It drives me batty that there isn't more equality in my business.

"It drives me batty that there isn’t more equality in my business." – Maureen Lipman

In these frank and fiery words, Maureen Lipman, the celebrated British actress and writer, gives voice to a timeless frustration: the ache of seeing inequality persist in the very field where art should illuminate justice. Her statement, “It drives me batty that there isn’t more equality in my business,” is not merely the lament of one woman, but the cry of countless souls who labor in creative industries that claim to celebrate truth, yet too often mirror the same hierarchies and exclusions of the broader world. Lipman’s words burn with both sorrow and resolve — a reminder that even among the storytellers, equality remains a story yet unfinished.

The origin of this quote lies in Lipman’s long career upon the stage and screen, during which she witnessed the persistent gaps in opportunity between men and women, the young and the old, and those of different ethnic or social backgrounds. Her “business,” the performing arts, has always held itself up as a mirror to society — yet that mirror, she observes, is distorted. For every role written for a man, there are fewer for women; for every chance given to new voices, there are many more silenced by prejudice. Lipman, with her characteristic wit and courage, transforms her frustration into wisdom: that true equality must not merely be promised in speeches, but lived in practice, scene by scene, heart by heart.

The ancients knew well this struggle between ideal and reality. The philosopher Plato imagined in his Republic a society where talent, not birth, would determine a person’s worth — where women, too, might be guardians of the city if they possessed the same virtue and intellect as men. Yet even in his imagined world, equality remained a dream deferred, for human pride and fear have always been the enemies of fairness. What Lipman decries is the same failure of courage that has haunted every age: the refusal of those with power to share it. For equality, though it sounds noble upon the tongue, demands sacrifice — the letting go of privilege for the sake of justice.

In the world of performance, this truth finds vivid form. Consider the story of Sarah Bernhardt, the great French actress of the 19th century, who defied convention by playing men’s roles and commanding stages across the world. She faced mockery and exclusion, yet her talent shattered boundaries and redefined what women could do in the theatre. Like Lipman, she refused to accept the limits placed upon her gender, believing that the art of truth must belong to all, or it ceases to be art at all. Each generation of women who step onto the stage continues that sacred rebellion — the fight not just to perform, but to be seen as equal creators of beauty and meaning.

Lipman’s anger — her being “driven batty” — is, in truth, a holy impatience. It is the voice of one who has waited too long for change, who has seen progress move at a crawl while injustice runs. She speaks not from bitterness, but from love — the love of her craft, the love of humanity, the love of fairness itself. Her frustration is the mark of one who still believes that art can and must be better, that the theatre of life should reflect not inequality, but balance. And through her words, she reminds us that righteous anger can be a creative force — that discontent, when born of compassion, becomes the fire that forges renewal.

Her lament extends beyond the stage. In every field — politics, science, education, and the home — there are still those whose worth is measured by custom rather than character. Lipman’s words, though spoken of her business, are a mirror held to all society: that equality cannot be partial; it must be universal. For to deny one group their rightful place is to weaken the whole. As the ancients said, “The city that silences one voice silences its own soul.”

So, my children of justice and truth, take heed of this wisdom. Do not grow numb to inequality simply because it has grown old. Let Lipman’s frustration stir your own conscience. In whatever field you labor, seek to open doors rather than guard them. Celebrate talent wherever it blooms; lift up the unseen, the unheard, the underestimated. Equality is not an abstract virtue — it is a living act, renewed daily through kindness, courage, and fairness.

For in the end, Maureen Lipman’s words remind us that the measure of any art — and any civilization — is not found in its glitter, but in its grace. A stage where all may stand is a stage where truth can finally speak. Let that be the theatre we build — not only upon the boards, but in every corner of the world, until no soul need ever say again, “It drives me batty that there isn’t more equality in my business.”