My Terrifying First Time On National TV

“The only religion that ought to be taught is the religion of fearlessness.” –Swami Vivekananda

My phone is still on airplane mode because I can’t bear to watch myself on TV and before I turn it back on and read a single comment, or hear from my family or friends or read that I’m a Nazi shilling for the Trump administration or a white supremacist or God knows what else they’re going to say, I want to write about the experience leading up to and going on Ben Shapiro’s show on Fox News while it’s still pure in my mind.

When I got the email from Ben's producer last Wednesday asking me to be on a panel, I immediately screenshot it and sent it to my cousin and right hand woman.

“I’m fucked.” I said, because I knew, deep down, that I would do it, even if I hadn't said yes.

Now for those of you who don’t know, according to the people on the left, Ben Shapiro is literally the devil. In fact, when I told my friend, his exact words were, “Ben Shapiro the literal devil?”

EVERYONE I mentioned it to at first but for three people told me not to do it, so I stopped telling anyone pretty much immediately. “You’ll never work in Hollywood.” Or, “Aren’t you worried about death threats?” Or, “You might as well get a #MAGA hat.”

Not to mention, the panel subjects were going to be sexual assault and Kavanaugh and #MeToo in a world that has never been more divided. As someone who has been raped, my biggest fear was saying something that would hurt victims.

A good friend from twitter said, “Bridget, you’ve come this far. If you’re not gonna do it, you might as well not go any farther.” 

We were supposed to tape Friday but because there were so many moving parts and the news was changing so rapidly, it got pushed to Sunday.

I can’t emphasize how terrified I was all week on top of all the other emotions going on with the hearings. I’m pretty sure I didn’t eat and I definitely forgot to turn in a column that was due.

A pretty big star got wind of it and reached out and said, “I’m calling to tell you that you’re strong enough to handle this and you have support.”

The only fucking point I wanted to make was from the perspective of a sexual assault survivor who landed somewhere in the middle of the Ford/Kavanaugh hearings. It was really the only thing that mattered to me and here is exactly how I had it written and in my mind what I wanted to say or something to the effect of:

As a sexual assault survivor I’m pretty disgusted with both sides because they’re both doing or saying things that are hurtful to victims. On the right I see a lot of unnecessary denial or rape apologist rhetoric. She’s a liar” or “She was far from being raped.” On the left we see the political weaponization of #MeToo and also the idea that, “I believe her” is enough to convict someone. It’s completely compatible to give victims the benefit of the doubt and respect due process. Part of the reason #MeToo was so explosive was because it crossed party lines. Sexual assault isn’t a partisan issue and when you make it one, it stops being about the victims and becomes about winning. But no one wins—as we are seeing.

It’s embarrassing to admit the tricks your head plays on you before you perform, you can hear how you want to say it—I imagined myself sounding articulate and smart and polished like my friends Bethany Mandel or Bari Weiss when they do these gigs—and you know how you want it to be received and like stand up, it’s very rarely ever the reality.

My friend with experience said, “Whatever you do—don’t blank.” 

Mind you, I’ve done stand up comedy (and blanked) but I’ve never done ANYTHING like this and I had no idea what to expect. I also wasn’t aware it was a timed format so you had to try to spit those points out as fast as you could. 

And it wasn’t like I was doing my friend's cable access show. This was Fox News, basically considered “state media” on the show of one of the most loathed men on the right. It’s also a network family members and friends watch. I didn’t want to make an ass out of myself or disappoint them all the while disappointing lots of other people.

Right as I’m getting out of makeup and heading to the stage a friend texts, “Don’t forget Trump might see this.” That text fucked with my head more than anything because it reminded me of the world outside of the studio.

I'm trying, desperately to remember my talking points and all the tips you get and all the things I already know: be yourself, stay in the moment, relax, yoga breathing. I'm a frickin' yogi for God's sake and I forgot how to breathe.

Fear was blanketing my mind. My heart raced.

They rushed me out of makeup and right to the stage and then we were pretty much rolling. The other thing that threw me off aside from the lights, the fear, the cameras, were the two giant monitors playing the show behind the cameras, so there I was, seconds behind myself on TV in front of me.

It was so disorienting and then suddenly Ben was talking to me and…

I blanked. 

If you’ve seen the panel and you were cringing during that first question—I can’t tell you what it’s like to actually be experiencing that moment but –it’s like entering the sunken place or having an out-of-body experience.

All the pressure I had put on myself to be brilliant and funny. All the fear of the way I’d be perceived and people and family members no longer talking to me. All my stage fright culminated in that one, horrific moment.

I could see Ben looking at me, suddenly a bumbling moron searching for words, like, “You fucking dumbass don’t blow it.”

There’s no way to explain the horror of blanking like this because it’s like your brain just completely empties out and you can’t find words or thoughts or even remember what you were asked or talking about. I can only imagine it’s something akin to slipping into dementia. Sheer terror and panic set in and I feel myself stumbling through the answer. It felt like ten minutes had gone by and for a split second, I seriously consider getting up and leaving the set.

I push through. Mortified. But I don’t really have any time to dwell on it because it’s already time for me to talk again before my cheeks are done burning with shame and embarrassment. The other two girls seemed polished and poised and practiced. I felt like the high school drop out sitting between two straight A-students.

Ugh. So much for articulate.

The rest of the segment is a blur and honestly, I have no idea what I even said, because I felt more like myself and settled into the moment but I know I wasn’t as smart as I wanted to sound.

And that’s okay. It was an amazing, exhilarating experience. One that I’m forever grateful for—even if it ruins my life—because it pushed me waaaaaaay past anything I’d ever done or even thought I would do. 

There’s an expression—life begins outside of your comfort zone—and ain’t that the truth. 

So here’s to my new life as political pundit, even if that life is short-lived and here’s to taking risks and pushing yourself past what you think you’re capable of and here’s to blanking on national television.

And now I suppose, I’m ready to turn on my phone. 

Maybe, someday, I'll watch the segment.