Tough Rooms

I’ve faced my share of tough rooms in my time— audiences who saw no value in what I was offering, be it a Sunday School lesson, or a performance in a play. While I do understand that my appeal is far from universal, it still stings to be rejected. I suffer with anyone who bombs in front of a group of people. Singers who forget the lyrics, nervous speakers whose notes flutter to the ground out of order: you’ve got a friend in me.

In the pantheon of verbal high-wire walkers, standup comedians are in a class by themselves. Odds are, a decent percentage of their audiences (sometimes 100%) will NOT find their comedy—well, comic. Yet they need to soldier on through their set, night after night, in place after place, hoping and praying for the Big Break.

Some of the best standup acts are delivered by the most vulnerable people, who bare their souls in rooms full of total strangers, in hopes of sharing the humor and pathos of the human experience with others in a theatre or club. Steve and I saw a show Sunday night featuring the comedian Maria Bamford. Bamford has been around for quite a few years, but only recently has achieved fame with her Netflix specials, and her edgy, semi-autobiographical series Lady Dynamite. Maria is close to my heart for several reasons: she is a woman in a predominantly man’s field, she is a bit older (46), and she lives with bipolar disorder, as I do.

We were delighted to be in a big room full of her true fans. Maria’s routine sounds almost stream-of-consciousness—you are carried along in her word cloud, enjoying the free-wheeling ride. She manages to make even her stint in a psych ward sound funny, and her vocal impersonations are hilarious. Some of her remarks suggest that, though she is much better now, she battles her demons still (and I recognize that battle). The evening concluded with a well-deserved ovation, and I hope she slept well that night.

Where are YOUR tough rooms? Where in your life do you expose your true self to the scrutiny of others, and then worry what they will think? In a perfect world, there would be no tough rooms, only places of acceptance and affirmation—but, last time I checked, the world was pretty far from perfect.

So, as Maria Bamford courageously continues to share herself in many rooms, in many cities, I applaud her. I challenge myself to stay open, to keep reaching out to my fellow humans, whatever the consequences. And, as I face my next tough room, be it Confirmation class or an audience for a book reading, may I stand in solidarity with those who try and bridge the gaps that needlessly separate us all. We have it in our power to do away with ALL the tough rooms, and provide each other with a safe space for sharing, for laughter, for connection.

What are we waiting for?