The year 2014 was the moment when I felt a seismic shift in the podcast landscape. As someone who had been an early adopter of the medium, part of me wanted to reject the rise of Serial. It felt wrong to have “terrestrial radio” style programs breaking into our medium and creating these highly produced miniseries. I think on some level I was too in love with the D.I.Y. nature of podcasts before that. The story of Marc Maron reinventing his career from his garage was what we all sought to achieve. It was a place where everything was formless, allowing the host to make their own rules and produce content that could range from a few minutes to several hours. Serial ended up being a good show, but given that I was now seeing parodies on Saturday Night Live, I knew that our special little thing was about to become the new mainstream.
More than anything, I miss what it was like to discover podcasts prior to 2014. The pool was so small that it felt like everyone collaborated in a manner that helped you discover their work. Whatever I didn’t find through the four or five essential shows, I would find by scanning iTunes’ Top 100 podcasts. It was easier to give something offbeat a chance because there weren’t dozens of competitors. I wouldn’t immediately be filled with a whole week’s worth of content by filling up my queue with shows that qualified as “sounds interesting.” I understand this is as much a byproduct of growing older and not having as much time, but I miss the enthusiasm that an odd title would give. Now, I’m unsure how much of it is trying to be Serial, where it follows a self-conscious format that is just terrestrial radio playing out in a three-act structure. I need something genuine.
Somewhere in those hours of podcasts, I discovered Cameron Esposito. It was a time when I’d listen to WTF, Nerdist, Maximumfun, or Comedy Bang! Bang! and practically have a notepad out. If the guest was entertaining enough, I would track them down. I listened to a lot of stand-up albums around then, connecting with a generation who was coming out of the nearby Upright Citizens Brigade Theater. If they were on Doug Loves Movies, I was more than familiar with their style. At some point, I remember Esposito was on there talking about how she loved the sex scene in Bound (199-6. By then I knew she was a lesbian, but the concept of paying attention to queer artists was still fairly new. Outside of Throwing Shade, Esposito was one of the first who opened my perspective and made me realize how much bigger the world was.
A key moment came when she appeared on WTF to promote her recently released album “Same Sex Symbol.” She had also started a podcast whose emphasis was interviewing gay comedians about their journey. Given how new podcasts were, there was a novelty to the premise, especially given that it was 2015 and in the final days prior to America making gay marriage the law of the land. It was still taboo and many believed that universal marriage was never going to happen. Our public understanding was so different, and so was another topic that she brought up: the coming out story.
Because it had never been a concern for me, I didn’t see the problem in asking the person “What did your parents think?” On some level, we are all curious about what those not in the room thought. We all want to be accepted and there’s merit in knowing that your parents had a positive reaction. However, Esposito’s opinion was one of those earth-shattering revelations that altered how I saw things. The question shouldn’t be “What did they think?” it should be “What did you feel?” With that simple shift, her podcast had a hook that was substantial, beginning my empathetic journey into seeing queerness as something you can possess without it having to be for somebody else. You can have pride in being yourself.
I understand that it’s a bit ridiculous to think someone ever needed to say that, but it’s the type of message that media wasn’t pushing during that time. Gay marriage was *kind of* legal, but only in the sense that it was a state issue. As a result, I think the idea of queer rights was perceived very differently and the community was still very much othered. Even in cinema, this was a period where cisgender actors were getting Oscar nominations for playing transgender women (who ultimately died as victims) in films like Dallas Buyers Club (2013) and The Danish Girl (2015). Even five years later, I was floored by how things changed in representation. But that’s not exactly what I’m here to talk about. I’m here to discuss a record that had an impact on shifting my worldview.
As mentioned, I used to regularly listen to stand-up albums. Along with Esposito, I was a fan of comedians like Morgan Murphy, Jen Kirkman, Tig Notaro, and Sara Schafer. It was a golden age for alternative comedy, especially as each of them presented their own unique perspective that differed heavily from the male alternative. It’s difficult to not know what kind of record you’re getting when pressing play on “Same Sex Symbol.” The cover has a vague David Bowie quality to it. As she comments in the opening track, her hair makes her “look like Portland men."
Having not heard this record in several years, I was amazed by how contemporary it still feels. This isn’t a quiet story of revelation like Rothaniel (2022). This is a full celebration. She talks about the struggles of being gay and married to her partner River Butcher. Among the recurring topics of her set is the struggle for men to accept her as being not into them. There are constant jokes about Esposito and Butcher being approached under the guise of niceness only for a man to ask if they would be game for a threesome. It’s cathartic to hear the audience laugh, knowing how infuriating this part of culture is. The idea of “you just haven’t found the right man” is a topic that consumes a large part of the lesbian journey. She even jokes about how someone once yelled out “That’s one of those women that doesn’t sleep with men.” To have her be so proud of this acknowledgment was new to me. Expected, but I hadn’t been aware of gay comedy before. Later on, she would take down a heckler that yelled “You’re hot,” clearly unaware of the previous 40 minutes.
Nowadays, a show like this could be considered a bit one note because of how it makes being gay Esposito’s whole identity. Outside of a few other jokes, every piece is about her sexuality. What I think gives it some credence is how different queer politics were in the mainstream. You had to really seek it out and certain topics weren’t as widely discussed. As a result, having her break down the inaccuracies of lesbian porn creates is brilliant. Similarly, hearing her discuss the awkward adventures of being gay at a strip club leads to some jokes about feeling immature in the face of hypersexuality. There’s so much that is about simply existing in the world and making the audience recontextualize how they see things. Even the closer deconstructs how one person can hear whack-a-mole and the other guacamole. She perfectly reflects on how this symbolizes two people’s abilities to coexist with different wants and needs without it being a problem.
If there’s one thing that feels humorous in a dated way, it’s a joke about babysitting a child who’s afraid of The Jungle Book (1967) and worries that monkeys will kidnap her. She says that she wants to have her watch Se7en (1995) so that she’s afraid of straight white men serial killers. While I think it’s still a very funny premise, many things about it feel wrong simply because of the road Kevin Spacey’s career would take in the not too distant future.
The thing that shines through most in “Same Sex Symbol” is that it’s difficult not to like Esposito. Even as she embraces every corner of sexuality, she’s self-effacing, talking about her childhood struggles and her insecurities with taking the bus. She feels like she’s so much more than the gay comedian. As simple as it sounds, the ability to be gay and accepted for yourself is the real achievement of this record. It produced empathy at the exact moment that it was needed, sacrificing commercial safeness for something more genuine and interesting. Even her crowd work is adorable as she forms a bond with a fan named “Julip.” The way her voice grows affectionate remains a standout. In a record full of jokes, her ability to connect with the audience and not have it be hidden behind impersonal male deflection really resonates most.
But this record also has something that I don’t miss from 2014. Towards the end, she breaks free of her comedy to focus on something that permanently roots the show in a moment. In the closing track, she recalls that one state’s gay marriage is at risk of being overturned. Whereas in 2023 this might cause a substantial backlash, in 2014 hearing Esposito discuss how she could predict its failure was a real gut punch of a time gone by. Yes, gay marriage is at risk as many rights are taken away, but there’s at least the mirage of support from President Biden to protect LGBTQIA+ rights. Back then, it was a state’s rights issue and anyone betting that Obergfell was going to pass Supreme Court hadn’t been paying attention. To be gay felt like being second class citizen, where you didn’t have the same advantages as your peers. So to hear Esposito recognize the contemporary issues may date it, but only in the sense that it reflects a disappointment of where America was and unaware of where it would be in a few years.
A lot of albums that I listened to from then have faded into obscurity. It’s just how time works. However, “Same Sex Symbol” is one of those records that always comes across my memory every few months, reminding me of certain lines. It could be that Esposito’s career since has been fairly substantial. I’ve heard her on podcasts like Put Your Hands Together, Queery, and Wham Bam Pow. Her appearance on WTF reminds me of how Todd Glass would later come out on his show because he felt there was an urgency, believing that it would be beneficial to a gay community that was suffering from oppression and mental health issues (I also want to mention that James Adomian is another gay comedian worth checking out). She has done plenty to make her voice heard and continues to do good in the world. I am grateful for what this album did to make me notice the nuance and absurdities that come with being lesbian. Even now, it feels like an endearing document of identity.
In 2023, I have noticed some small changes in how the discourse is. Earlier this month I watched Hannah Gadsby’s new special Something Special (2023) and was impressed with its similarities to “Same Sex Symbol.” Both detailed one woman’s relationship with a partner and even the annoying loopholes around marriage. Outside of Gadsby being Australian, there was something impressive about her being able to explore queerness. The audience was more willing to hear her joke about more mundane conversations as if they were an old married couple from a 50s sitcom. There was, more importantly, a discussion of intersectionality where Gadsby being autistic informed her relationships. I understand that maybe it’s just presentation, but there was something that felt more normalized, less needing to set up jokes with defenses or struggles with society. Most of all, the happiness was deeply rooted in her success.
As far as media that feels symbolic of my changing view, “Same Sex Symbol” feels vital. Even in a time where it feels like, politically, LGBTQIA+ rights are at risk of backsliding, there is something timeless about how Esposito discusses her interests. The crowd accepting her and laughing at every queer analogy makes you realize that there’s always been a market for diversity. There was just a need to find a platform that allowed them to speak long enough to have others recognize that. While I was initially against podcasts becoming adopted by groups like NPR and movie studios, there has been some value in making content more accessible. It allows you to process things and make sense of this ridiculous world. I’m sure without podcasts my life would be very different. I would live day to day very differently. I discovered a lot of great art, like “Same Sex Symbol,” that way. If time allows, I want to keep moving in that direction.
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