Is it really a surprise that Phoebe Waller-Bridge worries about being a 'bad feminist'?

The Fleabag and Killing Eve mastermind probably feels nervous of “getting it wrong” because women in similar positions are so often pilloried even when they’re getting it right

Do you fantasise about being Phoebe Waller-Bridge sometimes? I absolutely do. God, it sounds stressful though.

The Fleabag and Killing Eve mastermind explained in a recent interview that she worries about falling into the trap of being a “bad feminist”. For her, as someone (rightly) held up as a fantastic example of modern feminism, there remains the fear that she might at some point fall into a pothole, and fail to be a “perfect spokesperson for the cause”. She added that she was aware that the central character of Fleabag, though honest, is far from perfect, which might invite criticism for the same reason.

With so much already proven, it might seem strange to some that someone so conspicuously talented and accomplished as Waller-Bridge could still fret about messing up. But it’s no wonder she feels this way.

A question often asked of women in comedy is: “What is it like being a woman in comedy?” This is never asked of men, because the male experience is so ubiquitous that it is the default. When a man makes a show featuring mostly men, it’s TV. If a woman makes a show featuring mostly women, it’s female TV.

This pattern is reflected across the entertainment spectrum. When Captain Marvel opened last weekend, the question on everyone’s lips wasn’t “will this movie be good”. It was “will this woman be good”. As it turned out, both were so good that Marvel broke box office records on its opening weekend, even despite trolls determined to wreck its Rotten Tomatoes review score before they had even seen it.

Because women are the outliers, it can feel like screwing up might ruin not only their chances of a successful future career, but other women’s as well. “Why would we make another female-led movie/sitcom/TV drama? That other one was rubbish,” a producer might say. Beyond the work itself, this scepticism can also manifest as: “Why should we listen to what women have to say? That one got it wrong.”

Take Lena Dunham’s millennial sitcom, Girls. When Girls first aired on HBO in 2012, it wasn’t just hailed as a great new sitcom. It was “proof” that a very young woman – Dunham was just 25 when it came out – could not only conceptualise, but be the face of a massively popular programme which told the stories of other women like her, which people of all genders and ages enjoyed. Girls wasn’t just for girls.

But despite playing such a significant role in pop culture history - arguably because of the attention that role received - every misstep Dunham has made since has been lightning rod for criticism and ridicule. Her fame is predicated on her cleverness as a writer and performer, but unlike sundry male comedians who sustain successful careers despite being consistently offensive in one way or another – like Frankie Boyle, Ricky Gervais, Chris Rock, Russell Brand – every other aspect of Dunham’s life and persona – even her health – is treated as fair game for criticism.

As recently as 2018, Ian Hislop mused that women probably turned down opportunities to appear on Have I Got News For You because they were “too modest”. The notion that such an appearance might be exponentially more daunting for a woman entering a male-dominated environment in which most of the men are regulars and have nothing to prove clearly hadn’t occurred to him. Neither had the obvious advantages of having a roster which wasn’t painfully one-dimensional.

When the otherwise male panel (most notably Hislop himself) failed to take news about sexual harassment in Westminster seriously in 2017, it was Jo Brand who rightly called them out, making the episode one of the most commented-on in its history. In a bleak warning to other women who consider being similarly frank, it was also the BBC’s most complained-about programme that fortnight.

For women entering historically male environments, especially women who make their opinions known, every job title comes with a silent addendum, a figurehead. It is no wonder that Waller-Bridge should feel nervous of “getting it wrong”, when so often women in similar positions are pilloried even when they’re getting it right. To write a multi-faceted, messed-up character in the face of such pressure is not only brave, it’s bucking a claustrophobic, patriarchal trend. In writing a flawed woman, Waller-Bridge exhibited brilliant feminism.