What Would Beyoncé Do?! Read online

  I mean we all start as a girl in the womb. You would think as the bearers of life women would run things. It’s the most powerful aspect of our being, the ability to procreate. But men have taken this function, the body form of breasts and a vagina, and instead of worshipping it they use it to control us. I wonder if that’s one of the main reasons why women have been deliberately subverted rather than celebrated as equals: fear. And here, in the middle of America, is this man standing on a stage who has used and abused that pleasure and privilege and is now calling out for young girls to protect themselves and not become ‘whores’.

  A lot of men are oblivious to their own privilege. There is an arrogance in many of the men I meet, be it talking over women in meetings, dismissing their ideas, catcalling, feeling owed on nights out for sexual favours because they paid. Even on a basic level, having conversations with dudes who have no social skills or ability to read a situation, but just see their own reality. I have always thought women are so emotionally intelligent and evolved. We have had to work harder emotionally and are streets ahead, and yet show patience and love to the male psyche.

  Women are seen as secondary. One in four women in the UK will experience sexual assault. One in four. That statistic is terrifying.

  I love men, I respect men, I am not anti-men, but why am I being taught that my value, opinion and body are worth less than those of a man? Can I breastfeed in public? I don’t know, it’s up to the guys, they make the laws. I believe a lot of men struggle with the current notion of masculinity. I see emotionally weak men all the time. The men I have met who call women desperate are the same ones who are never out of a relationship for longer than a few weeks. They have all the bravado of being a player and yet have a poor girl at home waiting for them. Men who are married for 25 years become widowed and are in a new relationship a week later.

  A woman’s whole journey in this life is about self-improvement, whether that be physical, emotional or spiritual. Where is society’s call for male self-improvement? For a man to stand on his own two feet and know himself, really know himself. His feelings, his fears, his sexual beliefs. His values, his worth, his truth.

  The religious men who scorn scantily clad women are some of the weakest members of society. Learn about your own sexual repression and educate yourself to not touch what is not yours. Do not teach women shame, teach men control. I believe some men have got lazy. Some are just so emotionally lazy because women, mothers, have made excuses for their crap behaviour. Men have been praised and celebrated throughout history; we have museums filled with their creations. And now the current man, who is creating nothing, has an ego so fragile all he can do is, I don’t know, become a comedy critic.

  Obviously I couldn’t discuss this with Kalinda, a virgin herself but I wanted to hear her opinions; after all, some of my sexual experiences weren’t great, so if her way saved her from pain, go for it. She just wanted to fall in love, get married and then have sex. The pressure of that though: what if the sex is awful? Could you imagine, your wedding night and you get down to business and are completely incompatible. I have knobbed guys where the conversation is on point and sparks were flying but then you try and fuck and it’s such an anticlimax. I didn’t want to upset Kalinda so I respected her church and her feelings, but that’s not what I want for my child.

  Overall though it was a wonderful Thanksgiving, as sad as I was about not being with Klaus. Even after ‘I wish I was in love’-gate I continued to talk to him, even though it often left me feeling drained and frustrated because I knew he didn’t really want to be with me. Who was I to give Kalinda advice on sex and virginity if the relationship I was in was leaving me feeling empty and used? But old habits die hard, plus it would be nice to see him when he picked me up from the airport.

  Career-wise, though, I ended up having the time of my life in Chicago. I grew so much and gained so much confidence in my comic abilities. I had learnt about Americans and their self-belief, and I loved that. I had always felt in the UK that when I said I aspired to be a comedy performer, I would get shot down. Whereas in the States, the attitude was ‘Why of course you can, and you will.’ I loved that.

  I had learnt to embrace my natural inner clown, how to use all of my being on stage and not just my voice. I learnt rules in comedy that were definitive in my growth as a comedian. I learnt to commit, if you are going to do something on stage commit to it. If it feels awkward, make it even more awkward until it is so awkward that you start revelling in how awkward it is.

  I started using this improv training in my stand-up, committing more to my voice and my ideas. I also found it incredible as it helped me whenever I was doing badly on stage. If an audience hated me and I was dying on stage, say it had gone past the moment of rescue and I had tried and failed to salvage it. Then I could use these techniques. You see, I am not at the level where I have been going long enough to have a repertoire of jokes that I could pull out. You will see it with comics who have been going for twenty years, they can come out, read a room and go ‘Bam, this is the stuff you’ll like.’ I’ve not got that. There is no point in me changing halfway through my set. ‘Oh, you don’t like relationship jokes? OK, here are my quips on office life.’ So instead I started using my improv skills.

  For example, if you are dying on stage, and the audience hate you, don’t get embarrassed and pray for the ground to swallow you up, instead die harder, keep doing what you are doing that makes them hate you. That’s all you can control. I know this isn’t the best advice for everyone, but it works for me.

  Because there is truth in dying on stage, and the best funny always comes from truth. Now I still very much have just horrible ground-swallowing experiences, but when I can, if I can, when I am dying on stage I like to try and own it. I sign off by saying my name really slowly and then spelling it out: ‘Thanks for watching guys, my name is Luisa Omielan. That’s L.U.I.S.A. O.M.I.E.L.A.N. Please come and give me your feedback on Twitter, that’s @Luisaomielan. I really look forward to hearing from you. No please, don’t clap, why make it any less awkward now? We may as well continue as we started! I think I would prefer it if I just slowly left the stage to no applause, it’s the least I deserve,’ and then I will mock high-five them and slowly and purposefully awkwardly leave the stage. There is comfort in doing it like that; people hate it, but fuck ’em. Chicago taught me that.

  I had completed all the training and it got to my last week. I knew I was going to miss Chicago. I felt I had changed and grown as a person out there. I’d gained confidence in my talents and was clearer about vocalising my dream to work in comedy.

  Then three days before I was due to fly home, I got an email from Klaus: I’m really sorry Luisa, I can’t do this, I’m sorry.

  Motherfucker. The week I am flying home, the wimp bails. No meeting me at the airport, no kissing me and swinging me round at arrivals. It felt like another punch in the gut. Why had I not trusted my instincts on this one? Why had I let him back into my life?

  I flew back to the UK and my mum met me at the airport instead. And we had our Love Actually moment, and she was really pleased to see me, and I her, and even though part of me kept thinking it should have been Klaus meeting me, I was so happy and relieved it was my mother, because she came with the best form of love. Pure and unconditional.

  13.

  RUN THE WORLD

  After having my mind blown in Chicago and wanting to embark on a career in comedy more furiously than ever, the last thing I wanted to do was to go back to temping. My radio job had taught me so much but I needed to be more focused and vocal with what I wanted. I had seen what I was capable of and now wanted to make it my lifestyle, full-time.

  So I came up with a game plan. I decided to stay living at my mum’s for now and commute to London. It would only take an hour on the train, not that long really. I could go back to working as a receptionist if I wanted, I was lucky as my mum wouldn’t charge me rent. Some people called it spoilt, I called it loved actually. I mean
sure, I am 27, trying to avoid a temp job. I am the same age as Beyoncé. Look where Beyoncé is, she is selling out arenas and I’ve got a teaching qualification and several books of notes from Chicago. What would Beyoncé do in this situation? So I thought what if I utilised the two. I could run a workshop and show people some of the exercises I learnt. I am by no means an expert and wouldn’t advertise myself as one, just as a facilitator.

  I didn’t know if anyone would want to learn from me, but I’m good at giving presentations and making things fun, I knew I could create a safe environment for people to practice and play.

  I have always been a hustler, I always think there is money to be made, I want to create wealth. There is a big pile of money out there; it’s just about finding a way to access some of that for yourself. However, this drive for a better life, for having nice things and good quality is always met with self-doubt. I think this is quite a British thing, to compare ourselves to people who have less. ‘Look, there are people starving in Africa.’ Be grateful, yes I am, but there are also people taking a year holiday in Cannes.

  I am not saying I shouldn’t be grateful, but why am I always taught to look down and never to reach up? There is a good life out there with my name on it. I don’t want to be part of the machine and live to work. I want to have money in my bank, I want to look after my mum and my family, I want to make something of myself. But this is always juxtaposed with self-doubt and the ‘but how?!”

  I wish women felt more confident in their abilities. I have seen my mum make £100 last a month with four small children, I have seen her paint her own ceilings, build her own shed, cook, clean, work, repeat, all whilst having a migraine. And yet every day I come across women trapped in the system of nine to five hating their lives. I wish we had more confidence in our abilities.

  Is it any wonder we don’t have the confidence in it, when we don’t even have confidence in our own skin? Why would we have confidence in our careers?

  We fall short on our sex lives, our thigh gaps, our careers and our appearances. I will see a friend and compliment her on her dress, I say, ‘Hey babe, that’s a nice dress!’ Do you know what her response is to ‘That’s a nice dress’?

  ‘What? Oh this? Yeah, it’s cheap, really cheap, I got it in the sale actually a few years ago, colour doesn’t really suit me, you would look amazing in it, I mean it looks frumpy on me because when I bought it I was really skinny and I’ve put on a lot of weight and I didn’t think I would see anyone today when I left the house and here you are looking at me and oh my God, please avert your eyes, I look like a monster!’

  Subtext: ‘I hate myself, I hate myself, I hate myself.’

  After a compliment?!! That’s the wrong answer, bitches; do you hear Beyoncé putting herself down like that? Hello, no. What would Beyoncé do?! Upgrade herself, that’s what. If someone comes up to you and says ‘That’s a nice dress’, your response should be ‘Damn right it’s a nice dress, and I’ll tell you something else for nothing, it looked shit on the hanger.’

  Why have we learnt to self-deprecate everything – our body image, ambition, goals and dreams? I see lots of my friends struggle with confidence in their careers. I don’t see it with dudes. For example my friend Delia – you remember Delia, my Destiny’s Child-loving friend with amazing eyebrows? She is one of the most talented artists I know, can draw anything, she’s so talented. She does nail art and can paint Snoop Dogg on one nail and it’s epic.

  She works as a teacher, a great, wonderful profession, but any other waking moment she gets she is drawing or creating or painting. So I’m like ‘Delia, quit teaching and run your own business, do nail art, you just need to start as a one-man band, build a social media following, go for it, you are too good to not do it, you’ll end up selling your stuff to Topshop and be a millionaire in like five years’ time.’

  Delia’s response is ‘Don’t be silly, I’m not going to set up my own business, no one is going to want to buy from me, plus I wouldn’t know the first thing about the financing side of it. No, it’s fine, I like teaching, besides, I’m in my thirties, I live in a shared house, I work to get paid to pay my bills, I am this close to moving back to my mum’s house and on Saturday I failed my driving test for like the eighth time.

  ‘I can’t be fannying around trying to start again, plus I’m gonna be 33 in a couple of years, I should be thinking about having babies soon because apparently if I don’t it’s going to be very difficult, and have you been on Tinder lately?!! It’s really fucking hard. Besides, I love teaching, I love my kids, it’s fine.’

  And I’m like, what?! But Delia you are so good, the world needs to see your gift, yes you are an amazing teacher and kids need that, but your vocation is art, Delia. I want people to know how amazing you are, like this is your unique talent, no one else can do this like you can; I want people to know you exist!

  Delia is like ‘It’s fine, I’ll retire when I’m 75 or 90, whatever they make the retirement age by that time and then I will just work in a sandwich shop.’

  Then I will see a guy friend with a fraction of the talent Delia has and suggest ‘Mate, you are good at that, you should think about setting up a business one day.’

  Do you know what his response is, 99 per cent of the time? ‘I watched The Apprentice, how hard can it be?!’ No qualms, no questions, no doubts. Confidence in his ability.

  And it’s irrelevant if the dude pursues his goal or not, it’s the immediate attitude of ‘Yes, I can do that.’ I love that confidence, I love my men feeling that sure of themselves, I love my men feeling that capable, I don’t want to see men be brought down, I want to see women step up and match that self-assurance.

  My childhood may have taught me to doubt my instincts when it comes to life decisions, but it made me stronger when it came to trusting my instinct in my work. Plus Chicago had changed my game. It encouraged me to believe in myself and believe in my comedy. I felt stronger than ever.

  I didn’t care that I was nearly 28 and moving back home, I didn’t want to work for someone else, so I put an advert on Facebook and offered a six-week improv course, three hours a week, for £100 and waited to see who responded.

  I had ten names. I had a course. People wanted to learn with me. I was delighted and petrified. I found a room above a pub I got for free and every Sunday I would travel to London and run the workshop. It became successful and I taught for the rest of the year whilst gigging in the evenings.

  I’d been home for about six weeks when Klaus got in touch and wanted to meet up. He had been in Germany since I came home and had just moved to a new place in London. I wasn’t going to see him but then I remembered I had no willpower, and we met. We met on Valentine’s Day, and again maybe once every few weeks. I found myself getting caught up again. I was getting bored of it now. We would discuss all the reasons he loved me but couldn’t date me because he was just not ready for this kind of relationship. He called it an ‘impasse’. We would have a break, cut each other off and then a few weeks later meet up. It was on and off, on and off and it was exhausting.

  Gert’s wedding came around, which was in Germany, and Klaus and I were invited. We weren’t together and this was going to be so awkward. I arrived in Berlin but got held up because of the weather. There were no buses or trains leaving the city and I didn’t have the cash for a taxi to the hotel. I called Klaus and he sent his dad to come get me. His parents called me Smiley. I didn’t have the heart to explain to them that last time we met I hadn’t been expecting to see Paint Dry and that was why I’d had to fake it and smile, since then I was fucking their son on and off, so instead I just had to keep smiling more than usual so they just thought I was normal.

  Klaus arrived the next morning. We went to the wedding, we slept in the same bed but he wouldn’t have sex with me as he didn’t want to lead me on. The next day as we were wandering around the streets of Berlin, we walked past a jewellery shop. I saw a pretty little silver ring; Klaus went in and bought it for me. He came
out and said, ‘Luisa, I got this for you as a symbol of our friendship.’

  After the wedding, we came back to London and he invited me and my mum out for dinner. At the last minute he couldn’t make it but he told me to cover the bill and he would pay for it. We spoke that night on the phone about our infamous impasse and how he was just not ready and then he just went quiet for about a month and a half (not on the phone; he said goodbye first. I mean in real life. Just slowly nothing). I was sad, but I was OK. I would tell myself he would call me by the weekend, but he never did. Not a day went by that I didn’t think of him, but I figured this was his way of having distance. I would have preferred to have this in Chicago but never mind.

  Instead I focused on my gigs and my classes. I wanted to expand the classes, so I thought about teaching comedy for kids. I called up my old primary school and asked if I could come in and do a free comedy workshop after school. I already had my CRB check from my teaching qualification; the school was lovely and invited me in. Before I knew it, I was running improv classes in three different schools. I called it Comedy Club for Kids. Very imaginative.

  Improvisation is brilliant for children. Scrap that: children are brilliant for improvisation. They are naturals at it. As we have got older we have learnt behaviours to fit in and in doing so dulled our senses. Improvisation allows you to be free. It’s especially good for kids who don’t feel like they fit in or struggle to concentrate in class, or whose English is a second language. I loved getting letters from mums telling me how their eight-year-old never got out of bed for school, but on Tuesday mornings he jumped out because he knew he’d got a comedy class to come to. I loved it. I wanted to help these kids, the more oddball the better. I loved them. I didn’t want the cool kids, I wanted the outlaws, the nerds, the non-English-speaking, the geeks. And I got them and they excelled. Running my own little company and making money gave me such a sense of confidence.