When I did my first low-stakes stand-up set freshman year of college, I had no idea it would be the reason I set out to pursue a career in comedy. Humor was always how I put myself out there. Since I was young, my Dad’s ability to charm any room with his humorous stories taught me that I could do the same. Going into college, I had originally intended to study journalism, thinking that it would satisfy my desire to write. Shortly after realizing that this was not true and that it was impossible to include a bit in an opinion piece, I settled into the comedic arts department. My time at Emerson has put me in conversation with some of the most brilliant comedians, but also the most insufferable cishet, white men. Sometimes it seems as if there is no in-between. I’ve always known pursuing any career as a Black woman would be difficult, as all the odds are stacked against me, but trying to make it as a comedian has introduced me to some of my darkest days.  

The harsh reality is that once you make it as a Black comedian, the audition is never over. In comedic spaces, Black women are treated as a satisfaction to the requirement. Take, for example, Saturday Night Live in its fortieth season back in 2014. Then cast member Jay Pharoah discussed the lack of diversity amongst his castmates, imploring the show’s producer, Lorne Michaels, to hire a Black woman. Soon after, SNL in its unpublicized yet highly-reported audition process, offered comedian Natasha Rothwell a spot in the writers’ room. In a recent interview, Rothwell reflected back on her time at Studio 8H, and while she’s careful to not diminish her time there, she shared how her experience with the series negatively impacted how she carried herself. And how couldn’t she? She had been advertised as a diversity hire, and sitting amongst white, male writers who had established the room to be theirs made her feel unseen. Looking back on this moment in SNL’s history made me realize that to be Black and a woman in comedy, unfortunately, means that to some, you are the punchline. 

But, thankfully, we are living in different times. Now, more than ever, Black people are given mediums to be unapologetically Black and entertaining. Just look at shows like Insecure, Issa Rae’s HBO comedy that looked at the lives of Black women in Los Angeles. The show wrapped on its fifth season this past December, and left a forceful legacy. It has ushered in a bevy of new shows about Black women: Run the World on Starz, Harlem set to premiere on Amazon Prime, and Abbott Elementary on Hulu. In the past, shows centered around the lives of Black people were focused on Black trauma, coming from white producers, which didn’t make them feel grounded in lived experiences. Jon Rineman, former Head Monologue Writer for The Tonight Show Starring Jimmy Fallon, now my professor here at Emerson College, shared with me that he noticed diversity in writers’ room improving, and that he was happy to be a part of those rooms, but with that said, why isn’t it translating in front of the camera? Today, these shows are just about Black people being Black. And they are proving successful. 

This same principle is where we can see Black comedy at its best. Richard Pryor, Kevin Hart, Leslie Jones, Bernie Mac, Tiffany Hadish, and even Dave Chappelle all possess the style of comedy where they lay bare the harsher realities of life for the Black community. This type of comedy has been with Black people for centuries, where humor was sometimes the only way to stay positive when living through years of brutal oppression and discrimination. So when today’s Black comedians stir up controversy, it puts us in between a rock and a hard place to lose one of very few. 

So, how do we expand the field so we no longer have to rely on a select few? Well, the answer is right before us. Emerson’s BFA degree in Comedic Arts is the first of its kind in the country. Our students have the ability to write, perform, produce, and study comedy. Beyond the classroom, our campus has sketch and improvisational troupes, as well as stand-up and  production organizations. Emerson should be sending the next generation of comedians of color into the world, but the issue? The Emerson comedic space is overwhelmingly white. 

Mercer Whitfield ‘23, president of Stroopwafel, one of our campus’s short-form improv troupes, weighed in on the lack of diversity in the space. Before this past semester, she was the only Black person in any of the active troupes, except for Flawed Comedy, which is an org for students of color. “So, it almost becomes a thing of ‘well, unless the org is specifically for people who look like me, then it’s not for me,’ which is not true,” she shared. She makes a compelling argument, pointing out that for the hefty price tag of attending this institution, students of color should be allowed in spaces and given every single opportunity to be in these spaces. And with that being said, this shouldn’t be exploited and used as an excuse to tokenize. She shares, “Students of color on this campus don’t want accommodations, we don’t want to be let in just because we’re brown or Black or students of color. We don’t want the little pity party, we don’t feel pity for ourselves. We want opportunities to be in these spaces.” 

The industry has a long way to go, and the fact of the matter is that most of us working towards it will not be able to see a truly diversified industry. Making people laugh is important for a myriad of reasons, the most minuscule reason being laughter is medicine. In the meantime, as it has for centuries, humor will be the light shone during dark times.