Man, I Understand: The "Charisma Coffin"

 January 2, 2023

"I can't tell the truth unless I put a punchline on it." 

- Dave Chappelle

"Tact is the ability to tell people to go to hell in such a way that they look forward to the trip." 

- Winston Churchill

    Comedic spin is how I learned to cope with trauma. In many ways, I was raised by the greatest comedians in human history - Pryor, Foxx, Dolemite, Murphy, Carlin, Lopez, Rock, Hart, Sommore, Harvey, Hughley, and my personal GOAT - Dave Chappelle. As a child(who was definitely too young to be watching blue comedy, but to be fair, I snuck and watched), I was enamored by their ability to use comedy as a vehicle to shed light on taboo topics, bring levity to tragedy, and most impactfully - unite people over divisive realities. I have a pretty photographic memory, so I remember jokes, quotes, and moments pretty easily, so I could always recite jokes and important quotes on command. 

    Chris Rock once said(of a true racial equality), "I just want to live in a society where black people can grow to be as mediocre as white people." I saw Dave Chappelle in Asheville, NC back in 2019 and vividly recall his accurate, though unpopular critique of the lack of intersectionality and racial justice within the "Me Too" Movement when he said, "They thought they had the weapon; they didn't realize they were the weapon." That Chappelle quote sticks with me because it most applies to my own life now. My comedic charisma and ability to convey hard truths with charm have become a liberating career path professionally; personally it can be a cruel prison with chuckling bars.

    I also grew up in a family FULL of uncles, aunts, and cousins who absolutely missed their calling in stand-up comedy. Some of the best jokes and punchlines(that I can't repeat 'round church) were originated in my family. Comedy was the prism through which Black Americans could dialogue racism, sexism, police brutality, romance, sex, raising children, difficult family dynamics, childhood trauma, marriages, divorces, and even death. It also became the way my family coped with our own trauma; making everything into a joke may not be a great way to heal, but it's how you learn to deal. I remember falling in sincere love with comedy as a medium, a message, and eventually - a mask.

    My career in education has required me to advocate for access and equity issues in higher education, college admissions, K-12 education, and more recently the formal area know as Diversity, Equity, Inclusion, and Belonging(DEIB). I've been working professionally since I was 22 but I've been unapologetically black my entire life. Before the conversation around these issues got so gentrified, I was simply trying to convey challenging societal truths the way I'd heard my personal heroes covey them since I was a kid:

1. With boldness.

2. An eye for irony.

3. An acuity for the crux of the issue.

4. A new term for the phenomenon(so that people can have common language).

5. A punchline that helps people remember what they'd heard and do what you've said.

It's no surprise that I've been able to carve out a career path by doing this and admittedly, from the outside, it's hard to complain about. I get to work from home or on the road at my leisure - sort of like a stand-up comedian. The issue is that I never intended to be funny, comedic, or palatable - I just wanted to tell the truth about tragedy, but society can't handle that - so we wear the mask.

Comedy is one kind of "social softening" that has happened to Black men throughout world history. Go back to the eunuch protecting the royal treasures in ancient Egypt or the house Negro during slavery, or the ways in which Little Richard, James Brown, and countless other Black entertainers had to soften their appearance in order to play in front of white audiences(to assure white men that their women were safe). 

At 5'7 and 230lbs I'd LOVE to tell the truth with no punchlines, but history has taught me that you might:

1. Call the police.

2. Call my last employer or my next employer.

3. NOT call me for the interview.

4. NOT call me for the promotion.

5. NOT pay me.

I refer to it as the "Charisma Coffin". It's the way I stay professionally viable and personally protected. It SUCKS and it's EXHAUSTING. By the time I speak in a room socially or professionally, I've damn-near prepared a dissertation in my head:

-What cultural references will they connect with? 

-What temperature do they take their truth with? 

-How much of myself do I disclose this time? 

- How will I open? How will I close? Did I stick the landing?

I'm not alone in this experience; many men, just like me suffer in the same living coffin. We'd prefer to tell you the hard truths(personally and professionally) without fear that your fear might ruin us. 

Entertaining you is killing us. Softening ourselves because you're hard of hearing is killing us. Shrinking down to your size is killing us.

To My Brothers - if you're feeling this way, Man, I Understand! 

Share this with someone who needs to read it. Tell them I said they'd love the punch lines.

Sincerely Present, 

L.A.