Funny & Gay?! The Queer Powerhouses of the Wellington Comedy Scene

Words by Phoebe Robertson (she/her)

CW: Homophobia, Transphobia.

As the annual New Zealand International Comedy Festival draws to a close, I wanted to dive in head first to the Wellington queer comedian scene to see how queer individuals are taking over the city. As a queer person, it is only recently that I’ve started seeing comedians that I can relate to onstage and in the public sphere. However, as I found out, the scene is still rife with homophobia and transphobia. I am captivated by the acts they practised to turn comedy from something that used to showcase few queer identities into something that reclaims them.

Let’s start with the fundamentals: open mic nights. Open mics are an opportunity for comics to perform for free without needing to be booked by any venues. Wellington comedian Jules Daniels (@julesdamniels) tells me these events can be “intimidating”, as the scene is very male dominated. “At open mic nights [...] there’s a lot of grace that’s given for terrible, bad jokes. [...] You get a lot of new people trying out stuff and just missing the mark where it’s kind of homophobic or racist or transphobic,” they said.

Jules said this is especially prevalent when straight comedians come to Ivy Bar open mic nights. These comedians usually feel the need to comment on the fact they are performing in a gay bar, which often leads to jokes that are homophobic or misogynistic. Even in front of an Ivy audience, straight performers still feel they have the right to perform these jokes. This highlights a deep injustice that queer performers face—not even a venue that is designed to be a queer space is exempt from homophobic jokes.

Targeting gay people has become less acceptable for comedians, but that doesn't mean it has stopped completely.

Cishet, conservative comedians have moved onto the next scapegoat: replacing their homophobia with transphobia.

An example of this is in Dave Chappelle's Netflix special The Closer. One of Chappelle’s punchlines involves misgendering a trans comedian. He has also explicitly called himself a TERF (trans exclusionary radical feminist). Additionally, queer sex is still mocked on a recurring basis in the comedy world.

In Ricky Gervais’ Netflix special Supernatural, he makes transphobic jokes about trans women's genitalia. Wellington comedian Jak Darling (@jak.darling) also mentioned the persistent presence of homophobia and transphobia in comedy. He has felt uncomfortable in backstage green rooms when they are filled with heterosexual men and this type of rhetoric, like hearing cis men joking about events like ‘prostate exams’ in a homophobic manner.

Jak says that making a punchline from a marginalised group was “low hanging fruit”, and noted his distaste at these jokes saying “should have moved past”. But Jak wanted to make clear these are isolated incidents because of fellow Wellington comedians, like Neil Thorndon and Creative Kate, who have been welcoming and accepting of him as a queer comedian.

Neil Thornton (@neildbear) has been doing stand up for over 13 years and is the founder of the New Zealand Comedy School. Neil publicly aired out his frustration and disappointment at the prevalence of homophobia and transphobia in comedy on his Facebook page in March. He described another comedian doing “a two- minute homophobic bit about how funny it was that the Spartans ‘all s**cked and f**ked each other’” at an event that he was MCing. Neil found it "exhausting" to jeopradise his own act and call the performer out.

Neil's fear the fear that comes from calling out other performers is that he is “risking real
violence from [the homophobic performer] and their mates.” This event comes in the wake of another incident. “13 years in comedy later, and I still have to listen to young, straight comics do the same shitty, gross homophobic jokes I’ve been hearing since the 1980s.”

Neil’s experiences reinforce that there is still a prejudice against queer individuals in the comedy scene. This exists despite the wider acceptance of LGBTQIA+ individuals in society. Likewise, Jules often finds themself in situations where they have to “educate people about transness” inside and outside of the comedy sphere.

Comedians such as Mx. Well (@mxwellnz) not only educate people inside of the scene, but they use their comedy as a way of reclaiming and reaffirming their queer identity. They’re also a queer activist: They write anti-facism songs into their comedy gigs, create online infographics on their social media sites, and even have a song called ‘Stop Trans Genocide’.

In an interview, Mx. Well explained that, for them, the intersection between comedy and activism is “wanting to be able to be true to who [they are]”. They “wanted to bring something that was real on stage and wasn't just [their] jokey jokes.” They focus on what they view as “important” when crafting a routine to take to the stage, and right now that’s the “the push back against facism” and “recognising the harm that’s been done to all sort of communities”. They weave political commentary into their jokes and stage presence in order to make something impactful, and to reclaim their own narrative.

For Katie Hill from theatre company Big Estrogen Energy, it’s not about going out on stage with the “intention to educate [her audience]. [...] It’s more about celebrating [her] own queer joy and chaos that comes with discovering [her] sexuality late in life.” She credits sharing significant queer stories as the “best form of representation”. This was highlighted in her show Horny and Confused which debuted in 2020 and was successful enough to gain a second season, Horny and Confused Two, in 2021. Ultimately, Katie aims to “entertain”, and won’t do that at the expense of herself.

For Jules, making comedy is “first and foremost [about] trying to make people laugh.” They also ensure it’s an act of “tangible good” that they can put into the world. Like Mx. Well, they note that comedy “is such a good bridge to get across some more important points. Like a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.” Jules explains that they use their comedy to share more about their identity to audiences that may not have met many people like them before.

“I’m trying to talk about myself and my experiences being trans, and queer, and non-binary, and disabled, and Jewish [...] and just even approaching being trans can be controversial at the moment, so to be able to do it in a way that shows that I’m a person.” This is something Jules finds powerful and an act of reclamation of their own identity, while still being able to make people laugh, explaining that “laughter is healing”.

The ultimate take away I get from these interviews is the queer joy and acceptance that comedy can bring, despite homophobia and transphobia still existing in the scene. These comedians are reclaiming their own narrative of what it means to be queer and a comic. There is a pathway being carved out for queer artists. It’s now more accessible than ever to pick up comedy and find yourself in a welcoming, accepting community that you know will have your back.