My dad's from that generation like a lot of immigrants where he feels like if you come to this country, you pay this thing like the American dream tax: like you're going to endure some racism, and if it doesn't cost you your life, well hey, you lucked out. Pay it; there you go, Uncle Sam. I was born here, so I actually had the audacity of equality.
I like to have straight-up black coffee, but when you get it, sometimes you'll burn your tongue, or it spills on your hands, and you get third degree burns. I happen to be the kind of human being who doesn't want to sue coffee companies for money, so I just say, 'Hey, can you give me some coffee, but can you also give me like, eight ice cubes.'
To show that a comedian on stage in India talking about sanitation or in South Africa talking about HIV and AIDS awareness, if you follow the joke into their lives, you can see that, like, oh, these things aren't just contrived in joke books. This is real life. I think the best comedians have that bravery and courage to say, Oh, this is what it is.
The day-to-day microaggressions that we all face, yeah, you have to let some stuff slide, or you go, 'I gotta keep moving; there's bigger fish to fry.' It's something that I still deal with. But I've tried to have the audacity of equality and to follow my heart in those moments where I feel like something is wrong.
One thing I found very interesting about comedians around the world was their knowledge of stuff outside of their own culture and comfort zone. That's not very common in the States. We produce our own soft power, which is pop culture, but we rarely try to absorb and learn information from other cultures and countries.
If it's just me on stage telling stories for, like, an hour, that's great. That's fine. But like a sandcastle on the beach, it gets washed away at night. It's so much more powerful if we can all share our narratives and doorstep moments and make us feel a little less alone. I'm just trying to use social media and new media as a way to capture that.