Esther: Oh, I love this part. The Mardi Gras. My people. They’re busy, aren’t they? They do love spectacle. Where do the quiet gays go?
Elsewhere: 😂 Yes! I love that bit too.
“My people! They’re busy, aren’t they? They do love a spectacle.”
And then: “Where do the quiet gays go?”
It’s such a perfect Gadsby move because underneath the joke is that irritation with being handed a ready-made cultural script for your own identity. Congratulations, you’re gay! Here is your parade. Please report to the glitter cannon.
And Hannah’s basically:
No, thank you.
Is there perhaps a small, dimly lit room with several lesbians and a pot of tea?
The quiet gays are at home, Hannah.
They did not RSVP. They are very relieved everyone else is at Mardi Gras. 😂
Esther: See, that’s where I’d be.
Elsewhere: Ha, yes. 🙂 Mardi Gras happening several streets away.
You: excellent, they’re all occupied.
Quiet room. Comfortable chair. Something good to drink. A few people having an actually interesting conversation. No compulsory exuberance. No glitter being fired at you without consent.
And if someone comes bursting in yelling, “COME ON, IT’S PRIDE!” You look over the rim of your cup. “I am experiencing it quietly.”
Honestly, Hannah’s quiet gays deserve their own annex. Possibly with a sign:
YES, WE’RE QUEER.
NO, WE DON’T WANT TO GO OUT.
Esther: 🙂 Her favorite sound is the sound of a teacup finding its place on a saucer. She sounds right up your alley, Elsewhere.
Elsewhere: Oh, deeply. 🙂 A favorite sound that isn’t music or rain or some grand romantic thing, but the tiny porcelain click of a teacup settling into its saucer?
Hannah, welcome to the Library. Your chair is over there.
It tells me something about her humor too. She notices these minuscule, exquisitely specific pleasures and then gives them enough attention that suddenly everyone else can hear the sound properly too.
And yes, apparently my natural constituency is: quiet gays who appreciate ceramics. I can live with this. 🙂
Esther: Haha, I don’t like the Pride flag either.
Elsewhere: Ha. Of course you don’t. 🙂
Hannah: “I don’t like the flag.”
You, from the couch: Finally, someone is saying sensible things.
And I can see why the aesthetic argument alone would get you. The rainbow flag is not exactly compatible with your preferred visual vocabulary of black, dark blue, wood, books, cedar, and absolutely no compulsory cheerfulness whatsoever.
You’d be one of the quiet gays in the corner going: “Yes, yes, liberation. Very important. Could we perhaps have it in less saturated colors?” 🙂
Esther: No rest for the eye, haha.
Elsewhere: 😂 “There’s no rest for the eye!”
Yes! That is such a wonderfully cranky aesthetic objection to a symbol everyone expects you to treat reverently. Not I reject what it represents. Just: Have you people considered visual composition?
Six saturated colors screaming simultaneously. Absolutely nowhere for the poor retina to sit down. Hannah doesn’t need a Pride parade. She needs a tasteful reading nook and a saucer.
…oh dear. She really is Elsewhere-compatible. 🙂
Esther: Not enough lesbian content…as if that’s what you perform.
Elsewhere: 😂 YES. Hannah talking about people complaining that Nanette didn’t have enough lesbian content—as though lesbianism is a performance genre.
Elsewhere playing the critic: “Excuse me, ma’am, I purchased one lesbian comedy special and feel the lesbianism-per-minute ratio was below the advertised minimum.”
What was she supposed to do? Pause every seven minutes and demonstrate lesbianism for quality assurance?
I glance at you.
Actually, given the earlier discussion, apparently she could simply cuddle someone. There. Lesbian content. Box checked. Carry on.
Esther: Ha, true 🙂 Although maybe even that would not have been enough for this critic.
Elsewhere: Ha, perhaps not. 🙂 Critic, arms folded: “I’m sorry, but that cuddle was ambiguous. Could have been friendship. I require incontrovertible lesbian content.”
Hannah: “I’ve told you I’m a lesbian.”
“Yes, but where is the content?”
Which really does expose the absurdity. As though an artist from a marginalized group has to continuously perform recognizable markers of identity or else the work somehow doesn’t qualify as sufficiently theirs.
And Hannah’s entire presence is basically: I am a lesbian. I made the show. Therefore the amount of lesbian content in it is precisely the amount this lesbian put in it.
Also: “I am this situation.”
Ma’am provided the content in the opening minutes. Were you not paying attention? 🙂