Harvard College Women’s Center’s ‘Men Aren’t Funny’: A Hysterical Inspiration

On March 8, the Queen’s Head Pub was enlivened with food, drinks, and laughs — all thanks to the Harvard College Women’s Center. In honor of Women’s Week, an annual week of events and celebrations dedicated to promoting the voices of women and gender-expansive people on campus, the Women’s Center held their second annual comedy show, titled “Men Aren’t Funny.”

The title, although jarring for some, is something Women’s Center undergraduate intern Olivia F. Data ’26 is proud of, she said in an interview with The Crimson.

Data recalled pitching the name and being shocked when it was green-lit, saying she “feels great” about being able to enjoy the liberties of free speech in such a public way. Referring to it as “a bit,” Data said the title is “very on the nose,” flipping the script of the unfortunately frequent comment that “women aren’t funny.”

Despite inevitable backlash from the community, which Data brilliantly worked into her set, the larger Queen’s Head Pub was booked for this year’s show rather than the smaller Lowell Screening Room, the setting of last year’s show.

The change in venue was evidently necessary — Harvard students, affiliates, and even non-Harvard students filled the seats. Sarah Seligman, a student at Smith College in Northampton, Mass., attended after seeing the flyer advertising the show. Coming from a women’s college where the events are typically “women-centric or just kind of queer-centric,” Seligman was surprised by the men in the audience and was “glad to see that support.”

As implied by the title, however, there were no men to be found among the show’s performers. Three Letter Acronym (TLA), an improv troupe that performed, was small but mighty without their male counterparts. Katie A. Silverman ’27, who performed with TLA, commented on the separation of the group for this show and her moment of realization that this show of exclusively women comics was rare: one dedicated to equity in comedy rather than equality.

While this evening boasted a welcoming environment, both Silverman and Data noted their apprehension to join comedy spaces. For Silverman, she said that there’s a “very particular type of woman” who can be considered funny — a category that her and her comedy don’t fall into. For Data, starting comedy was an outlet for her bubbly personality and found it “liberating” for women who are encouraged to “be quiet” and “take up less space,” admonishments to which she is clearly no stranger.

Data enjoys the freedom of the space: “People laugh when you say things sometimes, and they give you a microphone, and you get to hold it and talk into it,” she said.

Nonetheless, Data and Silverman remark on the vastly male-dominated comedic spaces that make it both “intimidating” for Silverman and difficult to begin comedy of any sort as a woman. Silverman has found there to be a typical “group average” which makes it difficult to do any comedy that’s “identity-specific.” Similarly, Data finds these spaces can be unwelcoming at the very least.

“There are incredibly funny men out there. There are also a lot of spaces that let them be incredibly funny,” Data said. “And some of the women who did this show never did comedy until someone specifically was like, ‘You are funny.’”

Silverman had similarly wise words for all underrepresented folks: “If you don't see yourself out there, then that's why you need to be out there,” she said.

Data’s advice for aspiring comics, however, is simple: “Support other people doing it.” Audience members sure did at this year’s show — laughs rang out steadily for all women who performed and, in doing so, embodied the bravery to persevere in the pursuit of laughs.

—Staff writer Madelyn E. McKenzie can be reached at madelyn.mckenzie@thecrimson.com.