Can I Be Completely Honest For Once?

13/04/24

You might have noticed that I’ve deleted everything off of my instagram. I’ve also deleted my TikTok and last year, I completely blitzed by Twitter. Then again, maybe you haven’t noticed? And that’s fine to be honest. 

If you’re reading this on my Patreon or Substack now, then you clearly have some interest in what I do, even if it’s just a morbid curiosity based in resentment for my stunning tits. Either way, thanks for clicking through. 

The reason I’ve removed everything off of my instagram and totally deleted my Tiktok account is because I’ve decided to be honest with myself and admit that I really hate creating ‘content’. That doesn’t mean I hate creating. I love making things. Funny videos and dumb images and goofy shit posts have been a part of my psyche ever since I first got online. But the stuff I’ve been putting out lately has been, frankly, really shitty. And not by accident, either. It’s been shitty by design. But why would I do something like that?

Well, the sad truth is - the industry seems to call for it. The ‘daily grind’ of disposable, lowest common denominator, baseline observational skit videos is now considered the norm, and by extension an apparently ‘important’ factor towards determining a reputation. You now see it on show posters: Over 1 Million Likes on TikTok! And producers and agents will now consider it a determining factor towards who they take on. And, after leaving my agent late last year, I too have been trying to find my own way into that ecosystem. I didn’t want to approach it cynically. I told myself that it was possible for me to join in, in a way that was still fun for me. I convinced myself that there was some sort of reasonable middle ground, where I could retain my artistic integrity while still ‘playing the game’. But, looking back at my output over the last few months, I’ve realised that I can’t. 

When I first started doing comedy about 7 years ago, I came in not knowing what I was doing. I never did a comedy course, or knew anyone who could get me stage time. I was just a sad little transgender at a low ebb, with very little money who signed up to an open mic because I needed some validation and connection. I discovered that I had a knack for it, and somehow I managed to snowball that into some pretty good success - building my reputation through consistency, reliability and shear resistance. I came in with a chip on my shoulder, knowing that because I was trans I was being underestimated at almost every turn. I’ve sat through hundreds of transphobic bits and had to draw a line in the sand with many terrible nights and bad-faith promoters. Getting my first agent was a slog of persistence over a 3 year period, eventually wearing them down enough to take a chance on me. I’ve done writing work for James Acaster, Joe Lycett, Hattrick Productions and more. Despite what a few commentators and terf bloggers might say across the web, I am actually pretty good at comedy. But try telling that to an agent right now.

The way the comedy landscape is right now is embarrassing to me. It isn’t the same place as it was when I first entered it. Yes, things change and we have to adapt, but there’s ‘adapting’ and then there’s completely losing your sense of self. It seems like right now no one is interested in taking a single risk - even a tiny one. Production companies are content with wheeling out their same old 5 or 6 faces for The Fringe (and for their regular nights) and the mainstream tv channels are content with wheeling out their same old 5 or 6 faces on their same old 3 or 4 shitty panel shows. It’s really pretty dispiriting. A lot of agents won’t give you a second look at the moment unless you’ve managed to build a soulless, faceless, monumental presence online - which begs the question - if you can do all that on your own, then what the hell do you need the agent for? 

The worst thing about how things are structured now is, it constantly makes me feel like I’m failing. Failing, over and over again, to achieve something I never even wanted in the first place. When I first started in comedy, I always said that all I wanted was a modest, dedicated following and maybe some writing work. And ultimately, it would be nice if I could make a living doing it. Fame was certainly never a part of it - the comedians I loved weren’t ‘famous’ in the traditional sense. None of them had ever been on Live At The Apollo, or had 7.8 billion followers on Instagram for comedic dance routines. They were cult favourites, and I always saw my sensibilities aligned with them. I’m lucky enough to be friends with a few of them now, and still - I feel like because I haven’t been able to appeal to the monstrous TikTok algorithm, I must suck. It’s like I’m constantly gaslighting myself. 

I don’t want to shit too much on other people’s stuff. I get that it’s a competitive industry, and everyone is doing their best to be noticed. Sometimes, great stuff breaks through - and I’d be lying if I said there weren’t a few content creators that I enjoy and acknowledge are extremely talented and funny. But I think a lot of us have forgotten that we’re comedians. We’re supposed to be the ones who dictate what is funny or not, not 13 year olds on TikTok or TV producers who don’t understand satire. We’ve given too much power to these demographics, and are generating dross in the vain hope that we’ll one day be allowed to sideline into something a bit closer to ‘worthwhile’. At the same time though, we’re also all pretending that we don’t know that traditional television industries are dying. Even if we do get onto terrestrial tv, how many people will see it? 

So basically, I’m done with it. Not comedy, or being creative online - but I’m definitely done with compromising. I don’t want to put out anything anymore that I’m not completely proud of. As a trans woman, I don’t feel like it benefits me in any way whatsoever to do what everyone else is doing. My pathway to ‘success’ (if any) isn’t the same as a lot of others in this industry, and it never has been. I’ve had to take a lot of shit to get to where I am now, and I’ve had to tolerate tokenism and prejudiced assumptions frequently. At any given time, there is only room enough for one popular, tv transgender - and it isn’t me. I’m not bitter about that, in fact - I’m relieved. I’m happy for those who have managed to break through in that way, but the way they’ve done it is not in a way I could have ever been comfortable with. 

I’ve remembered who I am again, and have no desire to pander in order to get there. If a prospective agent, or tv producer, or writers room can’t wrap their head around that, or have the backbone to take an extremely minimal risk, then I don’t really want anything to do with them. Equally, if I can’t build an audience to attend my shows off the back of work that I’m proud of, I’d rather pull the gig than have a room full of 13 year olds who saw me on TikTok. I know who I am - a not particularly attractive, clownish, gobby little tranny. I speak my mind, and I burn bridges sometimes and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

I think we are all a bit too overexposed right now, ultimately. Posting a video every single day is not viable for me right now, and frankly - I have better things to be doing. I’ve got a new stand up hour I’m developing, a play I’m writing, a novel I’m finishing and a short film I’m about to start production on. I should probably be putting my attention into those things. 

So, if you would like to continue seeing what I’m up to - the best thing you can do is to join my Patreon. This isn’t about money, either - I have changed my Patreon tiers to simplify it. There is a completely free tier that you can join, and that is where I’ll be posting anything publicly going forward. There is also just one paid tier now, which is £5 a month, and that’s where you can get my secret diary, regular videos and basically an overexposure of Jen Ives. Equally, you can join my monthly mailing list at www.jenives.net if that all sounds like a bit too much of a commitment. 

I’ve decided not to completely delete my Instagram account, because there are still a few people on there that I like to keep in touch with. Also, I’ve really gotten into clay recently, so I might occasionally post a sculpture I’ve made, or a photograph I like, or a tasteful snap of my tits. But if you’re going to stay following me on instagram, don’t expect too much more than that. 

Thanks to everyone who’s stuck by and believed in me so far. This feels like a good thing, ultimately, and I think is the only way I can continue in comedy without resenting it too much.

Jen x