I’ve been thinking about Michael Colgan a lot lately...
I’ve been thinking about Michael Colgan a lot lately. Michael ran The Gate theatre until recently.
He is a man I understood to have a lot of power in Dublin. He told me once that he got the Gate Lab built by making 12 phone calls because he has a lot of wealthy friends who are willing to donate to him. He took an interest in my career when I was very young. He invited me to his opening nights at The Gate. We had stimulating conversations about art, Irish politics and the international contemporary performing arts scene. We also talked a lot about how little make-up I wore. He commented on the outfits I wore to his openings. He suggested I wear dresses. He asked me why I didn’t, “Make more of myself” appearance wise. I got on with Michael. I turned a blind eye to his comments. I accepted his objectification. I put up with it even though I knew better. I wanted a gig. I wanted to know the 12 people he called to build the Gate lab. I regularly called him up looking for money for my own shows. And I liked him. I forgave him for it. I felt like he and The Gate were from a different time, that they hadn’t heard about women’s lib up there. I knew he was an educated man, he was probably only joking. And even if I had of wanted to say anything, I don’t think I could have. I was too afraid to go making a scene; I wanted to make something of myself, and somehow, I felt I wouldn’t go very far if he didn’t like me.
He took me to lunch in the nicest restaurants in Dublin. I drank with him late into the night in members clubs and fancy bars. He introduced me to people. He told me was working class too, once. Sometimes The Gate would buy an ad in our programmes. They even let us rehearse in the Lab for a discounted price.
Then Waking The Feminists happened. Michael was asked onto The Marian Finucane show. He mentioned me. He talked about how talented I was. I texted him to say thanks, and that he knew where I was if he ever wanted to hire me. He sent me back a winky smiley face. Maybe he’s from our time after all.
After the Dublin Theatre Festival launch last year, the crowd retired to The Oak Bar on Dame St. Where I met Michael. He seemed quite drunk, which was not unusual. Michael was often the ‘drunk uncle at a wedding’ at these theatre gatherings. He had even grabbed my friend’s baby earlier in the night and we’d had to politely retrieve the baby for fear he would drop him. He offered to buy me a drink and I said yes. He started looking me up and down. He said “Have you lost weight?” I said “Yeah, I lost weight for my wedding. I just got married”. He said “You’ve lost so much weight, I’d almost have sex with you” I was taken aback, but not surprised. I said “Michael! You can’t say that to me!” He replied “What! I didn’t say I would fuck you. You haven’t lost that much weight”.
On reflection, this was probably the first conversation I had with Michael face to face since Waking The Feminists happened.
At a meeting of #WTF in March 2016, he said he needed extra funding from the Arts Council to achieve gender equality. It’s hard to know if Waking The Feminists had any impact on him.
I took my drink and sat down. I was eager to meet the new directors of The Abbey Theatre, Neil Murray and Graham McLaren. We began chatting. Michael joined us. So far, so normal. But there was part of me wounded. It wasn’t the same anymore. I couldn’t accept these comments anymore. Wow. #WTF might not have changed Michael, but it has changed me.
I felt he was wrong to say that to me, and I felt I was wrong to let him. I started to think about confronting him. I bided my time. He was sitting too close to me. I asked my friend Jason Byrne to join us. I didn’t feel safe with Michael. I wanted a witness if I was going to confront him.
The conversation moved on to Waking The Feminists. Michael called someone a misogynist. I took my chance. I said “Michael, you can’t call him a misogynist. You are the biggest misogynist in Irish Theatre. All I need to say Michael, is to repeat what you said to me at the bar there 5 minutes ago, when you stated that you would have had sex with me, had I lost more weight. That is not appropriate Michael. It’s not an appropriate thing for a man in his sixties, a cultural leader, to say to a young female director at a professional occasion…” He said “Well Grace, as my mother always said, you won’t get very far in life if you can’t take a joke.” I said “That joke is not appropriate Michael.” My friend Jason asked “So hang on Michael, are you admitting that you said that?” He said “Yes I said it, but it was a joke.” I repeated that it was not appropriate.
Before I could finish talking Michael was up on his feet, roaring at me. He turned on a coin. He was now saying he never said any such thing. I gave as good as I got. He called me a liar. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you. I never want to breathe the same air as you” he said. My friend Doireann asked him to calm down. “She’s a pig, she’s a pig, I’d never ever, ever want to have sex with her” he said. He was very angry. He screamed and shouted more. “I wouldn’t say that about that woman she’s a big woman I would never say that about a big woman.” Even in his denial, he was managing to insult me and shame me further. His defense? Of course I didn’t sexually harass her! I mean come on look at her. She’s fat.
He sent me texts all night. Here they are in full.
I didn’t reply. I was spurred on by my moment of ‘calling him out’. I felt I was doing the right thing, like a good feminist. I wanted to complain to his board. I wanted to write an article like this. But more senior arts professionals told me not to, they warned me, he could ruin your life. Could this really be true? I didn’t want to find out. My peers bought me gin and tonics and asked if I was ok. Older women didn’t need to ask, they knew how I felt. They all had their Michael Colgan story. They shared them with me that night.
I see that bar that night like a little microcosm of Irish society. This is why the secrets get kept in this country. It’s all about power, gender, class. Michael is a wealthy Irish man. He is powerful and well connected. I was told to watch out because he knows judges and newspaper editors. Basically he can do what he likes. No one can stop him.
I haven’t spoken to Michael since. I was nominated for Best Director this year with Barry O’Connor for IT’S NOT OVER at the Irish Times Theatre Awards. Michael was invited to the theatre awards, I saw him at the champagne reception. I had to leave the room. I thought to myself how much he has gotten away with… I can’t believe I am the one leaving the room. I wonder who was the first ‘liar’ Michael had to deal with, that he mentioned in his text to me?
Men like Michael, have so much power and so much money, that there is literally no recourse for their actions. That’s not the kind of world I want to live in. I believe we as a community are better than that, but I see that the community has allowed this man (and others) to behave like this without for over 30 years without ever holding him to account. This happened at a public occasion, and very few people spoke back to him, though privately, for weeks afterwards, I got texts from people who were concerned, having heard this story. We need to start to be a community that can be supportive out in the open. We need to trust each other so that if we speak our truth, we won’t damage our careers. That’s the least anyone can expect. Todays statement by leading theatre organisations provides some hope.
Michael’s lewd attitude, inappropriate behaviour towards women and manipulation of his power was discussed a lot during the height of #WTF. I think the reason that this open secret didn’t come out then was that people wanted to find a clear path for people to say their stories publicly without fear of retribution. That is an admirable hope.
Unfortunately, I believe no such path can exist. There is no freedom to speak without retribution. We live in a society set up to privilege men. We as a nation don’t trust women. I am a woman and he is a man. He has friends in high places, I have friends in low places. This is the world we live in, there is no safe way for me to do this. You might say this story is a “he said, she said.” Well, over thirty people heard what “he said”. It’s only a “he said, she said” until she speaks, and she is believed.
Thanks to the brave women who spoke out about Harvey Weinstein, I believe we are now in a different world. I’m still as afraid. But now I am doing it now anyway because one of us has too. I’m ready for the fallout. I trust I’ll have support, and mostly I hope that somehow, I can make this experience easier for the woman who comes after me. I trust that there will be many. To those women, if you’re reading this, know that before you take the courageous step of bringing this secret out of the shadows, whether it being mentioning it to a colleague or putting paper to pen like I am here, know that in the words of the late Christine Buckley, “I believe you before you open your mouth.” Please free to DM me. Anytime.
And please share.
I’ve been advised to add some helplines to this post in case anyone out there reading needs them: