Hannah Gadsby: Nanette

Thank you very much.

Thank you. Might've peaked a bit early, but...

Welcome to my show.

My show is called Nanette.

And the reason my show is called Nanette,

is because I named it before I wrote it.

I named it at around the time I'd met a woman called Nanette...

who I thought was very interesting.

So interesting. "Nanette," I thought, "I reckon I can squeeze

a good hour of laughs out of you, Nanette, I reckon."

But...

turns out...

no.

I met her in a small-town café.

Now, I feel... I don't feel comfortable in a small town. I get a bit tense.

Mainly because I am this situation.

And in a small town, that's all right from a distance.

People are like, "Oh, good bloke!" And then...

get a bit closer and it's like, "Oh no! Trickster woman, what are you doing?"

I get a lot of side-eye.

So I feel quite tense in a small town.

Now, I'm from a small town, a very small town in...

I'm from Tasmania.

Now, of course, Tasmania is that little island

floating off the... arse end

of mainland Australia there, just...

Lovely place.

Famous for a lot of things.

Potatoes. Very...

And our frighteningly small gene pool. That's...

I wish I was joking.

But I am very partial to the potato.

Very versatile... vegetable.

And not all the branches go directly away from the trunk

in our family tree, I will admit.

It's a bit... topiary. But...

I love Tasmania.

I loved growing up there. I felt right at home, I did.

But I had to leave

as soon as I found out I was a little bit lesbian.

And you do find out, don't you? Yeah.

I got a letter.

"Dear Sir/Madam."

Wasn't a great letter to receive in mid-'90s Tasmania.

Because the wisdom of the day was if you chose to be gay...

I say "wisdom", even though homosexuality's clearly not a choice.

Wisdom is always relative, you know.

And in a place like Tasmania, everything's very relative, but I...

But the wisdom of the day was that, if you chose to be gay,

then you should just get yourself a one-way ticket to the mainland,

and don't come back.

Gays... why don't you just pack your AIDS up into a suitcase there

and fuck off to Mardi Gras?

Because homosexuality was a crime

in Tasmania 'til 1997.

Not long enough ago.

And I took a long time to come to terms with my sexuality.

There's a few reasons for that.

A lot of it has to do with bad press.

Yeah, they didn't get a good rap when I was growing up, the homosexuals.

We didn't have social media like we do now, but...

"Letters to the Editor," let me tell you.

Slow Twitter. Brutal.

But in all the debate about... homosexuality...

no one ever really talked about the lesbians.

You know? It was all the gay men. They're the problem!

Anal sex. That's when the devil will get you!

But lesbians, they're like, "No...

What even are they? What they do, though, really?

Do they even exist if no one's watching, really?

No, don't worry about them. No harm in a cuddle."

For a long time, I knew more facts about unicorns than I did about lesbians.

Another reason I struggled with... There are no facts about unicorns.

Another reason I struggled to identify as gay was

the Sydney Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras. Precisely that.

The Mardi Gras was my first introduction to my people.

I watched it on... my TV

in my little living room in my small town.

That was my first introduction to my people. The Mardi Gras.

My people... flaunting their lifestyle in a parade!

I used to watch it, going, "There they are, my people.

They're busy, aren't they?

Gosh. Don't they love to dance and party?"

I used to sit there and watch it and go, "Where... where do the quiet gays... go?

Where are the quiet gays supposed to go?"

I still do.

I'm just like...

the pressure on my people

to express our identity and pride through the metaphor of party

is very intense.

Don't get me wrong, I love the spectacle, I really do,

but I've never felt compelled to get amongst it.

Do you know? I'm a quiet soul.

My favorite sound in the whole world is the sound of a teacup finding its place

on a saucer.

Oh, it's very, very difficult to flaunt that lifestyle in a parade.

I don't even like the flag.

Controversial!

But there, I've said it. Now...

the Pride flag, now, I love what it means, that is perfect.

Pride. Wonderful.

But the flag itself? Bit busy.

It's just six very shouty, assertive colors,

stacked on top of each other, no rest for the eye.

An afternoon of that waving in my face,

I need to express my identity through the metaphor of a nap.

I don't...

I don't think I'm very good at gay.

I'm not the only who thinks that. I've...

I've been getting a bit of negative feedback of late from my people,

the lesbians.

Bit of negative feedback.

'Cause, gosh, don't my people love the feedback. Not...

Not shy!

Not shy with the feedback. One of our spokespeople last year...

Self-appointed.

One of our spokespeople approached me straight after one of my shows

to give me a bit of feedback, and that's my favorite time for feedback.

Straight after a show? Yes, please!

That is when my skin is at its thickest.

The feedback? Apparently, she said,

"I was very disappointed in your show this year, Hannah.

I just don't think there was enough lesbian content."

I'd been on stage the whole time.

I didn't... even straighten up halfway through, you know?

Perhaps I've been slacking off a bit.

When I first started... the comedy,

over a decade ago, always, nothing but.

Nothing but lesbian content. Wall to wall.

My first ever show... was classic new gay comic 101. My coming out story.

I told lots of cool jokes about homophobia.

Really solved... that problem.

Tick.

I told... a story about the time this young man had almost beaten me up

because he thought...

I mean, he thought I was cracking on to his girlfriend.

Actually, that bit was true, got that right, but.... there was a twist.

It happened late at night, it was at the bus stop.

The pub had closed, it was the last bus home,

and I was waiting at the bus stop. And I was talking to a girl, and...

you know, you could say flirting. I don't know.

And... out of nowhere, he just comes up and starts shoving me, going,

"Fuck off, you fucking faggot!"

And he goes, "Keep away from my girlfriend, you fucking freak!"

And she's just stepped in, going, "Whoa, stop it! It's a girl!"

And he's gone, "Oh, sorry."

He said, "Oh, I'm so sorry. I don't hit women," he said.

What a guy!

"I don't hit women."

How about you don't hit anyone?

Good rule of thumb. And he goes, "Sorry, I got confused.

I thought you were a fucking faggot...

trying to crack on to my girlfriend."

Now I understand I have a responsibility to help lead people out of ignorance

at every opportunity I can, but I left him there, people.

Safety first.

The main part, the centerpiece, of that show,

was coming out to my family, and particularly my mom.

Because my mom is very funny. She lives a comedy better than I can ever write it.

Her response to me coming out,

when I told her I was a little bit lesbian...

Baby steps.

Her response... was this. She's just gone,"Oh, Hannah.

Why did you have to tell me that?

That's not something I need to know.

I mean, what if I told you I was a murderer?"

It's still funny.

And it's a fair call. Murderer.

Murderer.

You would hope that's a phase.

Real jokes.

But I reckon I've been slacking off in recent years

with my lesbian content.

I don't think I've been representing my people

as much as I should be.

You know, last year, my grandma asked me if I had a boyfriend.

And I realized, in that moment,

that I'd... quite forgotten...

to come out to Grandma.

I thought I'd...

I remember it being on my to-do list.

I thought, "I'll wait till it comes up in conversation."

But it never does.

But finally it did.

But I did not take the opportunity!

No, I deflected it like a real man.

I said, "No...

No, Grandma.

No, I don't have time for boyfriends."

Plural.

Confident, wasn't I? "But if I had time, heaps!"

And she said, "Ah, well, you never know.

One day you might walk around the corner, and there he'll be!"

"Mr. Right," she called him.

And I have been approaching every corner with caution

since then.

No offense to Mr. Right, if you are out there.

But you're also Mr. Very Very Too Late.

'Cause I've done quite a lot of work on this lesbian situation here

and I don't imagine I've got a tight turning circle on identity.