Pushing The Mic Forward: AAPI Comedians Local and National Unite
There’s a twenty something year old film, Shakespeare in Love, that is a guilty pleasure of mine. In the movie, William Shakespeare is a young, befuddled, and lovelorn playwright. The character displays all the attributes of a tormented artist. He is muse-less. His ideas are flat and uninspired, and he is stymied by an insurmountable case of writer's block. Not to spoil a twenty year old film (and I guess the history of theater), but this fictionalized Shakespeare conquers his writer’s block; he finds love, then churns out pages and poems as if they were on a conveyor belt.
In my own way, I can attest to the portrayal of Shakespeare’s experience as an artist, albeit in a much smaller and goofier way. Over the past six months, I have delved into the pursuit of one of my passions—stand-up comedy and comedic writing. During the pandemic, I motivated myself to pursue this dream of mine. Now, I write everyday, not caring much about quality but more about practice. I perform multiple times a week at grungy, desolate open mics and bars, showcases in Ethiopian restaurants, college campuses, really anywhere. I speak and have spoken with a variety of fellow comedians from all walks of life—comics that have been on Drunk History and Late Night, fellow college students, accountants and corporate lawyers, people my mom coached in ice hockey, and prominent city activists, among many others.
My pursuits in stand-up have opened my eyes to new people and experiences. My emotions associated with my passions have been on an ever sliding scale of extremely rewarding to rather taxing, hyper amusing and doldrum boring. I have felt shallow and drained during periods when I was free of stimulating comedic ideas, and I have felt the electric hum of a crowd’s laughter when the audience and I clicked on stage. But most recently, I have turned my attention towards the other comics and their own journeys. I converse with these people about their jobs, families, interests, as well as the reasons they want to perform. I have also noticed the specific types of people that regularly perform. It is well documented that stand-up comedy can be a bit of a boys’ club—particularly a (heteronormative) white boys’ club. At the present, like many other minority groups, there is still a lack of AAPI voices on certain local stand-up stages.
In Philadelphia, I am a part of only a handful of Asian American comics that perform regularly at open mics. This is not an indictment on any group or the comedic scene by any means, but rather a simple observation that I have not met a lot of AAPI comics (and audience members) within a city with a population of almost 1.6 million people where around 400,000 people identify as AAPI. With all this being said, there are tremendous efforts to promote AAPI comedic voices throughout the country.
When I do meet a fellow AAPI comedian, there is typically an instant connection. In aspects of each other's material, we can often find strong relations with one another. We laugh and converse about observations and jokes that are shared between our culture, family life, and upbringing. We also speak with each other about the misconceptions and stereotypes that we face, and occasionally what our parents think of our comedic pursuits.
In many ways, a career in comedy juxtaposes the stereotypical careers and roles that AAPI people are expected to play. The misbelief long held by some Westerners is that Asian people are stern, unfunny, and serious. AAPI comedic pioneers like Margaret Cho made jokes about these presuppositions, as well as her mother’s displeasure with her unorthodox career choice. In many ways, shooting for a career in comedy subverts all presumptions people have made about AAPI people, their families, and their lives. Some peers ask if my parents would disapprove of my passions because of ignorant assumptions about Asians being tiger parents. In actuality, my parents are completely accepting, and my father even helped to spark my interests in comedy. We would watch Jim Carrey movies together over the years, and even today when stand-up comics come on Late Night TV, my father still calls me from the other room so we can watch together. In reality, I have observed that a person's comedy career and the support they receive from their family has a rather negligible connection to their identity.
When I sat down with the acclaimed rising star (and fellow AAPI) comic JR De Guzman, who tours clubs across the world, has a special on Netflix, and has performed on Kevin Hart’s Hart of the City, among numerous other accolades, we spoke about stand-up comedy within the AAPI community. I asked De Guzman what his family initially thought of his decision to become a comic, as well as what he has heard from other AAPI comedians. De Guzman said that “some people's parents are completely accepting, others are the complete opposite. I was in the middle.” De Guzman—who comes from a family of dentists—spoke to me about how he had to sneak out and “kind of lie initially” when first going to open mics and shows. Yet, he said that, today, his parents are accepting of his career, and that “they fundamentally care that he can support himself financially”, and that he is happy, rather than following a specific occupation.
In a field that for a longtime elevated comedians who belittled Asian peoples with racist jokes and impressions, De Guzman and others are ushering in a new generation of comics that are conscious of their platform and ability to change minds with comedy. De Guzman’s song “Asian Guys Can Smash” challenges narratives of the un-masculine and nerdy Asian man portrayed in the American media. De Guzman jokes and speaks about being a Filipino immigrant who was raised in California. Now, De Guzman plans to further explore nuanced topic matters within the AAPI community. He hopes to use his material to tackle subject matter within the AAPI community that addresses the complexities of religion and the intricacies of his own immigration story.
While Asian American comics may not be prevalent in every local American comedy scene, there are still many comics that have been garnering attention for their hard work and talent. Comedians like Patti Harrison, Bowen Yang, and Jimmy O. Yang (among many others) have used their breaks to challenge expectations. They, like several trailblazers before them, are pushing open doors and sharing stories and subject matter that have often been avoided on the stand-up stage.
As a comic myself, there is a certain artistic torture associated with the medium. You spend hours crafting material that you believe an audience will relate to and sometimes it just doesn’t work. This can be attributed to many factors, the prime reason being I am still starting out and trying to get better. There’s still a part of me that realizes my material about growing up in a biracial, Southeast Asian American household has its own niche. It is my aspiration to continue to speak my truth and continue to share my unique story via comedy.
It does help to see representation in my field on a national level. It reminds me that there is a growing desire to hear and laugh at these stories. I am beyond grateful for the AAPI comics who have taken time to mentor me and instill belief in myself and work. Comedy, like any career in the arts, is an arduous and hectic process. But it’s made easier when comics (and audiences) look out for one another. We share a unique, and at times lonely profession, but comics that become aware of the problems of the past and look to unite voices are helping to shape the field for years to come.
Special Thanks to JR De Guzman for taking the time to speak with me. As well as all the other comics that have shared their insights for this piece.
If you liked what you read, be sure to subscribe and follow us on Twitter and Instagram @invisibleasians to stay updated on Politically Invisible Asians!
This is such a great piece, Nate. I’ll have to see you perform when you’re in Philly!