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Interview: Margaret Cho is comedy’s ‘Live & Livid’ blueprint

Photo Credit: Albert Sanchez

All things considered, it’s a miracle that Margaret Cho’s current comedy tour is called “Live & Livid” and not “Count on this C**t,” as she previously considered. It’s an even more impressive feat that Disney hired her for their forthcoming movie Prom Pact, given this information. But when you’re the pop culture blueprint for no fewer than three different communities, liberally using the c word suddenly becomes the least interesting thing about you.

As a queer Asian American woman, Cho has elbowed her way deeper into mainstream entertainment for 40 years, making space for performers with similar backgrounds by divulging gut-busting anecdotes nearly too ridiculous to be real. Her intimate struggles with body image and acceptance in the Korean community transform into intersectional comedy done the right way. Getting removed from a Korean spa, buck naked? That actually happened. Facing the gastrointestinal wrath of a persimmons-only diet? That happened in a car’s driver seat (that will likely never be the same). This Thursday night (April 13), guests at The Wilbur will be privy to new excerpts from Cho’s personal life that are just as amusing — and just as thought-provoking, too.

Ahead of this week’s Boston performance, Vanyaland spoke with Cho about defying stereotypes in TV and film, the mentees who have perfected her blueprint, and how she wants her funeral to go down. (Hint: It involves a good roast).

Victoria Wasylak: I feel like you have made the biggest power move of your career this year. 

Margaret Cho: Oh?

Yeah. There are so many people out there who will argue that if a comedian or a performer has to be vulgar or explicit in their work to get people to laugh, they “can’t be that talented” because they’re using it as a crutch. And here you come in and you’re in a goddamn Disney movie this year. I don’t know a better way to show your range. Could you have seen that coming in a million years? 

Thank you. I’m excited too, I love it. And I love the movie. It’s so beautiful and it’s really a good lesson about really living a balanced life. I love the stars — they’re just such great kids and they’re such great actors, and so it was really special to work on it.

You got your role in Fire Island because you asked for it. I know you’ve spoken in the past about — at least, 20 years ago — being offered lots of film roles, but they were at best pigeonholing you, and at worst, probably insulting. You’ve talked about, “I don’t wanna be portrayed with a chicken under my arm, or as a liquor store owner who’s yelling.” How many of these roles did you have to ask for, or go out and make for yourself to avoid that happening?

I think a lot. I mean, really going into standup comedy was, in a way, a kind of a reaction to that — although I always love doing standup comedy anyway, and it’s something that I’ll always do. There was a need to really look to other forms of performance other than just film and television because there was just no roles for Asian people for years. Of course there were, [but they] were so few and far between. I just couldn’t fit anywhere. I couldn’t do martial arts. I just couldn’t do any of the things that were sort of required for Asian people at the time, the ’80s and ’90s and on, you know? Now, of course, there’s so much more. I still think there needs to be more, but there’s still a great awareness now of Asian American stories that are getting told in movies and TV. So that’s really profound to see a change.

The fact that you had to put in that extra legwork to either ask for roles or make the roles — I would understand if you felt a little pissed off about that.

Yeah, but that’s always the way it’s always been. It’s like, you almost are conditioned to the invisibility unless you make the effort to force yourself into the frame. Which I think for me, it gave me a lot of gratitude for the job itself, and taking all of that really seriously.

It reminds me of something you said on one of your albums, which is “silence equals non-existence,” and that [perspective] is part of your revolution. Because if you don’t say these things, it’s like you were never there to begin with. That album is 20 years old at this point!

These messages are really eternal. That’s why I love neopronouns, because you’re really carving out a space for yourself in society using a language. That’s really important. I think that’s why “the right” really fight against it. They proclaim their pronouns are “patriot” or “USA,” which is like, why are you trying to minimize the fact that these people are trying to actually identify themselves in society, when we can actually identify who we are? Language is really vital to that coming into visibility and power. It’s a very important discussion point. The erasure that certain conservatives are trying to apply there — it’s really sinister.

What does your revolution look like now? Is it the same? Has it morphed 20 years later?

I think it’s the same, but it’s also really become a lot more urgent. There’s now this urgency to protect trans lives, to protect trans kids, to protect drag queens. These ideas of who we are as a culture, it’s sort of getting nitpicked and picked apart. Even the idea of gender — I don’t know why they [certain conservatives] think gender is somehow these absolute things. These are just costumes that we put on to playact society. They really have no meaning outside of preferences in style and preferences in identity. But to attack that as some form of a moral failing is really a huge problem and a huge detriment to society itself, and freedom and equality.

People forget we made those things up.

Yeah! It’s all made up! It’s all costume. It’s all playacting. Everything about gender is just a preference of whether you like fabric in certain places or not. It’s a weird thing to hang society on, or the quality of our society on, or the safety of our society on. You know, we need to get rid of guns first. Guns are actually really detrimental, not who’s wearing what.

It’s refreshing to see folks like you stay up to speed, when many comedians who decades ago were pushing the envelope in the right direction are now pushing it in the wrong direction. Why do you think that happens?

I think it’s just age. Sometimes when you get older you’re sort of unwilling to learn, which I’m always apt to do. I really embrace gaming, and I love like TikTok, and I love technology and where we are there [in tech]. I learn a lot politically from TikTok and from social media in general, solely from young people who are really just making such great strides because they grew up with so much technology and so much understanding of intersectionality and what’s happening. I’m really excited to learn. I think a lot of comedians don’t want to, and that’s their choice, but I think it’s a shame.

A lot of people would agree. You look at certain people and say, “Gosh, you were an inspiration to me and what you were doing for people like me 20 years ago, but now you’re dragging a different group of people down the drain. What are you doing?” 

I know, yeah. And it’s disappointing because it’s like, what happened to these heroes? It’s sad actually. I think it’s either you change or die. And I don’t wanna die.

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It makes something like your Live & Livid tour even more important. I really enjoy that name because emotions that seem like they might be opposites are often actually right next to each other — the way that love can become hate so fast, and vice versa. I think that comedy and anger have the same relationship. They weirdly go hand in hand. Would you agree with that?

Absolutely. I think it’s very visceral. Laughter is all visceral. It’s all about the body, and laughter is that sort of uncontrollable response to an idea. Laughing is very linked to anger because rage is also an uncontrollable reaction that’s physical. It’s interesting. They’re very much the same.

You have made bits out of very serious situations that have happened to you. I’m thinking about this diet you were on, where you were nothing but eating persimmons and you shit yourself as a result. And the time that you were talking about how you took a prescription painkiller, were sick, and then saw it was still intact, so you took it again. You managed to make these situations funny. How often do you type something up, look at it, and go, “You know what? No, that’s too much even for me.” Does that ever happen?

I don’t think so. I think the closer that you can get to something that’s really alive for you, the emotions in it are really alive, or you learn something about yourself, I think that’s really vital to share. Something that has the most “juice” or whatever that is, I think has the most currency and honesty. So that helps me decide what to do. And then if it seems like too much, there’s also ways to use language to your benefit. That’s kind of where the skill comes in, is when you take this sting out of things. And if it’s self-revelatory, I don’t think that there is a sting, really. It’s really just self-incriminating, but you wanna do it in a way that you’re still able to be heroic, even if you’re on the losing side of that particular story.

In everything you’ve talked about — like the things I just mentioned — you have this very unflappable attitude. You portray that you really just do not give a damn what people think. I know that wasn’t always true. I’m grateful for how open you’ve been with talking about when you were younger, trying to fit into this impossible mold for body image and eating disorders. When did that change for you? When you were able to turn on a switch and say “I just don’t care anymore?”

I think that also comes with age. I’m not exactly sure when the timetable would be. You just get tired of it, and then you’re like, “I’ve spent so much of my life worried about this thing that has never been satisfying.” And then like, “How much have I internalized a societal ideal, as opposed to what I really want in life?” Trying to fit into what society would idealize, it’s become so meaningless. And then it’s a waste. I also think, “Well, why do I have to be in this certain body type? In order to do what, exactly?” And then you have all these questions that I’d really rather not engage with that anymore, because I want other things from life.

Your focus is better spent elsewhere, but it takes a lot of time to fully accept that.

Yes. It takes a lot. For me it’s been therapy and a lot of time spent working on mental health. That’s really important, and it’s still a big daily practice for me to deal with.

You’ve said Joan Rivers was your comedy mother and Robin Williams was your comedy father, and now you are in the position where you are the mother figure to other people. What does that role reversal feel like? It’s kind of like those moments when you’re in a tricky situation and you think to yourself, “Oh, I need to find an adult.” And then you realize you are the adult.

It’s great. Well, I think it took a while. But now there’s so many wonderful Asian American comedians, and queer Asian American comedians in particular, who are really just so great, like Joel Kim Booster and Bowen Yang and these guys who are just changing everything and doing so well. They look to me as an inspiration, which I think is so incredible. But I think when I noticed it, was watching Ali Wong’s first comedy special. It was so amazing because I had not seen another Asian American woman do a comedy special — ever. I had already been doing it like 30 years and it was just so incredible to see her and to see her rise. It’s just a powerful thing. I’m so proud of that. I think that’s my greatest achievement, is to inspire this young generation to “do themselves” and do it so well. It’s so beautiful.

It’s funny you mentioned Ali Wong in particular because when I listen to her, I can hear a similarity in the way that you both deliver your stories and your jokes. I don’t know if you hear it too.

Yeah. It’s crass and succinct, and it’s astute but profound. When we can have these crass truths that are just so on point that it’s undeniable, that, to me, is really her genius. And I think that’s what I’ve always tried to do. I think I’ve created the blueprint and she perfected it. I think that’s what it is. [laughs]

What do you think you still learn from the people who you mentor?

Everything. Also the way that we can approach change, the way that we can approach looking at jokes and looking at the DNA of “why is this actually appropriate? Why is this appropriate to me and why is this going to make sense to me? How does this look, and how does this sound?” There’s so many different reasons now. We have more ideas about identity and wanting to look towards intersectionality as being the future of how we look to entertainment. And how can we really be better, do better? That’s what I’m always learning from younger people.

When your mentor Joan Rivers died, you poked fun at her in one of your specials. What do you hope people poke fun about you when you pass on someday? 

You know, I hope I get roasted at my funeral so that I won’t even need a cremation. [laughs] I think it’s just that I was really there in the beginning and then stuck around — “the thing that wouldn’t go away.” That would be like the best kind of thing, the resilience. That’s the most magnificent part. And it’s also the most annoying thing! “She just won’t leave!”

MARGARET CHO’S LIVE & LIVID TOUR :: Thursday, April 13 at The Wilbur Theatre, 246 Tremont St., Boston, MA :: 6:30 p.m., $30 to $50 :: Event Page :: Advance Tickets