The Last Black Unicorn(48)

They had me thinking it was gonna be so many people, but only thirty people showed up. And then, half of them were my ex-husband’s family members, so it was very embarrassing. And I don’t embarrass easily, obviously. His mom was there, and she was just staring me in the face. It was a horrible show.

Then I fell on the stage. It was bad. I was wearing these pants that looked like leather, but weren’t leather, and I was trying to do this physical joke, where I squat down, like a dance, and then pop back up. I squatted down, and when I popped back up, I slipped and fell, so then my little fake leather pants tore a hole on the knee.

I was trying to play it off like it wasn’t bothering me, and then, two minutes after I fell, I just kicked my shoes off. I just sat on the floor of the stage.

I just gave up. I just sat on the floor, and just talked from the floor, just finished my time from there. I think I had twenty-five minutes left. It was horrible.

No one laughed. People were rolling their eyes. Looking at me crazy. Nobody was laughing. It was not good.

Afterwards, my ex-husband came up to me:

Ex-Husband: “That set, you get a D on that set.”

Tiffany: “I give you an F on being a husband. So suck on that.”

I did a bad show at Howard (a black college) with Tony Rock as the headliner, and me as the featured act. It was like, four thousand black students.

I knew immediately this was going to be a problem. I had never seen this many black young people in one place, ever in my life. In one room, I’ve never seen it. I don’t know why that freaked me out, but it did.

I just tried to stick to my material, just do my material, and it was not hitting. I was too nervous and too scared and they were not feeling me at all. At first, it was real quiet, ’cause they tried to figure it out. I don’t even remember the first joke I hit ’em with, but it didn’t hit at all. That was horrible.

I did the punchline, and nobody laughed, and I just was looking like a deer in the headlights. This one dude from the audience spoke up.

Guy: “It’s all right, though, you fine. At least you look good.”

Tiffany: “You got that right. Some of y’all get a female comic, and she don’t be funny, and she be ugly, too. At least I ain’t ugly.”

And then one of the girls sitting next to him said in a real bitchy voice:

Girl: “Yeah, whateva.”

They were all on their phones, chilling there, giving attitude. That chick, she was just on her phone the whole time, just texting. She was sitting right in the front, so I could see her real good. If I saw her in the streets today, I would still know her right away.

I was supposed to get paid $2500 for that show, and when I came off the stage, they had already called my manager. My manager called me fifteen minutes after I got off the stage, and he was like:

Manager: “They’re only gonna give you $500 for this show. They said it was pretty bad.”

Tiffany: “Yeah, it was pretty bad. I’m cool with that.”

I started laughing. I sucked, and I still got $500 though. I might have been embarrassed in front of four thousand people, but I can pay my light bill, get groceries, gas money. I’m good.

This is how I know I REALLY sucked: there was an after-party, and the student that was in charge of activities, when we first got there before the show, he was like:

Student Host: “Yeah, you gotta come to the after-party. It’s gonna be so much fun. Tiffany, you definitely gotta be there. Everybody’s gonna be so excited to see you.”

And then, after the show, that dude came and talked to Tony Rock:

Student Host: “Yeah, so the party’s gonna be hype. We’re gonna pick you up from your hotel in about one hour. It’s gonna be great. We got bitches. We got booze. You gonna love it.”

And then he looked at me, rolled his eyes, and walked the fuck out of there.

Tony Rock: “Ooo, nigga.”

Tiffany: “What?”

Tony Rock: “Yep, your ass really was bad. You’re not invited to the party, Tiff.”

Tiffany: “He didn’t say I couldn’t come to the party.”

Tony Rock: “That look said you can’t go to the party.”

Tiffany: “Well, I don’t want to go to the stupid-ass college party anyway. I’m an adult.”

How about that shit—a twenty-year-old college dude didn’t want me at his party!

And then, this little fat girl brought the money in. She handed everyone their envelopes, and she looked like she did not want to give me my envelope. My little $500. She did not want to give it to me. I know I did bad that night, but I got my money, though.





The Politics of Comedy


At this point, I’m pretty well established in comedy and know most of the people and players. But man, it was not like this at the beginning. I’ve got so many stories about what it was like coming up as a black woman in comedy in LA. Where do I start?

Lemme start with this one comedian. We’ll call him “Fats.” I was volunteering at the youth center, and I ran into him there. He mentioned to me that he surfs.

Tiffany: “You surf? You don’t surf.”

In case you don’t know, Fats is fat as hell. Three hundred pounds, at least.

Fats: “Yes I do, I surf.”

Tiffany: “Wow. I bet you be looking like a sea lion out there in that wet suit and everything.”