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But seriously... I’m aware of this tension. Early on I had to experiment with different ways of getting the audience to relax so they could listen, laugh, and enjoy the ride. When I’m about to take my passengers on a delightful sightseeing trip through the minefield of race relations in Canada, I try to ease them into the drive. So I start with “Runs-Like-a-Girl.” (Hope the ladies aren’t offended!) It sends up a smoke signal that says this isn’t going to be a heavy lecture. I can laugh at myself. And we can laugh together, and at one another. [...]
There’s an old rule in stand-up comedy that you need to address immediately anything that’s obvious about yourself. If you’re really fat, talk about it right off the top. If you’re really tall, talk about it right off the top. If you’re a dwarf in an iron lung... maybe stand-up is not for you. But if you do it, talk about it right off the top. Because that’s what the audience is looking at and thinking about. If you don’t deal with it you’re running uphill. It’s distracting from your material. They’re too busy marvelling at how tall/fat/elfin you are to listen to your pithy observations about airplane food and television commercials. So for me, it’s a little trickier. I let them know I’m Native Canadian, then I have to deal with the obvious: that I don’t look Native. [...]
Who knows—the “look” thing may even do some good in a small way. Maybe it challenges the audience’s preconceived notions about Native people. Maybe they’ll realize that not all First Nations people fit their frame of reference. First of all, there’s my physical look. No leather, feathers, braids, or beads. Second, they see me in an environment where we’re all laughing. How often do they see Indians in that kind of situation? A lot of Canadians see us only in formal settings (a lecture or conference) or, shall we say, less formal situations (loitering on Main Street). Or, on the evening news, with some irate Indian politician reciting a litany of lamentations. It’s good to break the mould. It expands people’s ideas about what and who and where and how is an Indian. A little public education helps. And it’s sorely needed in this country.
The best thing about comedy—and the best thing about being a Native comic—is that you get to sneak in some points, maybe even make a statement or two. [...]
Excerpt from the essay “And Now, Ladies and Gentlemen, Get Ready for Some (Ab)Original Stand-up Comedy,” © 2005 by Don Kelly, from the book Me Funny, edited by Drew Hayden Taylor, published 2005 by Douglas & McIntyre: an imprint of D&M Publishers Inc. Reprinted with permission from the publisher. Audio recording for “And Now Ladies and Gentlemen…” performed by Don Kelly © 2011 Don Kelly, used with permission.
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Native comedy can be touchy for non-Aboriginal people. In these days of political correctness, even the pure of heart and well-intentioned can find it conflicting. “If I laugh at that joke, am I laughing at Native people? If I laugh at that stereotype, am I admitting that it’s true? If I don’t laugh, am I offending the poor Indian on stage? If he’s making fun of himself, can I laugh? Or should I take the high road and...” At this point said individual’s head usually explodes, which distracts from the show and forces me to end my set early.
