It’s Five O’Clock Somewhere, But It’s Time for Women Everywhere
I can’t stop thinking about Maureen Dowd’s New York Times piece “The Women of Hollywood Speak Out.” I’m proud to know several of the women featured in her article and to have shared a journey alongside them — a journey, not a leap, as Dowd points out:
…for those are almost exclusively reserved for young guys in baseball caps who remind older guys in baseball caps of themselves.
I’ve been in the TV and film business for over 20 years and have worked my way up the ranks. My journey began as a production assistant. On one of my first jobs, I had a male boss who was drunk by 10:00 am with his stash of “two-buck chuck” wine hidden under his desk and who would regularly comment on what I was wearing.
It wasn’t uncommon for me to hear things like, “Those boots are nice, but they’d be a lot nicer next to my ears.” He would often come out of his office to scream obscenities, which, to be fair, were not all aimed at women. The good news: you earned a badge of “something” if you could survive a show with him. I survived two. After the second one, I threw away my badge and went to work with women in comedy.
In the early stages of my career I was lucky to work with many great women (and great men) in comedy who provided me with the support and mentorship I needed to grow simultaneously a career behind the lens and a set of “lady balls” large enough to shut down any sexual comments about my attire.
Thankfully, a lot has changed since my career began. We no longer use pagers or fax machines and I’m now an executive producer and director, but sadly, we still have a long way to go.
I’m currently on a new show where the ladies outnumber the men (crazy, right?), but that has never been my norm. It hasn’t been uncommon for me to sit at a lunch table with 15 guys or to be one of three women on a bus filled with 35 male crew members scouting for locations. I’m happy to report that most of the guys have been nothing but supportive and sad to report that this hasn’t always been the case with the ladies, as I’ve had more support from men than women.
Maureen Dowd hit the nail on the head when she asked, “Why are women at the top not helping other women?” Dowd explains:
“These are women [female film executives] who care about the problem, but self-preservation comes first, so they feel they can do little except to ‘keep chipping away,’” or in other words, that women who get to the top are afraid.
To further Dowd’s point, I think that instead of FOMO (fear of missing out) these women suffer from FOLO (fear of losing out) — that somehow if they help other women they will be dethroned.
I’ve had women bosses lie to me, pay me less so they could take half of it for themselves, and even steal lipstick out of my bag. Seems as though sometimes “sisters are doing it for themselves” and not for each other.
Mean girls aside, there are a thousand other nuances that have made it harder for women to rise with the ranks of Hollywood. As a producer, I’m confident and competent with a track record to prove I can bring in a show on time and on budget — and win awards. As a director, I still have miles to go, but I’m learning from some of the greats.
I’m thankful and grateful (even though I’ve been told women aren’t supposed to say that anymore) for the support I received when I started to transition into directing, but that’s when I noticed “it” more. I had to talk a little louder simply because people were trying to have conversations without me, and people were talking over me. It seemed my producer voice needed an overhaul. Why did I have to talk louder to be heard? “It” felt like a “woman” thing. I didn’t want to talk louder to be heard, but I did, and often went home with a headache from hearing myself speak so loudly and was sure I sounded like a character from The Peanuts.
Talking louder often means insecurity, not authority. People might hear you because you’re so damn loud, but they don’t listen. Kind of like Helen Lewis’ recent piece in The Guardian, you become the dying cat on the table.
Helen Lewis was referring to social media and activism when she used this analogy, but I think the same can be applied to this “Year of the Woman” movement.
Have women all become the dying cat on the table?
The answer, of course, is, no, not yet. But we need to stop talking about the issues and start acting on them. Our sisters from the Suffrage Movement, “sisters who did it for themselves” as well as for others — generations of sisters — would be ashamed that years later, even with 50% of the population being women, we still have to fight to be equal.
WTF? Seriously, WTF people? I’m angry. I’m ranting. I’m sorry, not sorry.
So the first question I have is: Do you want to support women in comedy? Women in tech? Women in finance? Women who are CEO’s of their homes? Women in general? If your answer is yes, then thank you. Now prove it. Don’t just say it, prove it.
If your answer is no (and I hope no one answers no), I just have to ask why not? What are you afraid of? WHAT IS EVERYONE AFRAID OF? That the world will be taken over by giant vaginas? Come on, we all know things like that don’t happen — even in the movies.
I know what I’m afraid of: I’m afraid there’s a lot of talk but very little action.
I’m afraid we’re talking so loudly that no one is listening, and our movement is becoming the dying cat.
I can see people rolling their eyes and thinking, “There’s that sound again. What are those women talking on about? Equal rights? Don’t they have them already?” People are already sick of posters that say “It’s five o’clock somewhere, but it’s time for women everywhere” and they haven’t even been printed yet.
So how do we prove it, you ask?
I don’t know, but I believe we can find that answer together. WE are stronger together and by WE I mean everyone — men included. We are in danger of pushing men too far away by believing “we have to do it all to have it all.” Maybe we can “do it all” but I don’t want to — I’m tired. Men struggle with their own version of “having it all” too and I think we can all agree that “having it all” is a phrase crying out for an update.
My “all” is no stranger to disappointments and missed school events. Last year I didn’t even know where my youngest son’s classroom was until the day of parent-teacher conferences. I’m riddled with guilt, and I overcompensate by buying too many toys and being too easygoing. I’m also an emotional eater who makes my assistant tell everyone that the third cookie is for her, not me…but I’ll save those details for another time.
Being a single parent with three kids, (two boys and a girl) is hard. Life is hard. I’m trying to raise my sons to be strong men that support women and my daughter to be a strong woman that supports men. But the reality is that I’m afraid my daughter will grow up to work just as hard as a man but be paid 21% less.
I don’t want to see her face filled with disappointment when she realizes this. Then again, my daughter is a force of nature, so (hopefully) she wouldn’t accept this. Sometimes her strong will creates friction at home, but mostly it creates magic.
Magic happened six years ago when she was four. One day, she told me she couldn’t leave the house until she “put her pretty on.” Slightly freaked out, and not sure where she got that from, I watched as she put her Chapstick on. I realized in that moment that it would be my job to help define “pretty” to my daughter.
“Pretty” — A word inundated with cultural and societal pressures; a word that we all want to be called but not defined by; a word that to my four-year-old meant Chapstick.
She’s now ten years old and “Put Your Pretty On” (PYPO) has become our mantra for how we live our lives, how we give back to the world, our game faces and, yes, our Chapstick. PYPO represents “pretty” from the inside out and validation.
I want to support women — all women — and here’s how I’m proving it:
I’m creating a platform (no dying cats allowed) for women, by women (with some support from our male friends). PYPO will be a fun, frank and disruptive platform where we take control of the conversation. We’re taking back lady, bitch, girl, milf, sweetie, honey and more, only to redefine them. We’ll update “having it all” and show the world how we “put our pretty on.” We have to help each other.
Madeleine Albright said it best:
“There’s a place in Hell reserved for women who don’t help other women.”
If we don’t pay it forward then who will? We can’t expect the men to do all the heavy lifting. You can start now with your purse. I’m sure it weighs at least five pounds and it’s perfect for arm curls.
And yes, I am afraid. There’s a lot of support for PYPO but there has also been those who “don’t get it,” those who ask if I am “out of my depth,” and so on. But, this is the good kind of fear, the one that tells you when great things are happening, the kind where you step off the edge and find your footing. This isn’t the movies (giant vaginas still haven’t taken over the world yet). But if it was, it would be the sequel to Thelma and Louise…where they survived…surprise!
I’ll find my PYPO voice, one that is different from my producer and my director voice, but not too loud. I will talk softly and begin, as best as I can, to clear a path for those who come to walk beside me.
I know real change takes time and requires many voices. It’s time for everyone to join the conversation and PYPEin. Rumor has it there’s a massage parlor in NYC that offers women labia massages, the female version of a “happy ending.” Perhaps change is starting to come after all…
Stephanie Laing is a two-time Emmy winning producer. She was an Executive Producer and Director for the HBO series, “Veep,” and currently is the Executive Producer of the new series “Vice Principals” and Co-Executive Producer of “Divorce.”
