by Marc Maron
DONNELL RAWLINGS—COMEDIAN, ACTOR
One of my brothers, he lives here in California. He’s older than me. He’s gay. It’s awesome nowadays. You get points if you have a gay relative.
He just recently really came out. Black people, you’ve got to make an official announcement. When my brother told me one day, I was at The Improv on Melrose. He came up to me. He was like, “You know, I keep it real like you, right?”
I’m like, “What?”
He said, “See that guy over there?”
I was like, “Yeah.”
“That’s your brother-in-law.”
I was in the middle of taking pictures and shit. It didn’t register. I didn’t think about it. Then I’m driving home. I’m like, “Oh, shit. My brother just introduced me to his baby daddy or somebody, right?”
I call my dad. My dad is old school. He uses the words “bitches, crackers.” I’m like, “Dad. Charles just told me he was gay.”
My father was like, “Yeah, man.”
I was like, “Yeah.”
He’s like, “Yeah.”
This is where I know the world has changed. My dad was like, “Man, you know I ain’t with that shit. But the dude he dating is a good dude.” He validated the relationship! He said it like tough. He threw the towel in on it. “The dude he’s with, he’s a good dude. He’s a good nigga, man.”
MELISSA ETHERIDGE
I obviously had this underground lesbian following. Everybody knew. It was all “don’t ask, don’t tell,” though. I finally did an interview before my third album for a music magazine and I did my talk where I would use no pronouns, my partner, whatever. The writer changed all my pronouns to “my boyfriend” or “he.” I lost my mind and I said, I have to come out because now everyone’s going to think I’m lying and that’s the last thing I want to do.
So I decided I was going to come out. I didn’t know how. I thought I was going to do it on Arsenio Hall. In the meantime, I’m doing work, political work with a lot of gay and lesbian groups that helped get Bill Clinton elected. They have this inauguration ball and it’s the most fun because it’s all the gay people, of course. Rock and roll was back in the White House. We were there. And us gays were being gays and we were allowed to be part of the party.
So I came out at the inaugural ball there with everyone.
K.D. Lang had said some things and there were a couple of other people there. She had just come out a few months before that. She introduced me, “Melissa Etheridge,” and I walk up. “Yay!” And everyone’s screaming and hollering because it’s one thing that I’m even just there supporting them and then I’m like, “Oh, I just want to say, I’m just so proud to be a lesbian.”
Over.
It was like a match lit. Now you’re on a journey, here you go.
IDENTITY
“Everybody Has a Community”
Identity is complex. On some level it defines who we are, but the choices we make around the possibilities of that identity are our own. We identify ourselves by so many things: religion, career, economics, sexual orientation, and in countless other ways. And one of the most complex sources of identity is race. It is a racial identity that cannot be hidden and it will precede you in terms of others making personal and cultural judgments just on your appearance.
On June 19, 2015, Barack Obama, the forty-fourth president of the United States of America, came to my house to talk with me in my garage. It would be a little weird if I had a conversation with the nation’s first black president and we didn’t talk about race. So we did. And when we did, the president said a word, a racial slur. I won’t say it here. You’ll read the president saying it in this chapter.
As a comic, it wasn’t that jarring to me when he said it. He said it to make a point about the use of it. It was a broader statement about racism in our society, the progress we’ve made and the divisions that still exist.
The reaction from the news media was sadly predictable. Most outlets reduced the president’s point to a grabby headline, and the talking heads shouted over each other arguing whether it was appropriate for the president to say that word. It felt dismissive, and it spoke to President Obama’s larger point about why it’s difficult to have these conversations about race and identity and our differences.
That’s why I’m glad I can still have these conversations on my show. I’ve talked to many different people about different facets of identity and the struggles with identity that are very personal. I talked to Kumail Nanjiani about the culture clash he experienced as a Pakistani immigrant meeting his wife’s southern family. I talked to Laura Jane Grace about accepting her identity as a transgender woman and why that allowed her to finally understand herself.
And because I have always struggled with my own identity, I can listen and learn. I am white. I am a Jew. I am a comic. I have struggled with what all of those labels really mean. I identify as a Jew but I am not that Jewish in practice. So, what does it really mean? As I write this it is 6:00 A.M. I am sitting at JFK airport. The sun is rising outside and an Orthodox Jew is davening in the sitting area in front of me. Hooded by his tallith, with tefillin on his forehead and a prayer book in his hand, he rocks back and forth. No one is looking at him but me. I know, as a Jew, we share an identity. I know that if I wanted to, I could pursue my identity to the extreme he is pursuing his. I also know I would have to change my entire life and depth of my belief system to do that. Seems like a lot of work. I don’t mind watching him while I drink my Dunkin’ Donuts coffee wondering about it. I’m okay with my Jewishness. I’ll keep it light.
ZACH GALIFIANAKIS—COMEDIAN, WRITER, ACTOR
When my dad was younger, he and his brothers had restaurants. They opened up an all-black café in Durham, North Carolina, called the Lincoln Café. They all cooked and worked there. It was in a black neighborhood.
Growing up in the South, my dad’s side of the family, they’re dark. You know, they’re Greek. My uncle Mike told me that in the 1950s, in the summer, he would get really tan, dark eyes, dark skin. One day he sat in the front of the bus in Durham, North Carolina, and the bus driver stops and says, “Hey, boy, you have to sit in the back.”
My uncle says, “Why?”
The driver says, “Because you’re a Negro, you have to sit in the back of the bus.”
My uncle says, “I’m not black.”
And the bus driver says, “Well, what are you?”
My uncle says, “I’m Greek.”
And the bus driver says, “You can’t ride the bus.”
RUSSELL PETERS—COMEDIAN
I was just a kid, trying to blend in. In Canada, there was a lot of racism toward Indian people, and so it was brought to your attention very early that “this is what you are, and you shall not try and hang out with these people or these people. You should probably be quiet and shut the fuck up in that corner over there.”
AHMED AHMED—COMEDIAN, ACTOR
We used to get death threats during Iran-Contra. People would call our house and say, “Go back to your country, stupid whatever.” And we’d be like, “Dude, we’re Egyptian. If you’re going to be racist, get it right.”
MAZ JOBRANI—COMEDIAN, ACTOR
Growing up, there was no Middle Eastern good guys. You know, Omar Sharif, that’s forty to fifty years ago now. For my age group, I loved De Niro and Pacino and all the Italian guys because that was the closest to me. First of all, everybody loves those guys anyway, but furthermore, that was the closest I could get. I was like, “They kind of look like me,” you know? They’re these cool guys, that’s who I’m going to grasp onto.
KUMAIL NANJIANI—COMEDIAN, ACTOR
I was eighteen when I moved here. Most of my formative years were in Pakistan. I came alone. I was eighteen.
It was always the plan. I went to an English-speaking school because the plan was always to get me out of Pakistan. For good.
Marc
Why, because your parents sensed that it was not going well there?
> Kumail
The burning cars were a good hint.
I went to Iowa. I left Karachi, and I landed in Des Moines, Iowa. It’s very flat. I loved Iowa. It was great for me because if I’m going from Karachi to New York, nobody is going to give a shit about me, another Pakistani in New York. If you go to Iowa, there’s not that many people around. You can slowly get used to the cultural stuff. It’s a gateway to the States.
The weird thing was there was so much liberal white guilt that people didn’t want to acknowledge race at all. It was almost like people would go out of their way to not ask me about Pakistan.
JOE MANDE—COMEDIAN, WRITER, ACTOR
I was Jewish growing up. I went to Jewish summer camp and youth group stuff and never took that part of it seriously. When you drop a prayer book you’re supposed to kiss it. We would drop it on purpose just to make out with it. Going to second base with our prayer books. We were just terrible.
Then I had this experience a couple Passovers ago. I was doing the Passover thing to see if it meant anything to me. I ended up getting conned by this Israeli guy for like $400 when I had no money. The whole time he was like, “It’s a mitzvah, it’s a mitzvah.” I knew I was getting conned. It was crazy. This guy was awful.
I was waiting for a train, day two or three of Passover. I was following the rules, seeing if it meant anything.
Marc
Joe Mande’s search for meaning.
Joe
Right. I definitely found it. This guy came up to me. He looked like Michael Chiklis. Like a tan Michael Chiklis. He was like, “Excuse me, are you Jewish?” I feel bad, but I usually say no. But I said, “Yeah.” At first he just wanted to know if this was the train to Queens because he had to get to LaGuardia. Then he started telling me this weird story about how his wife and his child were at this house in Astoria and he was trying to get his shekels in order and it just made no sense. He was like, “Can you help me? It’s a mitzvah. I just need you to go to this bank and help me convert shekels into dollars because I don’t have a bank account in America.” I was like, “Okay, sure, whatever.”
Marc
Wow, this is a hustle designed for Jews.
Joe
Yeah, it was. It’s also the worst hustle. It got to the point where he started asking me about my girlfriend and if she’s Jewish. I said no and then he was like, “Better dump her.” I was like, “Who are you?” He’s like, “My grandparents didn’t die in the Holocaust for you to date a Christian girl.” The whole time, I’m like, “They didn’t. You’re clearly a liar.” He keeps nailing home that it’s a mitzvah, it’s a mitzvah I’m helping him, we’re Jewish, this whole thing. We get to the bank and I’m like, “Okay, give me your shekels.” He was like, “No, you misunderstand. I need money to turn into shekels.” I was like, “That’s the opposite of what you said.” He told me he needed $400, he did the conversion rate. He said this many shekels and was like, “It’s about $400.” At the time, also, I had a broken iPod and I was waiting to buy a new iPod.
I don’t know why I did this. I went and I got $400 out of my savings account and was about to hand it to the guy and then I was like, “Wait, I need your information.” Okay. First of all, he said his name was Israel. From Israel. And that he owned the biggest falafel stand in Jerusalem. He was the worst con man in the world.
I don’t know, to this day, I don’t know why I did this. I gave him the money and then he wrote on the deposit slip, it was all in Hebrew script, “Israel from Israel,” a phone number with like thirty digits, and he just walked away with all my money. I was just like, “I just gave that dude my iPod. That’s my iPod.” I don’t know why I did it. It bothers me so much. I was like, “Well, at least I got a story out of it.”
I told that story a few nights later onstage, and in the back of the room I hear someone just freak out. When I get offstage, it was Nick Kroll, and this same dude conned Nick Kroll out of like $250 on Purim. This guy knows how to find insecure twenty-three-year-old Jews going through some sort of spiritual crisis.
It’s a mitzvah.
What I did was when I handed him the money, I said, “I just want you to know if you don’t pay me back, I don’t believe in God, so you’re going to have to deal with that.” Like this is some Cameron Crowe movie. He was like, “Okay,” and then just skipped away. What does he care?
AL MADRIGAL—COMEDIAN, ACTOR
I get asked to do all these Latino comedy jams on a regular basis, and I’m just not that type of comic. You know the Russell Simmons’s Def Comedy Jam? They have the same thing for Mexican comics and it’s like, “You can come to our big local comedy slam and it’s two thousand dollars for twenty minutes each day.” I’m like, “Oh, that’s great, four thousand bucks for a weekend.”
I go to the gig and there’s two thousand Mexicans in this big cafeteria. My wife looks at me and she’s like, “Dude, you’ve got to get the fuck out of here.” She’s supportive like that. The guy before me was doing his entire act in Spanish and just killing. I walked up, I’m like, “What would a Latino Def Jam comedian do in this situation? What would Carlos Mencia do?” That’s one of the rare times you want to ask yourself that question. I go up and I’m like, “What’s up, everybody?!?!? Make some noise!!!!!” They all make some noise. This is like two thousand people. I go, “Where are all the black people at? Black people make some noise!!!!” Nothing. Not one black person there. I go, “All the white people make some noise.” Nothing. Just half of me is the only white guy there.
Then I said, “What’s up, Latinos?!?!?” Screams. Then I do it just by saying “fuckers” and “bro” constantly. That’s the code. Just say “fuckers” and “bro.” “What’s up, fuckers?” “Little fucking fuckers, fuckers, bro, bro, fuckers, fuckers.”
I go to the next gig and it’s Stockton, California, which is this meth shithole in the middle of nowhere. I go there and the same guy who’s doing his whole act in Spanish the night before and doing so well, he’s just destroyed. I go, “Hey, Reuben. What’s wrong? How was your set?” He’s crying a little bit. He says, “They threatened my life.”
I got to go up there and I can’t be this character that I’m not. I’m going to be myself. And that’s a bad idea. Never be yourself, try to be something better. Short story is I ended up hopping a fence while the black security guards laughed at me. That’s how that gig ended.
It was because I did this “paquito” thing. Want to know how you spot a half-Mexican? Overuse the word “paquito.” This guy stands up and screams, “He doesn’t speak Spanish!!!!!!!!” Like Mexican Braveheart. I really tried to keep it together, but he was violently flipping me off and leading people in boos against me. Then I finally said, “Look, you guys, this isn’t exactly a dream gig for me either. I’m stuck in Stockton, of all godforsaken places. The best part about it is I get to leave and you people are stuck here for the rest of your miserable fucking lives. I’m taking the money I’m being paid handsomely and I’m going to go blow it at outlet malls on the outskirts of a very shitty city like yours, so fuck off.”
That’s why I had to hop the fence.
MARGARET CHO—COMEDIAN, WRITER, ACTOR
I always do my mom in my act. It’s just Asianness, and the voice of whatever is ancient in me, that’s sort of questioning all the stuff that I do and what I’m doing. I’m really close to my parents, so something that’s always in my head are things that they say. It’s a celebration of the awkwardness of being an immigrant. I think that’s always going to be part of what I do and who I am.
ALI WONG—COMEDIAN, WRITER
My husband’s dad is Japanese. My dad’s Chinese. His mom’s Filipino. My mom’s Vietnamese. So we gave birth to Asia. All of it.
I speak conversational Vietnamese, but that’s because I went and did this program in college and after college to learn Vietnamese. It’s like the proficiency of maybe a second grader.
Marc
Which is probably kind of cute to some people.
Ali
Not to Vietnamese people. They’re like, “What the fuck is wrong with you? Just speak English.” I thought my mom would be excited. She’s like, “This is so exhausting trying to hear your long-ass, slow, boring sentences about what time is it, basic shit. Let’s talk about real shit in English, please.”
KUMAIL NANJIANI
My wife is from North Carolina. She is very southern. Way southern family. They’ve been around forever.
I told my mom that I was dating this girl. My mom obviously freaked out. There was a lot of crying and stuff. Then to her credit, my mom was very accepting of her when she realized that I really love this woman. It’s against my mom’s religion, and culturally everything is against it, and our family, I’m sure people were talking about it behind her back and to her face. It was really nice that ultimately my happiness is what was most important to her.
Marc
How did your wife’s family react to you?
Kumail
They were great. They called me Borat at first. I found out because we were going to a family reunion, and her uncle was like, “She said we can’t call you Borat.” I was like, “You guys were calling me Borat?” Emily had a serious talk with them and was like, “Don’t say this, don’t say this.” I actually think that was their way of trying to relate to me. Borat, which I think is even the wrong continent, right? Former U.S.S.R. I think they were trying to relate to me, and Borat was the closest they could get. I’ll take Borat over Bin Laden, I guess.
Marc
I think so. I think it’s a little more a term of endearment, but it is ignorant still. I don’t mean to be crass or insult your family, but to call you Borat, it’s cute, but it simplifies things.
Kumail