Improv and Taking Up Space w/ Lorna Rose Treen
“I challenged my male friends’ sexisms, slurs, and treatment of women. This whole time, I didn’t let on that I was secretly team sexist - a double-agent!”
Lorna Rose Treen is an improviser, writer and clown. She’s originally from Birmingham, but lives in London, and works as a freelance producer for BBC Radio 4.
It’s 2006, and I’m a squishy 11 year old. I’m wearing a knock-off playboy tracksuit and a pink diamante Claire’s Accessories headband. Our Lord and saviour (according to mum) Tony Blair is PM. I’m huddled around our huge 2000s TV, watching investigative journalist Tina Fey’s gritty high school documentary, Mean Girls.*
This is my 100th watch. My hodgepodge group of weird Brummy friends and I LOVE IT. We are, in fact, not human anymore, but instead a collection of misquotes about October 3rd, hair full of secrets and our (non-existent) breasts knowing the weather. Along with coca-cola, we are absolutely necking the idea that we should deeply distrust women because they are, genetically, bitches.
It’s 2010, and I’ve grown up. I’m in high school, just like every other chump! I’ve stopped watching Mean Girls so regularly. (Got to make time for snogging!) I’m a squishy 15 year old, full of hopes and dreams and internalised misogyny.
High school isn’t exactly how Tina painted it, but there are popular people and not-so popular people. The popular girls are loud and confident, and do a handful of horribly bitchy things to confirmation-bias the hell out of my learnt fears of women. This, plus other dreadful 2000s media depictions, made me believe that even nice confident girls are probably planning to stab me in the back, like Brutas did to Gretchen.
I learnt that a good 1950s woman LIKE ME ought to be quiet, for fear of being labelled a ‘bitch’. I cleverly chose to find public speaking incredibly anxiety inducing. ‘That’ll show ‘em!’ I thought, as I stockpiled stereotypes of women and crippling self-doubt. Must. Fit. Into. Society.
I grew up EVEN MORE, went to Uni and < redacted because my mum might read this >.
I was now a squishy young adult, full of hopes and dreams and self-concious gendered sadness.
I actually had a bloody ball. I made gorgeous friends, went to my philosophy classes (yes she did) and part-ayyyy’d my socks + other items off.**
It was actually around this time that I invented feminism.
I challenged my male friends’ sexisms, slurs, and treatment of women. This whole time, I didn’t let on that I was secretly team sexist - a double-agent! And that whenever I met a confident/loud woman, my skin would stand on end with distrust, like a cat and its hair.***
In my third year I plucked up the courage to go to the student improv workshops. I’d seen them advertised three years before, but always found excuses. I noticed the group this year were seemingly more inviting… more welcoming… like I was welcome… No idea why.
Completely unrelatedly, the group had, for the first time, let loads of women in.
I went along, played games, and had so much fun™. But, el classico, I was intimidated by the women. I couldn’t even really speak around them. I was constantly comparing and cringing.
Particularly, one short-ish Caroline-woman from South London was so loud and dripping with joy, talent and optimism. The worst thing about her was that she was really encouraging. She once absolutely sabotaged me by physically pushing me into a game of freeze, forcing me to play, be absolutely hilarious and get loads of laughs. Bitch.
The whole experience was very confusing. These women (bitches) were just as funny, disgusting and confident as the men, and they were also really kind. It did not compute with my Mean-Girl-math. Perhaps this might be a ‘me’ issue…
Eventually I was invited into workshops with the group.
It was short-form improv, so we focused on making big choices. I’d feel nervous initiating ideas, and had a very strong filter (beats me when I chose to acquire that!) which I found difficult to drop. (Unlike my knickers, am I right?!) I wouldn’t trust or follow my own ideas.
Instead of “yes, and” I was more like “yes, but it’s okay if not.”
I played nervous, low status characters. However, I was an excellent listener and - fine, I’ll say it - really funny.
Being the founder of feminism, I also had loads of fun mocking sexism and making jokes to punch up into the patriarchy’s dick. Whilst, all the time ironically holding myself back with fear of becoming a loud and confident woman.
It was coming up to the point in the process where you either got asked to leave the group, or you got in the show. The group was the cash cow for the student venue during the Edinburgh Fringe, so it was a big deal.
We did a mock-show. I needed to be confident, but the maths was clear; confidence = bitch. I looked at the others in the group and was fed up. They didn’t doubt themselves into smallness. I was called for a scene, and, panicking, I imitated one of Caroline’s characters, which looked very different with my spindly body and nasal timbre. I found myself playing a high status dog cop.** Every time I’d come on stage I did a Caroline character. I imitated her stupid Danny DeVito voice, her weird stompy penguin march, I even sang a bit from a musical, as was her want. And I got into the frickin’ show!
Being told I was good enough to be in this incredible group was affirming and gave me permission to feel confident - and become the bitch that I am today!
Through playing together weekly, we learnt excellent communication skills disguised as comedy tools, and started to work out who we wanted to be in the world. I re-learnt that listening was only half of the battle. Talking and giving and taking up space is generous and helpful. I re-framed confidence as kindness.
I still found games where you had to monologue, like Panel Show, difficult, because I was fighting myself for permission to take up space. But gender became something to perform and subvert, rather than be controlled by.
Led by directors Jodie and Jon, we dissected our improv and ditched sexist tropes, allowing us to be more free and more equal performers. From simple things like stellar subversions of drunk fringe-audience suggestions, to more philosophical things, like not pimping genders, using neutral language, and avoiding too many dick jokes. (Or, at least, balancing them out with some vag stuff.) It made us all better feminists.
I learnt to love women (a little bit TOO much if you know what I mean!*) Reader, I married Caroline! Jokes, but she’s a v good friend and if you are reading this Caroline - this is not flirting.
Women being loud was MY problem, not theirs. It was me, projecting badly learnt lessons from watching #TooMuchMeanGirls. Someone taking up space does not compromise your space. (Except you, men. Please share your space.)
I performed with that group for three years, and most of us still create together now. We work in the industry, and are undoubtedly changed by our improv experiences. Fundamentally, it’s your duty as a performer to know if you’re giving too much, or in my case, too little.
A clown teacher once said to me - and please imagine I’m holding a plastic tiara and snapping it into loads of pieces whilst you read this - “The thing you’re most scared of in yourself is probably your biggest gift to others.” **
- Mean Girls is an intensely problematic film. A great article on this: https://www.keshiasih.com/blog/i-cant-believe-it-took-me-this-long-to-realize-my-favorite-movie-is-racist
•• Redacted if my mum reads this.
••• What an absolutely horrific image.
•••• Wow Uni improv is lame.
••••• I am bisexual.
•••••• I’m so sorry if you liked me up until you found out I went to clown school, and are now re-evaluating.
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