writers into TV writer’s rooms affect those rooms, as well as the shows that make it onto TV?

Ashley: Audiences are made up of every type of person, so it only makes sense for writer’s rooms to also be made up of a diverse group of people who can properly represent a wide variety of experiences. People are very hungry to see themselves reflected onscreen. I remember when Grey’s Anatomy came out. I cried watching the pilot. It was the first time I’d seen characters on television that were like me. I was in college. Some people have waited even longer than that.

Janelle: It would hopefully pull in more diverse viewership and maybe we’d have less cringeworthy moments like when minorities are talking, and a Black person is watching and saying, ‘A Black person did not write this.’

The face of the show has to be different if you want more minorities to be in the room. Seth Meyers has the most Black women writers in late night. When they write something, he has those writers come out and say it. He doesn’t try to say it. It’s not his voice. Why don’t they [these women] have their own shows?

Diona: I hope that I will never see a thing that drives me absolutely insane: Black women going to sleep with nothing on their heads. It gets baffling for me — you had nobody, you didn’t have a costume designer, a friend, no one to tell you how we go to sleep? Something as simple as that. You don’t know how we go to sleep, and we’re supposed to trust you with our emotional arc?

How did you react when you learned that Lena Waithe won the Emmy for Outstanding Writing for a Comedy Series?

Ashley Nicole Black: I started a standing ovation! I figured when you say, “first Black woman…” regardless of what the rest of that sentence is, I’m standing and clapping. It wasn’t until I was nominated last year that I realized how few people of color have been nominated for and won writing Emmys. And it’s not for lack of talent! It’s for lack of producers having the desire to hire more diverse writing rooms. For the record, Full Frontal has the most diverse late-night writer’s room and we were nominated for an Emmy in our first year, and won in our second! Diversity: It’s a winning strategy!

Janelle James: Yeah, I’m a narcissist. It didn’t impact me in any way….It’s still white people deciding if you’re funny. My ultimate goal is stand-up, to become a Chappelle, a Wanda Sykes.

Diona Reasonover: So I had turned on the Emmys. I was so excited. I had watched the episode. It is such a good episode. I definitely relate to it. I’m also queer. I’m waiting on the category. My TV starts messing up. It froze right there: right when Gina Rodriguez and Shemar Moore came on screen. So I did not find out ’til the next day, and when I did, I was not shocked. She deserved it.

Amber Ruffin: I voted for her! I thought it was beautiful. I didn’t realize that she was the first. I mean, fuck. It’s still happening, Chanté, it’s still — people are still firsts. It is shocking. I don’t believe that there are all of these firsts because we haven’t been good enough. I think that there are all these firsts because people never saw themselves. I think people of color don’t dream big, and white people do. I certainly never thought I’d be where I am…. And I think that that is very silly. I think a lot of Black people feel that way, and I think that every time we see a Lena Waithe, you’re like, ‘Oh, woah, wait a second,’ and then the perception of your whole world changes.

Why do you think that Black people don’t dream as big as white people?

Amber: Just society, the way we’re portrayed in media, society’s expectations of us. It is also safer not to put yourself out there ’cause if a Black person puts themselves out there and fails, people are like, ‘How dare you even think that you could do this?’ But if a white person fails, it’s ‘Better luck next time, kiddo!’

Why do you think that Lena’s nomination was the first time a Black woman was nominated in the comedy writing category?

Janelle: First, it took a minority [Aziz Ansari] to hire her. The whole thing with hiring women of color, people of color — when you’re trying to apply for these jobs, if the head of the show is a white man, if the face of the show is a white man, we have to know how to write in white man speak, and some of us can’t do that.

She [Lena] was able to tell her own story, and that made it authentic, but if we don’t have the opportunity to tell our stories, then we won’t win awards.

Ashley: Television has always been a boys club, and comedy perhaps more so. You can’t get nominated if you don’t get a writing job in the first place. There have been so many studies that show that the more the makeup of the creative team looks like the makeup of the country, the more successful shows and movies are. But we’re still waiting for Hollywood to decide to take advantage of the creativity and moneymaking power of artists of color. We know the audience wants it!

---

Television has always been a boys club, and comedy perhaps more so.
Click To Tweet

---

Diona: I have, honest to God, no reason. There’s no reason for it. There was so much talent, and there wasn’t enough recognition of it. For whatever reason, the people who are in charge just overlooked people for years. I’ll tell you why it’s not: It’s not because there wasn’t enough talent, or because the stories weren’t there, or because people weren’t ready. Definitely people were overlooked, overlooked people who deserved it. That’s all I got….Maybe a little misogyny?

How can our readers support Black women in comedy?

Amber: Consuming what we put out there. It’s also sharing what we put out there. Every Black comedian I know about, I know because someone posted it on Facebook, ’cause it’s not like everybody is out there promoting us. We are aware that if I don’t post this, nobody’s going to know. If I don’t promote it, nobody’s gonna know. A lot of us know each other, and a lot of us are rooting for each other. That’s why when Ashley won, it was a win for us. Black female comedy writers are still so new that we all benefit from everything.

Diona: Watch our stuff. When you hear about a new Black female writer, watch her stuff. If you want to support Black women in comedy — as controversial as it sounds — don’t just watch Black women in comedy. Watch Southeast Asian women in comedy, watch queer people in comedy, watch disabled people in comedy. The more you support diversity, like, across the board, the more diversity there will be.

---

It’s not because there wasn’t enough talent, or because the stories weren’t there, or because people weren’t ready.
Click To Tweet

---

Ashley: Watch our shit! Someone did a study and the majority of people follow mostly white men on Twitter. Make it a point to follow more women and people of color and then like and RT their shit when you enjoy it. If there’s a Black woman serving you jokes and truths on the reg on Twitter, amplify her voice! Go see her live when she does shows. Studios still aren’t convinced that there is a market for our comedy so, if you’re in that market, be loud about it.

Janelle: Stop being cheap. Stop expecting free entertainment; I know that’s a thing now. Support Black writers the same way you support Transformers and The Avengers. When you see a minority putting out work, know that they probably spent their own money to do it. If you want to see more, you gotta fucking support us. People will be like, ‘Give us more!’ but when it’s time to pay $4.99…

Who got next? (Whom should we keep our eyes out for, and why?)

Diona: Yamara Taylor. She writes on Black-ish. She’s wonderful. She’s talented. She’s funny.

Janelle: Issa Rae. It’s their [Insecure’s] first year, so you don’t expect a nomination. Maybe Michaela Coel of Chewing Gum. There are shows like Seth Meyers; If Seth wins, they all win.

Ashley: Great question. Robin Thede’s new show The Rundown will be out soon on BET. And I can’t wait to watch it. Frankly I’m shocked that Amber Ruffin doesn’t have her own late night show yet. I don’t know what networks are waiting for. She’s killing the game!

Amber: I want next. I’ll take next!

What’s next for you?

Amber: I’m writing for Detroiters on Comedy Central.

Janelle: I have an album, Black and Mild, that dropped September 29. I’m also writing for The Rundown with Robin Thede on BET.

Diona: I have a knee surgery coming up.

You can catch me guest starring in a new show, Future Man, on Hulu and writing for I Love You, America, also on Hulu.

Ashley: Right now I’m just trying to find the perfect place in my apartment to put my Emmy!

Everything Wrong With Harvey Weinstein’s Response To Sexual Assault Allegations

The Hollywood mogul’s ostensible mea culpa is a perfectly written example of things not to do when you are apologizing.

flickr/Thomas Hawk

By Kali Holloway

For decades, Harvey Weinstein has served as the real-life inspiration for every tyrannical, foul-mouthed, hot-headed fictional movie studio executive. For pretty much just as long, according to a bombshell report from the New York Times, Weinstein has been serial sexually harassing aspiring young actresses who come into his orbit.

The Times offers a lengthy list of women, some of them now famous, who were allegedly subjected to Weinstein’s lewd overtures, including Ashley Judd, who says Weinstein requested she watch him shower and Rose McGowan, whom Weinstein gave a settlement in 1997 following “an episode in a hotel room during the Sundance Film Festival.”

There were at least eight more hush money pay outs, per the Times, to recipients including “a young assistant in New York in 1990, an actress in 1997, an assistant in London in 1998, an Italian model in 2015 and [former Weinstein Company employee Lauren] O’Connor shortly after.” With a traceable track record like that, it’s almost impossible to believe that there aren’t other women who chose to keep quiet rather than take on one of the most powerful men in Hollywood.

In response to the Times report, Weinstein released a statement that is an ostensible mea culpa but reads more like a perfectly written example of things not to do when you are apologizing. Let’s run through some of the highlights, shall we?

“I came of age in the ’60s and ’70s, when all the rules about behavior and workplaces were different. That was the culture then.”

I came of age at a time when the workplace was where men went to compare dick size with other men, and then we’d have our secretaries — or “skirts,” as we called them — judge who won. Was that bad? Me confused by all these new rules.

On Woody Allen And Hollywood’s Shameful Perpetuation Of Rape Culture

“I have since learned it’s not an excuse, in the office — or out of it. To anyone.”

I’ve learned it’s not an excuse, and yet I still offered it as an excuse, because I’ll level with you here: I’ve learned nothing.

“I realized some time ago I that needed to be a better person, and my interactions with the people I work with have changed. I appreciate the way I’ve behaved with colleagues in the past has caused a lot of pain, and I sincerely apologize for it. Though I’m trying to do better, I know I have a long way to go. That is my commitment. My journey now will be to learn about myself and conquer my demons.”

Well, this seems like progress, right?

Just wait.

“Over the last year, I’ve asked [celebrity lawyer] Lisa Bloom to tutor me, and she’s put together a team of people. I’ve brought on therapists, and I plan to take a leave of absence from my company and to deal with this issue head on.”

Lisa Bloom told the Times that Weinstein is “an old dinosaur learning new ways” and that she “explained to him that due to the power difference between a major studio head like him and most others in the industry, whatever his motives, some of his words and behaviors can be perceived as inappropriate, even intimidating.”

What’s weird about this is that I’m pretty sure Weinstein already understands the power differential at play between him and “most others in the industry,” particularly hopeful actors. One woman who temped for Weinstein said he told her that “if she accepted his sexual advances, he would boost her career.” O’Connor said that Weinstein’s targets were almost invariably “vulnerable women who hope he will get them work.” Weinstein — a six-time Oscar winner and titan in the film industry — understood with crystal clarity his own status vs. those he allegedly dangled careers in front of for varying sexual favors. Alleged sexual harassers and abusers such as Bill O’Reilly, Bill Cosby and Roger Ailes, among many others, use their power against those who have none. That’s how this whole awful thing works.

I’m pretty sure Weinstein already understands the power differential at play between him and ‘most others in the industry.’

Also, for the record, the fact that Weinstein reportedly used his fortune to pay off women and keep all those charges quiet suggests he’s well aware that his behaviors are “inappropriate, even intimidating.”

“I so respect all women, and regret what happened.”

God. That “so” is really not helping here. Someone should’ve read this thing out loud before they sent it out.

“Jay Z wrote in 4:44 ‘I’m not the man I thought I was, and I better be that man for my children.’ The same is true for me.”

Honestly, Harvey Weinstein borrowing a Jay-Z lyric about his marital infidelity to Beyoncé to describe his contrition about harassing who knows how many women over the last 30 years is just too much to get into right now. (Who is that arbitrary insertion even for? The “kidz”? Maybe in his next sorry-not-sorry letter he’ll quote Lil Yachty or something.) It is worth noting that the line isn’t an actual Jay-Z quote, just to give you a sense of the real time and heartfelt labor that went into this thing.

“I want a second chance in the community, but I know I’ve got work to do to earn it.”

What community? You mean Hollywood? Mel Gibson is on the up-and-up these days and the Golden Globes gave Woody Allen a Lifetime Achievement Award just three years ago. Fox News fired Bill O’Reilly six months ago and then welcomed him back last month like an esteemed honoree at a medal ceremony. As I’m sure you already know, “the community’” is just awaiting a sign from the echo chamber on when it’s okay to be cool with you again.

Why Should You Become An Establishment Member For $5 A Month?

“I have goals that are now priorities. Trust me, this isn’t an overnight process. I’ve been trying to do this for 10 years, and this is a wake-up call.”

Wait, so according to Harvey Weinstein, he’s been trying to “do this” — meaning “be better” we presume — for “10 years”? I would genuinely love to hear what kind of all-powerful pervy forces have been forcing Harvey Weinstein — the man whom 90 percent of Hollywood is legit afraid to piss off — to keep sexually harassing women for the last decade.

Here’s where it really gets good by which I mean off the g.d. rails.

“I am going to need a place to channel that anger, so I’ve decided that I’m going to give the NRA my full attention. I hope Wayne LaPierre will enjoy his retirement party. I’m going to do it at the same place I had my Bar Mitzvah. I’m making a movie about our President, perhaps we can make it a joint retirement party.”

On the heels of the latest mass shooting, many of us welcome any takedown of the NRA. And considering his historic unpopularity, it’s always nice to hear mention of Trump no longer having access to the nuclear codes. But the whole tone of this section verges on the bizarre, that is until you remember you are in the midst of a pissing match, midstream. “I’m going to throw you a party in the same place where I became a man, which you should consider a direct threat to your own manhood through some convoluted illogical thought stream I won’t explain.” Or something.

You are in the midst of a pissing match.

Anyway, if there are three people who seem perfect for some sort of man-off, it’s Weinstein, Trump and the head of the NRA. So there’s that.

“One year ago, I began organizing a $5 million foundation to give scholarships to women directors at USC. While this might seem coincidental, it has been in the works for a year. It will be named after my mom, and I won’t disappoint her.”

I guess that’s a good thing. Let’s just be sure every scholarship includes a clause that states, “You are in no way now, nor in the future, beholden to Harvey Weinstein.” Just be safe.

This article originally appeared on AlterNet. Republished here with permission.

]]>