Guest Post: Candice Thompson on Frizzy Hair, Big Lips, and Navigating a Career in Comedy as a Biracial Woman

Guest Post by Candice Thompson

Three things happened when I was eight years old. I figured out that I was different than most of my friends and family, I knew I wanted to marry Joey from New Kids on the Block, and I was offered my first stand up gig at Villa Berulia, an Italian restaurant in New York City.

Comedy has always played a role in my life. It started pretty early. I remember my parents letting me stay up past my bedtime to watch Johnny Carson and being enamored by the comedians he had on as guests. I would memorize their sets. My mom never cracked a smile when the actual comedians told their jokes, but when I recited them back she would have tears in her eyes from laughter. I used to think, “Wow, I’m funny,” not realizing how serious joke theft is in the comedy community. But I guess you could just add that to the list of adolescent crimes I committed along with sneaking into the movies and stealing a unitard from a Lazarus department store. It still fits. I regret nothing.

But watching late night wasn’t the first time I started to explore comedy. I think it was just the first time I became a fan of stand up. I didn’t realize it at the time, but comedy became my best friend when I was really young…like pigtails, lunch box young. Probably because I never felt like I fit in anywhere.

I come from a mixed family. Both of my parents are African-American, Native American, and I suspect there is some caucasian in there too. I’ve never met a white person in my family but I’m sure it’s safe to assume by my pallid complexion that there’s got to be at least one in there somewhere.

My parents are not one hundred percent sure what they’re mixed with either which is ridiculous and also the reason why my sister and I got them a gift card to one of those ancestry websites. It’s probably a good idea to find out what we are before Trump tries to have us deported. Needless to say, I was confused growing up. But who wouldn’t be when their mom is in the kitchen cooking pigs feet with fatback while listening to Michael Bolton.

I had frizzy hair, big lips and I just looked different. That’s the only way I can describe it. Black kids couldn’t tell if I was black and white kids couldn’t tell if I was white. What I could tell was that I felt left out on most occasions, even with my family. So, I spent a lot of time by myself because when I was by myself I didn’t have to feel weird or different. I found comfort in being alone.

But when I did have to be social, I found that when I was uncomfortable I could overcome that tension by saying something funny. I learned that when you say something funny it distracts people from focusing on the things with which you believe they’re preoccupied. It’s also an escape from feeling left out. When you have a classroom laughing at something you said, in that moment you feel accepted and liked. How I felt just minutes ago or a week ago no longer mattered. Jokes became a defense mechanism.

We all have our protective gear. Some kids chose bullying, others chose being “cool.” I chose punchlines. Although, I never had to study jokes. They just kind of came out of me. Which makes me feel like I was born to do this.

My parents took it surprisingly well when I told them I didn’t want to use the degree that I spent the last four years of my life trying to obtain. Which, is great, but also annoying. I sometimes think that if they had been more disapproving of my career choice it would have pushed me to work a thousand times harder and I would have my own comedy empire by now. But no, they were as supportive as they come and I will never forgive them for that. I moved to LA after saving up some money. I didn’t know much, but I knew that I didn’t want to live in my Passat. My first couple of years in LA were pretty much spent getting acclimated, or a fancy way of saying “being lazy and unproductive.” I worked a regular 9–5 job, made friends, tried to date, and found out Hollywood is not what people from cities across the country believe it to be.

My first studio apartment was exactly two blocks from the affluent lifestyle I desired and exactly two blocks from the destitute lifestyle every artist fears. I figured that if I could manage to stay somewhere in the middle, I’d be fine. So, that was my goal. I would work during the day to pay rent and use my nights letting out all the things I wasn’t allowed to say at my job.

I started going to open mics and I remember getting decent responses. My first joke was an Aaron Neville impression. I’ve always been fascinated by his burly stature, melodic vibrato, and those denim tank tops. The stage never felt foreign to me, probably because I had felt uncomfortable most of my life. So, being in a situation that might make others feel awkward actually felt normal to me. I started realizing that I was more comfortable on stage than during conversations with people.

I’m pretty sure it was the lack of acceptance that I felt growing up that gave me the thicker skin you need to survive this industry. Doing stand up also taught me how to laugh at myself. When I was younger I didn’t know how to do that, but it’s key to not only being an honest comedian but also in maintaining your sanity. I believe the difference was, at least for me, simply growing up and seeing that not everything was about me and my feelings.

When I moved to LA survival mode kicked in and I became an adult with real issues. Small things like “eating” took priority over how people perceived me. I started using my story as the foundation for some of my jokes instead of using it to define me. I have a joke about how I wanted a white person to call me a racial epithet just for some validation that I am black. It’s definitely a darker, more edgy joke that some people still cringe at, but to me, that’s why comedy is necessary. It can start a conversation about topics at which people are programmed to cringe. All of a sudden something that was “taboo” is now a topic of discussion, which is never a bad thing.

What’s funny is that as an adult, I still encounter the same experiences and feelings I had growing up. Although, they do may manifest themselves differently. No, I don’t get my hair pulled by black girls who are darker than me anymore, but I still feel the tug in the form of comments like “Oh, Candice, for a second, I thought you were a white girl…,” which minimizes if not dismisses the struggles I’ve seen as a black woman.

I feel it when I perform in predominately black rooms; that feeling of not being black enough to fully connect and having to fight harder to win them over. It takes black rooms longer to warm up to me than mainstream rooms. Black rooms tend to have more of a “prove you’re funny” energy in general, but it can be more intimidating to someone who not only looks different but also has a different style of comedy. I’ve noticed that when I tell bits about me being black in black rooms the goal is to get them on my side whereas in mainstream rooms, I tell them just so they stop pondering why this Italian chick is talking like that.

People always have a need to put you in a “box” because for some reason they think it makes you more palatable and easier to label. But, if you’re like me, a person who has had countless life experiences, both traumatic and amazing, there’s no box big enough nor label long enough. What I hope to accomplish through my stand up and future projects is to help narrow the divides that not only separate different races but the ones that exist within race — the lesser known divides that make people feel inadequate and inferior even amongst their own culture. It was those wounds that brought me into comedy, and I feel it’s only right to use my comedy to help heal them for others

Candice Thompson has taken the stage on “The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon.” The YouTube clip of her set has racked up 145k+ views. Named one of RIOT LA Festival’s “Comics to Watch” in 2016, Thompson appeared as a finalist in NBC’s StandUp for Diversity competition, and has served as a correspondent for “The Comment Section” for E! News, and was a featured comic in Comedy Central’s “Road to Roast Battle” in 2016. She’s currently writing for an upcoming TruTV show, titled “Smart, Funny, and Black.” The show is described as a comedic, social commentary game show, where she has a lot to say about the plight of black women both in comedy and in history.