Among the resurgence of adult animated shows, Bob’s Burgersstands out for its joyous, optimistic look at working class family life. Madeleine Chapman spoke to John Roberts about impersonating his own mum and how that became a full-time gig as Linda Belcher.
I watched three seasons of Bob’s Burgers before bothering to look up the voice cast and I was shooketh beyond comprehension when I saw John Roberts’ face on IMDb next to ‘Linda Belcher’. No way did that guy voice a mum character who is emblematic of almost every mother in the world. And yet, there he was, all man face and Y chromosome. Digging deeper, I soon discovered that this was no one-hit wonder. John Roberts was one of Youtube’s first stars thanks to his series of videos where he impersonates his Brooklyn mum. They’re hilarious and relatable and somehow perfect.
Since those videos over ten years ago, Roberts has played his mum on stage, in a web series, and now vicariously through Linda Belcher. Roberts is also an accomplished singer and so it’s no surprise that Linda is too, being the star performer on The Bob’s Burgers Music Album, a collection of every original song written for the show (over 100). The songs are lyrically ridiculous and masterfully produced, an appropriate description of the show itself.
When I spoke to Roberts over the phone, I wanted so badly for him to ‘do the voice’ but I was too scared to ask so instead we spoke like two regular people.
Did you even have to audition for this part or did they see your YouTube videos of your mum and just ask you to do it?
Yeah basically it’s a small world in the New York comedy scene and one of the writers, Holly Schlesinger, was close with my manager at the time and I was performing the YouTube stuff live as well, which is how I started doing it, onstage. They caught wind of it and came to see my show and yes, Loren [Bouchard, creator] cast me as Linda based on that character.
Was singing always going to be a big part of Linda’s character or did you bring a bit of that once you started recording?
Well it’s funny, I had no idea that me and Loren were both music nerds and both really into music, like we have all the Guitar Centre gear catalogues and we’re always into the latest gear [laughs]. I do love to sing, and my mom’s not a singer but we were always singing around the house growing up, so Linda would just break out into improv song. I think it was kind of just a good match with me and Loren in terms of just us both loving music and having fun with Linda kind of improvising stuff and then them starting to write a lot more music into the show, which was a really great surprise.
With improvising, do all the voice actors record together to do that or do you do it one by one?
We record together and it makes for that backstage green room comics vibe. So it’s a lot of fun, everyone’s laughing, and it’s an ensemble so everyone’s kind of getting a shot to be hysterical. My face usually hurts at the end of every record. We’re able to improvise a lot. We do about three takes for each scene, and usually on the second and third scene we’ll start to improvise a little. Loren has a lot of patience and he’ll really listen and just let us go, and pick some gems out of there. Or we’ll play off of a scene and create another scene that would maybe go back to the writers room and they’d maybe bring us in for pick-ups to re-record a bit of that to shape it into a full bit.
You hear a lot of film actors talking about how they love doing animated because it’s so, quote, “easy”. Is voice acting really that easy?
It’s extremely difficult [laughs]. No, it’s too easy. I have to pinch myself a lot that this is my life because it is too easy. Although I waited tables and did odd jobs and things for a good twenty-something years, so I know what it’s like to suffer [laughs]. I’m enjoying it but it does feel oddly too easy. But all the work is the animation and the writers, they’re really doing all the hard stuff.
The Belchers (Image: Youtube)
On the album, there’s a lot of Linda obviously because Linda’s the big singer on the show.
She’s got a big mouth, yeah.
Is it easier to sing in character as Linda or as yourself?
It’s actually harder to sing as Linda. Especially sometimes, like when it was allergy season here and then my voice got really low. They were picking some pretty high songs for me in really high keys. I just did a really high disco ballad and it was very hard to sing as Linda. But the fun part is Linda’s not a professional singer. And she often sings when she’s drunk or just having fun, so it doesn’t have to be perfect with Linda. When I sing I try to make it sound as good as possible.
You’ve played your mum in YouTube videos and you play Linda, who’s also a mum. Are mums just funnier than dads?
Dads are pretty funny but moms are funnier. They’re just more full of life, really. Dads can be pretty boring. Moms just never stop caring and nurturing, and out of that nurture and that nagginess of it all – which comes obviously from a place of love – it’s endearing but funny. It’s this the person that gave you life so, you know, moms are special. But they are funnier.
It was mothers day here two days ago and my mum got messages from all of her kids except for one. And she posted a message in the group chat saying “thank you to all my wonderful kids except that one who I didn’t hear from” which I thought was very funny. She didn’t mean it to be funny. Somehow mums are just funny even when they’re being serious. And dads kinda try to be funny and aren’t really that funny.
Exactly. Moms can’t help themselves. My mom is like that. Even just watching her from afar when she’s on the phone or talking about going to Atlantic City. My mom also has a very thick Brooklyn accent and there’s something that also makes that even funnier. It’s very east coast New York City, Boston, Italian Jewish woman vibe. And they’re a funny type of woman. But all moms are funny in their way.
That’s what I thought was kind of incredible. I was watching [Roberts’ videos] ‘The Christmas Tree’ and ‘Mothers Day’ and ‘The Phone Call’ on YouTube. And even though your mum is so different to my mum, somehow they’re exactly the same. Especially the phone call, my mum does exactly that. She might be talking to a friend, she’s talking to a sister in another language, but somehow there’s these universal things that mums do.
Yes, talking on the phone and you hearing their one side of the conversation. Growing up it was almost soothing to me. I would get under the dining room table and just look at the bottom of it and listen to her talk for an hour, whether it was about soap operas or anything. There’s something very relaxing about it. And very funny. Because it’s just the one side of the conversation so you’re left wondering what’s going on.
Linda loves a phone call (Image: IMDb)
Although Linda is a huge part of the show, a lot of the episodes focus more on something happening at school or something with Bob. So when you get an episode like ‘Eat, Spray, Linda’, which I loved because we finally got to find out some more about what Linda does, like taking a daily poo in the hotel lobby. Do you try contribute to these finer character details to keep her unique and not just ‘the mum’?
Absolutely. Of course, the writers are so good and they love Linda, they have a lot of fun with her. She’s an honest mom and she’s fun and playful and she’s not afraid to be different and kinda be loud. She doesn’t hold her kids back, either. She lets her kids be who they are with their individuality and that’s a fun, playful character that everyone’s gonna love. Especially since she drinks wine and she sings. She wears her heart on her sleeve. And those are the best moms.
You voice Linda perfectly, same with Dan Mintz and Tina. I can’t imagine anyone else doing it. Have you had any backlash from people about the fact that you’re a man voicing a woman?
When I got nominated for an Emmy there were a couple of people that commented. There’s always, I think, going to be a little bit of that, but we certainly didn’t invent it. The Simpsons [Bart Simpson is played by Nancy Cartwright] and even before that, King of the Hill, where Pamela Adlon played Bobby. That’s just the beauty of animation, the gender bending part of it. So I don’t see that I’m taking work away from any women because it goes both ways. There are women that voice boy parts too. So I don’t think that’s really an issue at all.
It’s such a distinctive voice that Linda has. Have you been on any other animated shows, because you can obviously do voices really well since you don’t sound anything like Linda right now. Are you branching out?
I’m just pretty much doing Bob’s. I’d love to at some point do a film or something, but I think for now Bob’s is great for animation. I’m working on another project for HBO with Amy Poehler and Jon Benjamin, who plays Bob, and that’s live action. I’m also doing stand-up and I just did a bit on the new Blondie album, so I’m also doing music. I like to be on the creative side of stuff so auditioning isn’t really my favourite thing. Which also makes Bob’s such a miracle job because Loren cast me in the role as opposed to me auditioning. It’s kind of a bummer to audition a lot. I try to avoid it. I’m a creative person so it’s easy for me to stick my head up my ass and just write [laughs] as opposed to memorising lines and all that sort of stuff. With voiceovers you don’t have to memorise lines, that’s the beauty of it. You just walk in and it’s very easy.
Loren said they don’t plan to have the characters age at all.
No, that would be horrible.
Is there something you wish you could do with Linda that you won’t be able to do if she stays at the same age?
It would have to be like a fever dream or something where she imagines it. Or maybe one of the kids writes a story about it and then we’d get to see Linda old. Or maybe It’s a Wonderful Life with Linda or something like that. It would be fun but I definitely think it’s smart for him not to age the characters. That’s also the beauty of animation is that even though we’re all rotting away for the past seven years, the characters look exactly the same age.
I’ve seen videos of Nancy Cartwright surprising people on the street with the fact that she voices Bart. Do you ever just whip out Linda’s voice in public?
I don’t surprise people. If somebody’s sick or needs cheering up, I like to do a voice message. I do that a lot, that’s a big one. Usually leaving voice messages gives people something to keep so it’s fun. It’s funny because no one’s gonna recognise me as Linda, really, so if I ever really needed some attention that would be a good way to get it. Go out to the mall and just start talking like Linda and see if anyone asks for my autograph. That would be really sad but I’m not going to rule it out.
So will your mum be taking a break from the internet spotlight?
Yeah well it’s been ten years since I made the first one, and a lot of them actually. I feel like it’s so much with my mom and on Bob’s Burgers that it just gets a little tiresome to do the same thing. What’s nice is they’re all kinda holiday based so they come back each year around the holidays. It’s like a greeting card or something that comes back around. I feel like we’d be beating a dead horse a little bit.
Do you have a favourite song from the album?
I love the ‘Turkey Song’. I love ‘This is Working’ because I took my mum to see Glenn Close on Broadway and I was like ‘hey maybe I could be in a musical’. ‘This is Working’ sounds like I could be in a real musical. The diarrhea song is just so stupid but it’s really funny, the dialogue about ‘sorry we’re late, Bob had diarrhea’. I like the ones where I’m not singing as Linda. ‘Lifting Up the Skirt of the Night’ and ‘Baby Hold On Me’ has more of my Michael McDonald voice.
One last important question. Does your mum watch the show?
Oh yeah, she watches every week. She loves it.
More Reading
Does she see herself in it a little bit?
For sure. The ‘alright’ thing where Linda goes [Linda voice] “Alriiiight!” That’s literally from my mom. That’s something my mom says all the time. She’s my muse for Linda.
The Spinoff’s music content is brought to you by our friends at Spark. Listen to all the music you love on Spotify Premium, it’s free on all Spark’s Pay Monthly Mobile plans. Sign up and start listening today.
All this week the Spinoff Review of Books is covering the new, very candid memoir by former Green MP Holly Walker, and the mental health issues she experienced in parliament. Today: an interview conducted by Green candidate Chlöe Swarbrick.
Read an excerpt from Walker’s book, The Whole Intimate Mess, here.
Chlöe Swarbrick: What was it like deciding to put this out there? I’ve talked to people who were in the House during your term who had no idea what you were going through. Is there, for lack of a better term, any sense of fear or apprehension? Or is it just completely cathartic?
Holly Walker: Writing it was completely cathartic, and really beneficial therapeutically.
The few people that have read it to date – some of my family members, my partner, my mum, and a couple of test readers, have really, especially the test readers, who are mothers too, have had really encouraging responses. They’re saying, “I felt like that at different times,” or “I thought I was the only one who had done that”, so I was really encouraged by that because I thought, yeah, this is what I wanted to achieve. I want people to get this feeling of, “Oh, someone else has been through this, or feels the same way as I do.” Which is a feeling that I get from reading other people’s writing, especially about this kind of experience.
So I was really pleased with the response of those readers, but that’s a really small pool of people who I’m close to. It’s definitely terrifying to be at this juncture, knowing that it’s about to be read by a wider audience.
That’s very scary, and I think that, part of what I had to figure out with this book was how I could reconcile the parts of myself that are public with what’s actually going on for me privately. Certainly, when I was in Parliament, I didn’t feel like that was something that I was able to do at all. So I’m not surprised to hear that my colleagues had no idea what was going on because I wouldn’t have wanted to share it.
I really admire that you have been open about mental health as a candidate, because it’s really important for people to hear that other people feel the same way – that people in public positions, people with high profile – are having those experiences too.
It really felt to me like there was a barrier to doing that for me; like it wasn’t possible.
Holly Walker gives her maiden speech to Parliament, 2012
We’ve got this notion – it was reinforced in the US election as well, with Trump going, “Hillary doesn’t have the stamina,” consistently inferring ill health or mental health issues or otherwise. Do you think that we need to make it more okay for people in those public positions to speak openly about these things, or would that shatter an illusion – an illusion which is perhaps necessary to a certain extent?
It’s a really tricky question. I’ve come around to the view that it’s really important for people from all walks of life to be able to talk frankly about mental health, and what it’s really like, and in my particular case, what it was really like to be in Parliament and be a parent of a young child.
All of those things, I think, we gloss over in the dominant narrative. I think it would be great if public figures spoke more openly about it, but there remains still this risk for doing that, because although we’ve come a long way at reducing stigma around mental health and being more open-minded as a society, we still have a long way to go.
It’s not a coincidence that I’m no longer in parliament now that I’m saying this kind of thing. It certainly didn’t feel possible to me then.
That’s one end of it, being completely open with our flaws as human beings, but the other side of things, which you also touch upon in your book is when you talk about walking your baby in Petone, and taking a photo and posting it on Twitter, and then receiving a well-meaning message from someone in the media or press informing you that the optics weren’t great. That prompts two questions. The first is about the curation of our lives on social media – you’re going through a really hard time at that point – and that’s a good day for you, and you’re putting it out there which serves to for all intent and purposes reinforce the facade, or curated perception of you.
The other is, the perpetuation of this notion that politicians always need to be working, and can’t be perceived as “slacking” which in turn lends itself to the dominant paradigm of our time – that you need to be working all the time.
How do you feel about social media, and the imperative to only share the positive? Because, I guess, there have been a few studies that have indicated that social media has made us perhaps more miserable.
Yeah, it does. I mean, certainly around parenting I think. It can be hugely isolating for new parents. This is true of me; before I had had kids, I would have seen my friends and their pictures of the good times. You know, lovely family moments, and cute babies, and reinforcing things, which actually are all true – family life can be amazing, and babies are cute, and those are the things that you want to celebrate. But there’s a whole other side of that experience which simply isn’t part of that narrative. So it can feel really isolating when you’re in it, and it seems like you must be doing it wrong or there must be something different about your experience because it doesn’t match up with the Instagrammed narrative.
Campaigning with baby
Do you think that’s changing with the likes of bold parents and mothers, such as Emily Writes, opening up about the holistic experience, warts and all?
I do think it is. The blog that I found, by Janelle Hanchett, was about becoming a mother, and about the person that you are before you became a mother, who kind of dies actually when you become a mum. Yes, you’re still the same person, but you’re also somebody else. That was the first time that I’d seen that articulated in such a real way. And there’s been a proliferation of that since then. It’s really positive and healthy because it’s just reassuring to know that actually what you’re going through – the good and the bad and the ugly and the messy – is all normal, and everyone is doing a good job.
People like Emily, who I think has been hugely beneficial and helpful to mothers, I think they do a huge public service. And at some risk to themselves, it has to be said, because there’s a lot of online blowback for that. But it certainly helps to know that what you see on social media is one quite sanitised version of events, and it’s quite normal to struggle and to be exhausted and tired, and you know to shout at your kids doesn’t make you a bad mother or a bad person.
It makes you a complex human being. The other part of it, with the want or the need to perpetuate this story that politicians are always working. Where do you think that originates from, and is that still the case, do you reckon?
I think it originates from the fact that politicians are not a trusted profession, generally. And, we do pay politicians well, so the public feels like they’re sort of entitled to a high degree of service and availability from their elected representatives. I think most members of the public probably think we have too many MPs and we pay them too much money. I don’t agree with that, but I understand why that’s a commonly held belief. So in return for that, there’s an expectation that you are available, that you work hard. There’s a perception I think, that apart from a few high profile hard workers, that there are a bunch of MPs that are kind of cruising.
Most people in Parliament work really hard. It’s a job that doesn’t have clear boundaries; there’s the times that you’re in parliament, which is reasonably straightforward, but when you’re not, there’s all number of other things that you could be doing. You could be attending every event in your community. If you said yes to every invitation, your whole diary would be full.
And, somehow within all of that, you’ve got to also keep on top of all the reading and material – you know, reading papers for select committee, for the House, and you have to be a subject matter expert in your portfolios, and keep in touch with stakeholders in those areas.
So there’s absolutely no limit to how much work you can do in that job. And I think if you’re a concientious person who feels that responsibility then you kind of feel like you should be always working.
And then when you’ve got a young family, there’s also no limit to how much time that could take up. So they’re two pretty incompatible propositions really.
You do speak about it in your book – the difference between male and female MPs, and also prime ministers, both in Australia and New Zealand – who’ve had children, and the women who’ve progressed in politics actively choosing not to have children. How would we go about supporting more women with young families to become MPs? Is that something you’d support?
Absolutely. If someone was to come to me now, with young children and ask for my advice about whether they should go into Parliament, I wouldn’t say no don’t do it, because my experience is only my experience and others have had different experiences and been more successful at combining those things than I was. But I also would be very frank about how incredibly difficult I found it.
When I met with [National MP] Katherine Rich while I was still pregnant, and she didn’t say this in so many words, but when she said, “If you ever need someone to just come and hold the baby I will do that,” and I barely knew her, she was signalling the same thing to me I think. You know, signalling this was going to be really really difficult.
So, yes, I think under the current settings that we have, more women could do this, but they would find it really hard. Things need to change in order to make politics available to a larger and more representative group of women, including women with young children.
Some of the things that I think would be great were if we enabled MPs to job share. So, when I ran in 2014, although I withdrew from the list during that campaign, Susanne Ruthven was running in the neighbouring electorate, and she had three children and was pregnant with her fourth – and I had had my baby – so if there had been a way for us to run on a joint ticket and say, if elected we will share the role of MP, and do half time each, that would have been awesome.
It might have still been really difficult, and I’m sure it would’ve been in lots of ways, but it probably would’ve made it possible for both us to do a job that would’ve been impossible for either of us as individuals.
So I think we should think about that, and I think we should also think about the list system. In New Zealand, we’re lucky to have proportional representation, and to have a list of candidates who are poised there ready to come into Parliament, if somebody decides to take an extended period of leave, for family responsibilities, or even to care for a sick partner or parent, or for any reason that they may decide they need a leave of absence, why not allow the next person on the list to come into their spot.
It’d be a great training opportunity for that new person to have training in Parliament. For some, I guess it would be difficult to leave their job or whatever the circumstances, but I’m sure there would be a number of people on the list who would be keen to do that. And that would actually allow a decent period of leave so we don’t have people coming back before they’re ready, or when they’re still trying to juggle key responsibilities at home.
You touch also on the glass ceiling of sorts, with 35 or so percent being the stagnated proportion of women in Parliament.
We’re pretty much stuck at that 30 per cent mark. MMP was really good for getting us to there, from around 20 per cent, but we haven’t moved a lot since then. And I don’t buy that there’s a natural ceiling for that. I think there are a lot of capable women who look at Parliament and the kind of proposition of running as a candidate or being an MP and think, “No, that’s not compatible with my other responsibilities.”
That means we need to change some of those rules and constraints to make that easier.
Do you consider yourself a millennial or a Gen X-er?
Probably closer to a Gen X, but just on the cusp.
The reason I ask is that I was having a great conversation with a brilliant Green Party candidate, Kate Fullton, down in Nelson, and she was talking about the notion that perhaps Gen X were the guinea-pigs of the “neoliberal experiment”. You know, born in the 1970s and 80s, during reforms, and somehow their voices are largely ignored in popular and political discourse, especially in the generational warfare framing, which pits Boomers against millennials, those who knew life before those reforms and arguably capitalised on their uptake, and those who are witnessing the wheels fall off of the only system they’re ever known. Perhaps that Gen X experience of being sold a pretty capitalist version of feminism, that you could have it all, and having it all looked like working all day and parenting all night, which seems to be what you’re speaking to in what was your goal before having kids.
What do you make of that?
Yeah, I think that’s spot-on. My generation were that guinea-pig generation. When I was born, most of the welfare supports were still in place. My mum was on the DPB, and we lived in a council flat, so we were supported in that way. And I definitely benefitted from that.
And it was after we needed that support that the Mother of All Budgets came through with its cuts and really started outlining the hard edge of change.
If you look at an issue like student loans – when I was at university, I was still on the cusp of being able to credibly argue for free tertiary education and universal student allowances. My generation of students were like, “Yup, we can see the benefit of that”, but we are deeply embedded enough in the student loan system that we began switching to see education as a private good that perhaps we all need to take responsibility for. And I noticed once I was in Parliament, and the student spokesperson for the Green Party, talking about free tertiary education and universal student allowances, most of the students I spoke to were like, “Oh, but why would you do that?” So we were right on the cusp of those policies and their ideologies becoming entrenched and just becoming the way things are.
You’re totally right. In this intergenerational warfare at the moment, we hear all about the boomers and the millennials, and we’ve got this generation in the middle who are mostly quiet because they’re getting on with raising children.
I always found it difficult, as the Youth and Students Spokesperson, I felt inauthentic talking to millennials, because I was at a different stage in my life. I was parenting a baby, and buying a house – which I only was able to do because I had an MP’s salary.
Holly Walker with her daughter
You just touched on your mum. In the book, you discuss your political stump speech, which I found somewhat funny because of the parallels in your upbringing with John Key, which he used as rationale to say we should strip state support, and which you used as reasoning for why we need it. You say that the stump speech sat a little bit uncomfortably with your mum though, because it was potentially inauthentic. If you had to produce a same stump speech today, would it be a different one?
Yeah, it would. It’s an interesting thing about being a political party candidate, and I’m sure you’ve had this experience too. There’s a bit of a need to craft a narrative about yourself. I guess, initially for the members throughout the list ranking process, especially for those who don’t know you well, and then later for the public. In terms of who you are, and why we need your particular voice in Parliament.
And when you’re young, especially, that can’t necessarily be drawn from a deep and vivid history of work experience, so it has to be from something else. I suspect what was probably going on for me at the time, aside from that somewhat precarious beginning, I had a pretty privileged, middle-class Pakeha childhood that lead to a lot of opportunities for me. Including a Rhodes scholarship – and that’s obviously that bastion of privilege, right?
So, was probably thinking whilst that experience was beneficial and helpful for a potential politician, I needed to demonstrate that I wasn’t just a privileged white girl who had gone to Oxford, then come back and said, yep, I’m ready to go into Parliament. I needed to demonstrate some authenticity in my background, which probably led to an over-reliance on that narrative about the beginning of my life.
But it’s complicated, because none of it is untrue. It is the reason that I believe in state support and public education and public housing, and I know these things worked for me, and they worked for my mum, and they worked for other people I know. I guess the complex reality of who we are as human beings is difficult to boil down into a few sentences, so which ones you choose are important. And can be used to emphasise some elements over others.
It’s a difficult juxtaposition, eh. I’ve been finding it difficult to find this middle ground somewhere between a really complex, messy reality of your life, and as you say, boiling it down and distilling it essentially into this narrative and sometimes even soundbite, which is ultimately used to try and progress a progressive agenda, which is something we genuinely believe in as Green Party members and candidates.
I guess that kind of leads to – do you follow politics at all?
I do. It’s been interesting. When I decided to step down off the list in 2014, I felt somewhat unwilling to do it, because while it was the right decision and that was clear, it didn’t immediately feel like it was what I wanted to do. But as the months passed and I began to process that experience, I felt a great deal of relief as I realised I was no longer in that environment.
At first I thought, “I’ve stepped down from Parliament, but I’ll still be really active in the party, and I’ll go on a million committees and things like that.” But then I thought, “Actually, I still haven’t really processed all these things that have happened and this experience in Parliament and all of the changes that have taken place in my family.” I realised I actually needed to step right back, and just let the dust settle a bit, and get my own mental health in order, then figure out what I would do next.
I’m still a member of the party, but I haven’t been involved in committees or my local branch. I do follow politics in the news like anybody else, but now apart from catching up with old friends for coffee, I don’t have a particular insider’s track into what’s going on.
And that has been a great relief to me, I have to say. I mean, I guess I have a particular perspective when I read or hear or watch an interview, or a list comes out, or there’s a campaign launch, but it’s actually really nice to not be personally invested in that.
I’ve been waiting to feel a really strong push to come back in some form, but I haven’t yet felt that, so I’m just going to wait until I feel it.
You’ve alluded to coming back in previous interviews or blog posts. What would that look like?
I don’t know. When people have asked if I ever want to go back into politics, I haven’t said no way, because I don’t think you can ever be 100 per cent definite about that. But I feel no compunction whatsoever personally to do it. I mean, I feel really invested in the outcomes and I obviously look at what’s going on in the world and internationally and feel very strongly about what I don’t want to see happen, but I feel like my contribution at the moment is through my day-job, in the Office of the Children’s Commissioner.
I feel like we do really good work there, and contribute to solving a whole host of issues that are really most motivating for me. And I feel through my writing, which is less overtly political, or not really political at all now, that I do contribute to discussions on gender and feminism.
I honestly don’t know if I would ever want to get back into politics with a capital P. If I did, it wouldn’t be until my children were much, much older. I’m pregnant with my second child now, so I’m about to go back into that experience again.
How do you feel about the Green Party in 2017, having left your seat not long ago?
It’s full of people that I love and admire. I’ve seen the list come out and felt really encouraged about people like yourself and Golriz and the number of women who are ranked highly on the list.
And I still believe in our vision. That hasn’t changed. I guess I have a bit more distance in being able to look at the Green Party alongside the other parties, with a bit more of a view about what members of the general public would see.
The same debates get had, actually, like the one about the North & South cover. We had a version of that debate in 2014, and a version of it in 2011, around you know, “Are the Greens too corporate, and blah blah blah.” None of it’s new. It feels very familiar.
I guess the best thing to do is just keep on trucking on, and I think it works over the long term.
Are you still reading solely women writers?
No. I’ve relaxed that rule, although I’ve found interestingly that the experience of those two years has changed what I’m drawn to. So, I’m less likely to pick up a book by a male writer unless I have another reason I want to read it. I’d say 80 per cent of my reading is now written by women. I guess it reset my brain in terms of what I look for in a book, and what kind of writing appeals to me.
Towards the end of the book, you talk about your daughter modelling your behaviour, and you saying to her that “We need to be kind to ourselves.” Are you being kind or gentle to yourself? How are you going about learning to do that? I found it just an interesting thing to say in the context of a book where you are very hard on yourself – you speak about all of your flaws, and even now in the context of this interview, you said other women could be more “successful” doing what you did. How do you balance this deep, possibly cynical introspection with learning to be kind to yourself?
That’s very perceptive. It’s something that doesn’t come easily to me. My instinct is always to sign myself up for things, and then to beat myself up when I find it difficult to do it all. That’s been a really tough lesson I’ve had to learn over and over again, but I think I’m a long way there now.
A busy day for me now looks a lot different to a busy day three years ago, and that’s a good thing. To be honest, a lot of that is to do with the lingering affects of my mental health, realising that I do suffer from anxiety and I do need to be realistic about what I can set out to achieve, and that’s a lot smaller than it used to be. Which is difficult to come to terms with, realising that your limits are maybe different to what they used to be, and different to what other people’s are, and not seeing that as a problem or a flaw.
Wedding day
This perhaps relates back to the curation of self, pertinent in the context of our social media bubbles, where we’re all kind of competing, for lack of a better word, on a very superficial level, and not necessarily realising or empathising with our shard day-to-day struggle. You know, our society looks up to the outliers, the Mark Zuckerbergs in place of the hundreds of thousands of entrepreneurs who had similar ideas or have grinded through to create smaller businesses. Your book focuses on part of the process, I guess, in trying to open up the conversation about the private and potentially painful or even mundane, do you think?
I think it’s also probably true that I find that easier to do in writing than I do in person or on social media, so it’s the medium in which I’ve found I’m able to express that full range of experiences. I still don’t find it particularly easy to talk in conversation with someone about it.
I try to share a bit more of a range of things on social media, more slice of life than those curated experiences, but I’m guilty as much as the next person with wanting to share the pretty things, the cute things and the nice things.
So this is the medium that I’ve found in which I’m able to be frank and honest, and now I have to talk about it – a lot!
So how are you finding that? Because now you do have to do all of the interviews, and I guess promote this deeply personal piece of writing.
This is the first interview that I’ve done. It’s not an unfamiliar experience – I did a lot of media as an MP, and I feel comfortable in front of a camera, and on the radio or whatever.
But I haven’t spent a long time talking about myself, or my mental health, so that is a bit daunting.
A TVNZ crew is coming to film a piece about the book, and they’ll be coming to my house and filming the daily routine, and dropping Esther off at kohanga reo. I’m just looking around the lounge now and seeing the piles of unfolded washing and toys everywhere, and I have to make a decision about how much of that I’m going to curate before the TV cameras turn up.
So it’s not comfortable, but it’s part of the project to be able to share with people and be honest and hope they feel a connection in their own lives. And to hope it helps people feel like they’re not alone, like this kind of writing did for me.
Do you have a hard and fast rule about what’s public and what’s private?
No. I admire people who have that hard and fast rule, and sometimes I think I should’ve made a more definite rule about that, you know, before Esther was born, about whether I will or will not put her on Facebook or have media come to the house.
I’ve had a few experiences like that, where I’ve done the interview and then thought, “Hmm, that wasn’t the right call.” But most of the time I just make it up as I go along.
That’s what I’m finding difficult to be honest, at the moment. I’m trying to be totally open and honest but if you’re not discerning about what you let “out there”, it can feel like putting your whole life on a platter for people to pick at.
It’s tricky, and I think for me what I’m finding so far is that the response has been overwhelmingly positive, and that outweighs any niggly negative stuff at the edges. But I know for a lot of women who do this kind of writing, or are in the public sphere in different ways, that positivity is not always the case. I think perhaps the higher profile you become, the more potential negativity you attract, and then the trolls and the sexism and all of that may come out of the wood work.
What do you want people to get out of your book?
The main thing is for other people who’ve had similar private experiences of personal turmoil that feels kind of incompatible with the public job or professional life to feel like they’re not alone – that other people have similar experiences and there’s value in that connection, with others who feel the same. That’s the main thing.
And a little bit for me personally is about I guess, is to be able to say frankly and honestly now, after three years, this is what was going on when I left Parliament as opposed to the sanitised version of events that I relayed at the time.
I guess people will take what they want from it in terms of the bigger questions it raises, the notion that we could do things differently or how Parliament could change. I have views about those things, but I didn’t go into great detail about them in the book. It was more about presenting my personal experience.
I hope it sparks a conversation about those things, but I didn’t want to make it a polemic about “This is what should change in parliament.”
I wouldn’t presume to make a prescription of what needs to change based on my singular experience. We all have different experiences, but if there are common threads in there, they could lead to positive changes and that could be great.
I guess that’s what you point to in the bravery you found in other women’s writing, their telling of their own stories. Even though there may not be explicit parallels, just knowing other people go through stuff and life can be hard.
Exactly. I’m not sure where I saw it now, but a maxim that I came across during those two years is that “The most personal is the most universal”, and I think that’s true, because obviously my experience is pretty unique in being in Parliament at the time that I was, having a baby, and with a partner with chronic pain.
It’s not likely to be replicated by anybody else, but at the core, some of those responses that I had to the situation are universal ones, that will hopefully resonate with people.
More about Holly Walker and women in Parliament this week on The Spinoff Review of Books: