‘Don’t have any words left’: Carrie Bickmore and her radio show blasted for mocking NZ author
An author from New Zealand has lashed out at Carrie Bickmore and her radio show after copping a brutal salvo of mockery.
An author and poet from New Zealand has hit out at broadcaster Carrie Bickmore and her radio program, Carrie & Tommy, claiming she was subjected to “schoolyard bullying”.
Jessica Urlichs’ work was read out by Bickmore, who was speaking to her co-host Tommy Little, last week. The author, who is followed by almost half a million people on Instagram, didn’t appreciate the level of mockery to which it was subjected.
“I don’t have any words left to truly articulate the schoolyard bullying you displayed in your recent segment across multiple radio stations,” she wrote in a subsequent post on Sunday.
“You used my heartfelt poem (without permission) as your very weak punchline. Your co-host wasn’t allowing a voice for post-partum women, nor you for that matter, and as a woman who was once post-partum it was very disappointing to see you reduce yourself to his childlike behaviour on such an important topic.
“While I want to believe you read my poem with good intentions, you also knew how to read the room and knew the intellect of your co-host. I imagine you knew how it would play out.
“A conscious decision was made to upload it (and leave it up), exposing true colours.”
In her caption, Ms Urlichs said she “wrote this for me, and for all the mothers” offended by the radio segment.
“No one will respond to my messages kindly asking you to remove the content, but I am hoping you will see this. It’s never too late to show human decency,” she said.
‘You don’t get it’: The offending segment
During the radio segment in question, Bickmore read one of Ms Urlichs’ poems to Little on air. He did not take it particularly seriously.
“For some reason, they’re in my algorithm a lot. And they’re like, letters or notes from babies to their mums,” Bickmore explained.
“But they’re not?” Little replied. “I need to ask you one question. And you are an incredibly-”
“I don’t think the baby’s written it,” Bickmore interjected.
“Because you’re an incredibly intelligent woman,” Little continued. “But the first time you brought us one of these, did you think the baby had written it?”
“Of course I didn’t think the baby had written it. It’s through the eyes of the baby,” she said.
“I think you did,” said Little.
“But you decided it’s a middle-aged man that wrote it, and it’s not,” said Bickmore. “It’s a woman that’s got real poetry. It starts with, ‘I love you.’”
“This is a man pretending to be a baby,” Little shot at her.
“No, stop saying that!” Bickmore told him, before identifying Ms Ulrichs as the author.
“Stop ruining it. I think for people out there who’ve had a sleepless night with their baby, this will hit you in your core. This is from the baby.”
That last part was met with mocking laughter from Little and an off-screen producer.
“It’s not though,” he said.
“‘I love you, I hope you know that. But I’m so small and I can’t say it yet. So the tears will come when I need you, and sometimes I feel yours too,’” said Bickmore, quoting Ms Ulrichs.
“‘I know you ache. But I ache for you. Maybe we feel the same. When it’s dark around me, and your face comes into view, I know everything will be OK. Do you know that too? I just want to tell you.’”
“I just want to tell you too, but I can’t, because I can’t speak, and I can’t write, but somehow my thoughts have ended up on the ’gram,” said Little.
As the program put on some, it must be said, tonally dissonant music as an accompaniment, Bickmore continued to read Ms Ulrichs’ work.
“I love you – stop it! – but I just can’t yet. So I’ll stretch out my arms instead. I’ll protest and fuss when you put me down, when all I want is your smell. A wholeness. Because you smell like the two of us, as if we were one,” she read, as Little kept laughing.
“You’re all I need. I can’t wait to know more about the you before me. Right now, it’s us.”
“When have your kids ever asked you about your life before they came along?” asked Little. Bickmore just kept reading.
“I love you. When you kiss me goodnight, I fall asleep as we breathe each other in. When I wake, again and again and again, searching for you, you’re searching for you too. While we find each other, I know it’s constant, but you are my constant, because these days filled with nothing are everything to me,” she said.
“And soon my head won’t rest on your chest. Soon my cries will become words instead – see, now the baby can speak!”
The poem ended with the baby smiling up at the mother and saying: “I love you too.”
The men on air continued to laugh at the conclusion.
“You don’t get it,” Bickmore protested.
Little asked whether her son had ever actually asked her about her life before he was born.
“Oh he couldn’t give a s***,” she joked.
When a video clip of the segment was posted on Instagram, Ms Urlichs commented underneath it to express her disappointment.
“If you’d asked for my permission to post this and I’d seen how it was mocked throughout I would have said no,” she wrote.
“I really appreciate when people share my words because I hope it helps more mums. But my writing just felt like a punchline here.”