Finding a way out of the spiral of shame

By Matt Dawson

Justine Rogers took her audience on a journey into the ‘shame spiral’ during her Sydney Fringe Festival show at the Factory Theatre, Marrickville.

Set among used car yards, smash repairers and non-descript warehouses, the Factory Theatre captures the essence of what the ‘fringe’ means in a city. Posters and signs show attention to detail, setting an ‘underground’ vibe. Red neon lights guide people through the labyrinth of makeshift theatres to the show.



Justine Rogers in action
Photo supplied: Jeremy Belinfante

Justine’s show Shame You’re the Worst details her emotional experience after a man dumped her via email.

“He didn’t even start a new thread, so the subject line of the email was RE: Hey. Outlook had indented all our previous email correspondence into an archaeological dig of romantic disaster,” she told the audience.

Shame and guilt are different, she says. As explained using PowerPoint slides and a Venn diagram, she says guilt occurs when we “think what we did was shit” while shame happens when we “think we are shit”. Shame is not a primal extinct but a social construct, according to Justine.

A law lecturer by day, comedian and science buff by night, Justine Roger’s tale of rejection happened while she was doing her PhD thesis at Oxford University. It resulted in this, her first big solo show.

Fellow comedian Mikey Robins, best known for appearing on the ABC’s Good News Week, sees a bright future for Justine.

“Most people would describe Justine's material as edgy but I actually find it quite charming. There's a wit and intelligence behind those gags that is very refreshing,” he says.

Mr Robins believes that today’s stand-up comedy scene is more inclusive and less male-dominated than in the past.

“It really used to be a boys’ club, with the occasional woman in the line-up. These days it’s much better not only with more women but also a much greater degree of cultural diversity than ever before,” he says.

Justine spoke about her show’s themes and her motivation for exploring the social world.

“Part of the motivation to look at other people’s behaviour is to understand your own. People looking at the social world are naturally analytical, and for good or ill probably turn that analysis inwards,” Justine says.

Being a twin and a middle child in a family of eight, Justine believes the roles we adopt in our youth shape the ways we interpret the social world.

“The eldest from big families are comfortable saying what they mean and sticking to it. The youngest enjoy being adored and are more confident. For the middle lot, all the roles are taken, so they learn to observe and develop a better understanding of what is going on around them,” she says.

Her material is thoroughly researched and draws on theories of sociology to cut to the essence of social interaction.  Her one hour show is lighthearted but challenges audience members to assess their own sense of self-worth and the emotion of shame. Using charts, pictures and diagrams, Justine explains why people feel shame.

Photo supplied: Justine Rogers

Earlier this year, Justine challenged orthodoxy at TEDx Sydney by delivering a parody speech detailing the key ingredients of how to make an inspiring TED talk.

“I am disappointed. None of the other talks today followed the six-point formula that I have devised. First of all, the introduction; your introduction needs a childhood anecdote. And make sure that the anecdote barely connects to your topic,” she said.

TED talks have attracted many high profile speakers, including Richard Branson, Bill Gates and Jane Goodall. According to its website TED “is a US based not-for-profit enterprise devoted to the propagation of ideas worth spreading”.

“It’s not about TED. I learn from and share TED talks. The speakers and artists at TEDx Sydney were brilliant. I just like to poke fun at things that have gotten stuck, where people are holding onto an attitude a bit too tightly,” she says.

“But it is always punching up. TED’s stronger than me; they are okay with or without my jabs.”

Justine also performed at this year’s Adelaide Fringe in show called Aggressively Helpful along with fellow comedians Alice Fraser and Alex Wasiel.

“Justine's comedy is filled with honest recounts of her own bizarre, heartbreaking and raw experiences,” Alex Wasiel says.

Alex believes her exploration of the social world works, “because, ultimately, comedy is about truth, surprising truths.”

Looking for the man behind the sign

A view from the Sydney Harbour Bridge:
Sirius Complex, 44 Cumberland Street, The Rocks

By Matt Dawson

If you have travelled across Sydney Harbour Bridge in a car, on a bus or on a train in the last 15 years, the chances are you have seen it. It is visible throughout the day and illuminated at night.

The sign, ‘One Way! Jesus’, is clearly visible to Harbour Bridge commuters. Its constant presence has crept into the psyche of thousands of commuters.

The city’s streetscape is littered with signs. Signs are a vital part of our lives. They direct us, educate us, persuade us, inform us, cajole us, bully us. They offer us a sense of place and routine – and sometimes even comfort. Most are official signs erected by the agencies of authority.

But “One Way! Jesus’ is a private sign. It sits in the window of No.74, a top floor apartment in the Sirius apartment building in Cumberland Street, Millers Point. The occupant proves to be as elusive as the message delivered by the sign itself.

It is my fourth visit to Sirius to meet the man behind the sign. Despite a letter, a note via a friendly neighbour, dozens of calls on the external intercom and persistent door knocking, an eerie silence emanates from No. 74.

I have strategically spread my visits across different times of the day – early morning, late morning, mid-afternoon, late afternoon — in the hope of meeting him.

My expectations of uncovering an exceptional subject to interview are low.  The prospect of receiving a refusal to talk does not faze me. But being ignored, that irks me. I complimented his dedication to ‘spreading the word’ in my letter. I pointed out that his sign has been seen by hundreds of thousands of Sydneysiders. Surely his Christian faith compels him to acknowledge my correspondence? Isn’t it hypocritical to promote your message to the world-at-large but eschew human contact?

Maybe I am reading too much into this. Maybe he has moved out or is sick in hospital?  Is it all an elaborate hoax? Could it be that he does not exist? After all, his neighbours offer me only scant detail about him and his movements.

Monday, 10 am. A small woman wearing a yellow beanie and oversized navy sweater walks out of the building. She is carrying green calico bags. She has lived in the building since it opened in 1980, but seems only vaguely aware of the Jesus sign. 

Wednesday, 3 pm. Kelly, another resident who has lived at Sirius since 1999, knows the man in No. 74.

“He is a committed Christian just trying to get his message across. So many people I meet say to me, ‘Oh, you live in that building with the Jesus sign at the top? Yes, I know the one’.” But that’s all I get from Kelly.

Thursday, 9.30 am. An elderly woman with a walking frame recalls him doing her a good deed. Recently she left a set of keys in the mailbox downstairs and he took them up to her apartment.

Monday, 10 am. I meet a male resident who isn’t so congenial.

“That nitwit with the Jesus thing in his window? Yeah, I see him around a bit. He doesn’t say much, he’s a bit of a recluse,” he says.

Monday, 10.45 am. Finally, there is a breakthrough.  Great-grandfather Johnny, 86, dressed in a white polo shirt tucked into brown corduroy pants, is engaged in lively conversation with a female postal worker. He is in exceptional shape for his 86 years, given that just five months ago he had open heart surgery.

View of Circular Quay from the Heritage Room, Level 8, Sirius Apartments

Johnny knows the man in No. 74 well. He even knows his name. In 2010, the two had a disagreement about visitor access to the prized Heritage Room, overlooking the Opera House and Circular Quay. As a result, they agreed to a mediation session at the Sydney Community Justice Centre and have now committed to treat one another with neighbourly respect.

While I now know the identity of the man in No. 74, he remains unseen and his purpose a mystery. The only insight to be gleaned is that he is learning to love thy neighbour.