The One With The Lawsuit
No one told you life was going to be this way.
When “Friends” was in its first few seasons, it basically took over the American culture. Women, myself included, asked their hair stylists for the “Monica” or the “Rachel”. People referred to themselves as the “Chandler” or the “Joey” of their personal friends group — no one wanted to be a “Ross”. I was told I was a “Phoebe”— but truth be told, I’m more of a “Monica” — I was just grateful that no one could see it. On Thursday nights, my roommates and I would do face masks and give each other manicures while watching Must See TV.
Even though the show first aired about 25 years ago, it’s still referenced today. I can say “we were on a break” and people chuckle (probably politely).
Or… pound my wrists together and people will know I’m referencing Ross’ sign for “fuck you”.
Hell, a little while ago, a friend told me how he was trying to get his mattress out of his apartment, and how out of frustration in navigating the large item down his small staircase, he yelled, “PIVOT”.
And then there’s the episode where Rachel calls Ross, drunk, while she’s on a terrible date, and leaves him a message: she’s over him. The next morning, he pops by and she’s super hungover and has forgotten last night. He, inexplicably chooses to check his messages now and hears her message.
Ross says, after hearing the message, “Over me? When were you under me?” I used to quote that all the time — I just thought it was so fucking clever.
Huh. I guess my memories of this show are Ross. Somewhere out there are a bajillion articles on how surprised the world was that David Schwimmer became a sex symbol… but that’s another article for another day.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that “Friends”, for the twenty-somethings of the time, still holds a place in our hearts — for the most part. At least, that was my thinking, over the Christmas break, when I saw that “Friends” was on Netflix and I decided to binge some episodes, pretty quickly, I realized I was going to be writing this, so: 10 seasons of a trainwreck later...
It all started innocently enough, some Rosé, some take out, some PJs and my six old buddies. And then I started noticing the lack of diversity in the show. Sure, at one point, Ross was dating Julie, a Chinese-American, who was a secondary character, purely there to keep Ross and Rachel apart, while we feel bad for her, this makes her not particularly likable and maybe not the best representative of the only Asian-American with a speaking role on the show…
SIDEBAR: Now, I have a long-standing obsession with watching extras in any show or movie. Partially because I came out to Los Angeles to fulfill my dreams (see my bio), and I presume that these people did, too. So I look at these extras as getting their toe in the door of a very, very hard business to get into — and I’m excited for them. So, there’s a little bit of “yay you!” in my obsession, and a lot of: “Okay, what are you doing with this opportunity?” Are they watching the main cast when they’re not supposed to be? Are they understanding the circumstances they’re in and acting appropriately? I remember watching a medical show years ago, and EMT #2 really nailed her concern for the patient — I tried to look up her name but couldn’t find it. This kind of opportunity seizing is what I expect in an extra or bit character. Obviously, I expect a lot out of extras for no real reason at all.
ANYWAY.
I was watching the patrons of Central Perk when I started to notice how incredibly white this coffee shop in “New York City” (arguably an incredibly diverse city) was.
This whiteness extended to all the people the six friends dated, with the exception of the aforementioned Julie, and then Gabrielle Union, who guest-starred very late in the seventh season. And then both Ross and Joey dated Aisha Tyler in the ninth and tenth seasons. To my recollection there were only these three people of color as love interests. But… out of how many people and seasons? I’m no mathematician, but this seems like an aggressively white equation.
Okay, okay. It was a different time. I mean, it was 25 years ago when it first aired. And 15 years ago when it was canceled. Like, that’s not actually that long ago. And sure, there was the occasional boss of color. But more likely there was the menial worker of color. And television hasn’t totally evolved from that, if we’re being honest. And, note, I’m just talking about “‘Friends’ So White” issue here. Thing is, this show is also incredibly homophobic, regularly transphobic, misogynistic… it’s got fat-shaming, sex-worker-shaming and slut-shaming… I mean, it’s everything you’d want in a sitcom geared toward those who are concerned with Hilary Clinton’s emails — for a sitcom that, ostensibly, wasn’t geared toward those concerned with HRC’s emails. And…millions and millions of now-woke people LOVED IT — myself included. And that’s a problem. In fact, since “Friends” has been streaming on Netflix, the internet is rife with (understandable) articles about how problematic it was and is. And how frustrated underrepresented and misrepresented people are that white cis-people didn’t see past their privilege and recognize what was happening before their very eyes.
I have some serious atoning to do for all the times I was ignorant, despite feeling woke as fuck. I didn’t hear the dog-whistles. I am trying to be better, trying to evolve and most importantly, trying to recognize where I have, and am, falling short of being a good human. But again, that is another article for another time.
ANYWAY.
It’s probably unsurprising that some of the shit we were seeing onscreen was also happening behind closed doors…
In 1999, a young, Black woman from Minnesota, Amaani Lyle landed a coveted job as a writers’ assistant on the show. This is the kind of job people in this town dream of. It’s low-level, like an extra or getting cast in a bit part — but it’s that toe in the door. And it’s what you do with that opportunity that can launch your career.
Her job was to sit in the room and compile all the hilarious jokes that were happening in the writers’ room into a document that could be referred to by the writers later to help them write the scripts— as well as other tasks. But that particular task is important, because four months later, she was fired because she couldn’t type fast enough. One could think that she didn’t make enough of her opportunity. Except, that was just the “official” reasoning for her firing. The reality is, shortly after her dismissal, Lyle sued Warner Bros.
She had experienced sexual harassment and racial harassment in that room.
At the time of the lawsuit, I was part of an online writers messageboard. A huge debate ensued. The loudest voices screamed that the writers’ room is sacred and anything goes inside its walls — and anyone who doesn’t like it should leave (or be forced out as in Lyle’s case). This is the way that some men in Hollywood think. Then, before and to this day. That in order to create, they must be unencumbered by silly concepts like general decency toward other humans.
I don’t know Lyle, I don’t know what kind of typist she is, it’s entirely possible she sucked at ensuring all “jokes” were documented (she was told not to document some of them — which sorta begs the question: why were they vocalized, but we’re getting to that). It’s definitely possible that if I were in that specific room, I’d also probably be terrible at documenting those “jokes” and I type fast as fuck. Lyle lost the case and was ordered to pay hundreds of thousands of dollars for lawyers’ fees for the defendants (that’s not a thing that normally happens): Adam Chase, Gregory Malins and Andrew Reich. She appealed and lost again — but at least, this time, she wasn’t ordered to pay their lawyers’ fees.
The defendants claimed that their creative process would be severely hindered if they had to pull punches in the room. That their show was an adult show, with adult content, and therefore must be allowed to discuss adult themes in the room. And the courts agreed with them. When looking at it like that, I definitely agree with them. Except, in this specific case, pulling punches would mean:
1. Not talking about wanting to have anal sex with Jennifer Aniston.
2. Not talking about how Courtney Cox had a dried up vagina.
2a. Not talking about the probability of twigs in Courtney Cox’s vagina.
3. Not talking about Courtney Cox being broken in half if she had sex with her husband.
3a. Not wondering if Courtney Cox would break if she got pregnant.
4. Not emulating masturbation.
5. Not talking about what kinds of “tits” or “asses” the three men preferred.
6. Not describing the blow jobs they’d gotten.
7. Not drawing lewd pictures FOR HOURS.
8. Not talking about worrying about a girl vomiting when recanting a tale of getting a blow job.
9. Not bringing in a lewd adult coloring book to work.
9a. Not coloring in said coloring book in the room.
10. Not referring to women as “cunts” — especially the female co-creator. (They managed to successfully not refer to her or women as “cunts” when she was around.)
11. Not speculating about David Schwimmer’s sexuality.
12. Not making up stories about rape and stalking.
13. Not talking about adding a serial rapist to the show to rape the women on the show.
14. Not goofing off (racist and misogynistic remarks) where the other writers would have to wait until they were finished to get back to work.
15. Not talking about fetishing young blondes dressed as cheerleaders (though, this is the only instance where it may directly relate to an episode — but given the above, it makes the relation really fucking creepy — and honestly, I think any writer worth her or his salt could get to Rachel in a cheerleading costume without sexual harassing a writers’ assistant).
Jennifer Aniston looks real fucking cheer-y, doesn’t she?
There is simply no credible correlation to the things these men said in the writers’ room and the impact on the show, unless, of course, the correlation is how fucking problematic this show was. Which would mean that perhaps if they did have to pull punches, did have to learn to be inclusive and tolerant, their show might have reflected that. Instead, white males in power, wearing black robes, and wielding a gavel, ruled that the writers’ room should be sacrosanct — and the show, it turns out, was garbage.
I’ve worked in this business for a minute. And when I started out — “Friends” was still on the air. I prided myself with the ability to work alongside men in the way that men have historically dictated. I could talk about banging, I could hear about women choking on cocks, I’d watched porn. Men would test me and I would pass.
Yay.
What a fucked up point of pride that was.
This was around the time Lyle’s case came out. Now, as problematic as I was, I believed her. 100%. And it was in the online debates on the messageboard where I started to see how problematic I was. Because I believed that she shouldn’t have sued, I believed she shouldn’t have even spoken up, because: I worried that she would never be hired again, that she would be labeled “That Kind Of Woman”. Other people, men shaped people in pale-ish hues, were adamant that “bitch” was out to ruin these men’s lives and she was fired square and fair and was just trying to make a buck.
A quick perusal of IMDB (which isn’t particularly accurate when it comes to credits), shows that she hasn’t worked much in television since around 2002, and “Friends” isn’t listed as one of her credits — then again, despite other writers’ assistants being credited, she cited in her complaint against Warner Bros. that she, a WOC, wasn’t being credited. Surprising to no one at all: Adam Chase, Gregory Malins and Andrew Reich have all been working steadily since the suit.
It turns out: I was wrong. Lyle should absolutely have sued, reported, done whatever the fuck she needed to do to look out for herself, and others, and to do what she could to stop the toxic masculinity dressed up as free speech in the writers’ room. Lyle stood up for herself. In a way, back then, that I couldn’t have. In a way that has affected me, however. And when it was my turn to become a #MeToo, I was empowered to speak up. In part because of her bravery.
Again, I don’t know Amaani Lyle. I know that I believe her. I did then and I do now. It’s easy to believe women. And during this era of #MeToo and #TimesUp, I’ve been thinking about her a lot and hope she’s doing a lot of self-care these days.
The fact was, if even I — arguably an incredibly left-leaning citizen of earth — but, a white-appearing WOC, didn’t see the problematic nature of the show 25–15 years ago, then perhaps I could simply chalk it up to the mindset of the era in which it aired. Or, you know, I could do that… if it wasn’t still fucking happening:
There’s a guy who’s been investigated multiple times, Brad Kern — but, he’s a proven money maker for the studios, so nothing really ever comes of it. Many women who’ve worked in the room with him have officially complained about him. I wrote about him here. Later, I wrote about the outspoken and brave and very problematic woman who, to this day, remains inexplicably silent about him here. He’s still fucking employed — although he’s stepped into a “lesser role”, he’s still making the same amount of money on the show. And? Now there’s a new investigation.
I’ve had friends leave his shows, which resulted in them losing a lot of money, left them worried about roofs over their heads, because these men and women weren’t believed about what a garbage human he is. And we’re talking about a man who’s predominantly worked on problematic shows that aren’t particularly diverse and don’t serve to uplift and represent underrepresented communities. And if what we’re learning from shows like “Friends” is that there is a direct correlation between a toxic writers’ room and the show being white, cis, misogynistic and underrepresenting or misrepresenting minorities — because that correlation hasn’t been discussed in the #MeToo and #TimesUp movements, but should be — then we have to work even harder to empower the lower-level writers and assistants on these shows to have a voice, to feel safe — to BE That Kind Of Woman or Man or Whatever You Identify As — and to hire them if they are forced to leave a show because they’d prefer not to hear their higher ups talk about anally raping cast members.
And if that makes the white, male, old-guard showrunners nervous and/or pissed off? Well…
