pick me!
Written by Paige Kent
My freshman year of college I decided to do the most predictable thing a high school theater kid could do: join the University’s Improv Club. To no one's surprise, the college comedy world is full of the most unfunny men you’ll ever meet with large, fragile egos. The cutting edge comedy you’ll find in their biweekly shows are full of their favorite buzzwords“ cum”,“ piss” and“ fart”. Trust me on this, they laugh EVERY TIME one of these bad boys are played. The archaic gender standards were suffocating and ever present, but to be quite honest, I expect that. Comedy at any level, whether it’s a local open mic or playing on the national stage, is full of men. I knew just how harsh the comedy scene is to women. I was prepared.
What I did not expect was the pick-me girl who would make my life hell. Now, at first thought she was your classic high school bully stock character. She was simply too cool to hang with an ex theater kid like me. Unfortunately, as time went on her intentions became clear. The all so elusive hope to be‘ one of the guys’. The things she would do were small, but hurtful. For example, during practice she would be in a scene with two of her guy friends and they would be screaming their heads off. Talking over her, making their cum jokes, screaming, and general being bad scene partners. She, of course, would find nothing wrong with them. Then, it was turn to be in a scene, and I would most likely be put as the straight man to the others' antics. I would just stand there acting frustrated and would usually break down by the end of the scene. She never liked that. For notes, she would tell me“ you’re being way too loud” or to“ calm down.” Excuse me? I need to calm down? I am too loud? Are we on a different planet?
It was then I realized what situation I was in. I could never be friends with her or even have a civil relationship. I was the out group and the men were the in group. The pick-me’s easiest way in with the men is to show just how annoyed she is with her gender. She is not like other girls. She ridiculed me the entire time I was in the club, and men loved to compare us. Why can’t you just be more like her? That was a genuine question my troupe leader asked me. He saw her as cool, chill, and laid back to my nerdy, big, and energetic self. Why couldn’t I simply dull myself to be more palatable for them, like she did?
When I look back at my time in improv, the tears shed, the anxiety, the nausea, the feelings that I’ll never be enough because I am too much, I think about her. I hope it is worth it for her. I was not the only woman she stomped on her journey to the top. I wonder what was it all for? So that mid men will give you attention? Say you’re cool? Fuck you? She’s smart enough to know that they’ll never respect her or treat her as an equal. Maybe she still hangs onto the hope that if you snuff enough women’s light out, you will be equal to a man. Of course, that is just lie so that we keep each other down and fight amongst ourselves.
That is why sisterhood is so important. The beauty of sisterhood is something that I am grateful everyday to be a part of. I am so lucky to have a strong mother to remind me of the importance of this community, and she gave me the strength to quit improv. We are all united together in this world, and I have pride in knowing we have each other’s backs. Even the pick-me’s. I walked away from improv with a lot of hurt, but I walked away. I am not trapped in the cycle of screaming PICK ME into the crowd of cruel men. I’ll always be too-much-but-not-enough for those men, and I’ll gladly pick that.
