You can tell I’m working class from the tattoo on my leg. Apparently, this means I also eat kebabs and frequent two star resorts in Benidorm. So says a (now deleted) review recently published on a theatre blog. In which rather than reviewing Clinton Baptiste’s show, the writer chose to critique the largely working class audience.
I wasn’t surprised when I read the review, just eight per cent of people working in the arts are working class. So being treated with contempt is par for the course when you are a marginalised community.
But why is class at the Edinburgh Fringe so important? And what can we actually do to make a difference?
I’ve been talking about class at the Fringe since 2018, when I set up Best in Class to support working class comedians. There are a lot of barriers for working class people in the arts, but for me, it boils down to three main things:
- Money
- Time
- Contacts
The first one is easy, the Fringe costs a lot. For a full run at a big venue with professional production you’re looking at around £10,000. Most working class people don’t have this sort of money lying around, nor do their family. The financial risk when you don’t have independent wealth to dip into means that much less working class people perform at the fringe. I know working class people who have done sex work, medical trials and sold their belongings to raise the money to bring a show to Edinburgh.
Working class people are usually in low paid, precarious jobs, and pay more for their rent than middle class folk do on their mortgage. This means to earn the 10k needed for a Fringe show they need to work harder and longer. They won’t have as much free time to develop their work, write their show and gig. They are also unlikely to have the benefits of remote work, career breaks and flexible schedules. Less time to work on your show, means you are already starting on the backfoot. In a competitive environment like the fringe, this can influence the fine margins between success and failure.
I went to an average comprehensive school, none of my classmates work in the arts. There are no famous school alumni. None of my family show up in blue on my wikipedia page. I don’t even have a wikipedia page. I never played kiss chase with someone who now runs a production company. My uncle can’t give me a leg up with a job at the BBC (he can get me meat off the back of a lorry but that is a different story).
The Fringe has long been a launch pad for careers within TV and Radio. In August the London centric industry moves en masse to Edinburgh and set up temporary offices in tenements and student flats. Talent is spotted, meetings are had, stars are made, deals are done and shows are commissioned. All off the back of successful fringe shows.
A fictional TV panel show has a diverse lineup of comedians. Team A has Phill Wang, Mel Gedroiyc and Richard Ayoade. Against them are Sophie Duker, Al Murray and Sally Phillips. Now what if I told you that all of Team A went to Cambridge, all of Team B went to Oxford and every single comedian on the show was privately educated. Not quite as diverse as you first thought, is it?
That’s not to say those comedians aren’t talented, but it does magnify the lack of meritocracy within the industry.
How about a panel show with Jayde Adams, Darren Harriet and Lindsey Santoro facing Thanyia Moore, Josh Jones, and Jordan Gray (Ok, I’ll host). Is that too many regional accents in one room for the general viewer to cope with? Too many leg tattoos, too much appetite for kebabs? What are we frightened of?
Working class people are not a homogenous group. They are naturally diverse, with intersectionalities that check the tick boxes we endeavour to fill in our quest for representative line ups. More working class people means more diversity, it really is that simple.
Authentic working class voices are what the industry is crying out for. To get this we need to put resources into working class talent at all levels. The Keep It Fringe Fund recently offered £2,500 bursaries to 180 fringe acts. The Fringe Society proudly boasts that one in three of the recipients were working class. Which of course means that two thirds were middle or upper class. 120 recipients, or £300,000 to people who are more likely to afford to be at the fringe in the first place. That’s not to say that those recipients were not all deserving of the money, a middle class artist who needs adjustments for their disability or someone trying a new creative way of delivering their show. But when working class people cannot even afford to be at the festival, it would have been far better spent with a commitment to supporting a majority of artists with a financial disadvantage.
For the few that do make, they are up against what can seem like a network of people which they will never be part of. Without the old school tie, or the correct handshake grip, without the friends in high places maintaining the status quo. Working class artists are pushed into novelty and variety roles, rather than writers rooms and panel shows. But the more people that break through, the larger the pool of working class talent to choose from. It really is a numbers game. In 2018 I brought 8 working class acts to Edinburgh, now we have a network of over 60 who we support with workshops, bursaries and advice. If I’m not the right working class act for you, then I probably know someone who is.
Sian Davies: Band of Gold, 16.15 Laughing Horse @ City Cafe, August 1 – 25
https://tickets.edfringe.com/whats-on/sian-davies-band-of-gold
Best in Class, 19.00, Laughing Horse @ Three Sisters
