Photographed by Kim Santos
As a comedian, Fran Ayala Rock reminisces on the proudest moments in her career, and why laughter brings people together.
This essay, as told to Vogue Philippines digital writer Celine Lagundi, is a part of the series Vogue Voices, Vogue Philippines’ series of personal essays on memory, culture, moments, identity, family, and community.
The proudest moment of my comedy career happened when we hosted a crossover show with B*tches in Stitches Hong Kong here in Manila. Two members from the Hong Kong chapter, Rose Rage and Jen Dunco, flew in to perform. Rose was one of the women I first ever performed with, and Jen was one of the newest members of their crew. To have them on stage with our Manila team, plus my friend and drag queen Pichi Keane, was electric. The audience felt it too. There was a rare energy of connection, as if we were all in sync. I remember thinking, “This is it.” It didn’t matter where we were from. What mattered was our shared belief in inclusivity. That night, I truly felt seen for all the work I’d done to build a more inclusive comedy scene. That’s why it stands as the proudest moment in my career.
Comedy has taken me across the world: from Hong Kong to the Philippines to the U.K., and one thing I’ve learned is that audiences are different every night. Filipinos, though? We love to laugh out loud. We’re not shy about it. But beyond nationality, audiences shift. Maybe they’ve had a long day, maybe it’s a weeknight, maybe they’re in a totally different headspace from the last time they saw you. As a performer, it’s on me to read the room, connect, and make people laugh.
After eight years, I still reuse some jokes I wrote three, four years ago. If they work, they work. I don’t release full sets online, but I do rearrange my material based on the night. I’ve got a setlist of chunks I pull from, depending on who’s in the room. If the crowd is full of single women, I’ll lean into dating and sex jokes. If it’s an international crowd, I’ll talk about the cultural differences between me and my husband. And if it feels like a night for clean comedy, I’ve got that too. You adjust on the fly.
Writing is a mix of solo work and collaboration. I sit down with a topic, write with a premise and punchline, maybe add tags later on. I don’t always stick to a formula, but it’s good to know the rules before breaking them. One thing I love is our free monthly virtual writing workshops with B*tches in Stitches comedians from around the world. We spend the first hour on joke-writing theory, then the second putting it into practice. It’s our comedy gym. And again, it’s completely free. No gatekeeping. If you want to join, just DM us. We’ll add you to the WhatsApp group and send you the schedule.
I know what it’s like to be othered, excluded, told I don’t belong. That’s why I believe in building community. I don’t buy into the idea that success means stepping on others. We should lift as we climb. Laughter should bring people together. Especially in an industry where women and queer performers are often sidelined, I want to make sure no one feels like they don’t deserve to be on stage. Anyone who wants to try should get the chance.
We create shows where women and queer people can sit in the front row and feel seen, not anxious about being the punchline. If we want to grow the comedy scene, we need to make space for more voices on stage. It’s that simple.
I’ve had hecklers. I was once asked to flash the audience mid-set. My response? “Did I just get colonized?” But these days, not so much. B*tches in Stitches has a strong brand. People know what to expect: we don’t punch down. And when I’ve been the only woman on a predominantly male lineup, the biggest win wasn’t laughs, it was the women who came up to me afterward saying, “I totally relate.” That’s enough for me.
To women and queer comedians starting out: this won’t be easy. You’re going to hear “no” a lot. People will resist you, argue with you, even mock you. That’s why it’s crucial to find your people: comedians who share your values and will support you through it. You’ll have hard days. But the key is to keep writing, keep performing, and remind yourself that the nerves mean you care. When you stop caring about doing a good job, then I think you stop growing as a performer.
What gives me the most pride right now? We just expanded B*tches in Stitches to the United Kingdom. By complete coincidence, a group in Manchester with the same name reached out, and now we’re merging. We’re officially an international community, and that means the world to me.
And the greatest joy? The friendships. The people I’ve met who push me to be better, who accept me, who’ve become some of my closest friends. Comedy requires vulnerability, and to find that kind of love and creativity in others is incredibly rare. As I always say, “Everyone needs more laughter in their lives.”
Fran Ayala-Rock is a comedian and founder of all-femme comedy collective B*tches in Stitches.
By FRAN AYALA-ROCK. As told to CELINE LAGUNDI. Photographs by KIM SANTOS. Sittings: Bea Lu.
