With Akaash Singh
Growing up in Texas is as good as it gets. People everywhere are courteous. You got football and friends on Friday nights. There’s church, the Cowboys and ridiculously large family lunches on Sundays. There’s eight lane super highways and all sorts of suburban space to keep you comfortable.
But what happens if you’ve grown up in Texas your whole life and then 9/11 happens but your skin color happens to be brown? What happens when you decide to leave your comfortable life in Texas to pursue the absurd life of comedy in Los Angeles and New York? But then, what’s it like to try and come back home?
These are the questions and so much more that we were lucky enough to ask a man who knows the answers all too well. Meet Akaash Singh — successful stand-up comic, MTV personality, Netflix star and weekly podcaster of American Desis. So while he was back home with his family in Dallas, Texas, we caught up to hear what he had to say.
Yo, thanks again for doing this. It’s super important to me and means a lot.
Of course man, thanks for being so patient with me.
First question, what was your favorite Saturday morning cartoon or TV show?
I don’t know if there was a particular one on Saturday morning. I used to love Looney Tunes. Bugs Bunny. I love Bugs Bunny cartoons to this day.
Did you get into TNBC?
Was that cartoons?
No that was Saved by the Bell…
Loved Saved by the Bell. I would watch a lot of TV. Basically the least objectionable program, I’d sit down and watch.
Who was cooler to you, Zach Morris or the Fresh Prince of Bel-Air?
The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air was cooler but Zach Morris was super cool.
Who are your sports heroes?
You know what’s funny, I hated Michael Jordan at the time. My older brother hated Michael Jordan so I followed what he did. Oh, Reggie Miller I loved…
Oh, fuck you! I hate that guy.
He was incredible. 8 points in 8 seconds.
That almost made me cry.
After 8 points in 8 seconds, that was when I was like, ‘Oh I’m a basketball fan.’
Growing up in school, were you bullied or a bully?
There was the one kid I picked on. I actually messaged him on Facebook to apologize for being mean to him. But for the most part if anything happened, I got bullied. It wasn’t like horrendous. After 9/11 it got a little worse. But before that, it wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t shoved in a locker or anything like that.
But did it affect you? Did it hurt?
Oh sure. I mean, I do have that chip on my shoulder that I wanna do better than all of them and all that, but I’m trying not to be so bitter these days.
What was your most memorable high school event? Dance, game, competition?
I don’t think I did any of that stuff. I never went to a high school football game. I never went to a dance. Prom, on my prom day, all my friends and I played basketball. I do remember in one class, ‘Teen Leadership’ we had to make a final exam speech about what we learned. My speech was that the class was useless and impractical and I didn’t learn anything. The kids in my class went nuts.
Do you remember the entirety of 9/11?
I was a junior or senior [in high school]. I had a two hour break, and I’m listening to the Ticket, which is my favorite radio station. One of the guys says a plane has crashed into the World Trade Center. I thought it was like a joke. Then when the second plane hit, then it was like, ‘oh this is real.’
I do remember at some point that day, sitting in my next class and it dawned on me. I don’t know if someone said Afghanistan or just me making the connection, and thinking, ‘this could get real bad for me.’ Then I remember there were these two Mexican kids, before anyone knew who had done it, had any theories at all, they grabbed me and jokingly — I was friends with one of them — they put my arms behind my back, and were like ‘we got him. Guys, we got him.’ And they walked me down the halls. But it took everyone a couple of days for people to be really racist towards me. Maybe a day.
It didn’t hit me that first day. I was feeling super patriotic that day. I thought ‘America, America.’ It took a few days to resonate before I was like, ‘oh…’
I do remember my brother’s friend got this giant American flag and we put it out in front of the house. Obnoxiously big.
Was your reaction to 9/11 different than your parents? Because of the generational gap?
I’ve said this before. I even think you might have tweeted at this particular podcast. My mom never talked about racism being a thing. That was never a thought in my house. I used to think, ‘am I the only going through this?’ So our views were pretty much across the board patriotic. Not vulnerable. I don’t know, it was weird to think that my mom never brought it up ever.
Real talk, does that upset you? Or did it make you feel confused?
That she never talked about it?
Yeah because in Texas, especially after 9/11, that racism was real?
I think at the time yes, but now I really admire it. I think there was a time it bothered me. But now I think it’s dope. The idea that that’s not an excuse for anything. At least that’s how I took it.
Is there a specific memory from the 9/11 time period that you can’t shake?
I remember driving to St. Louis with my white best friend. He’s driving. He doesn’t have his insurance on him. He’s not wearing his prescription eye-wear. He’s speeding. He was driving barefoot, which may or may not be against the law, I don’t know. But he’s speeding and we get pulled over. The cops get my friend out of the car. Then the cop comes and gets me and questions me about having drugs. We’re in Coyle, Oklahoma. And I remember being like, ‘I know what this is. I know what this is. There’s no reason to talk to me at all.’ I’m just this innocent looking — I look like I was 15 or 16 — not dressed in any way remotely suspicious.
That was the memory. I was a 19 year old kid. That was the moment when I was like, ‘oh, you are always different. No matter what you do, white people will always see you as different. Because you are.’
But to me, it was good for me, cause then it made me realize I’m different and I need to embrace where I’m from.
Expand on that.
I think it’s important for minorities to know. If we go through our whole lives and don’t have reminders that we’re different, it creates a real identity problem. So for me to go through that, it was good. We can do all these things to assimilate into their culture but you’re never going to be that. It’s not their fault. It’s not malicious. You just look different. From the outset, we’re different. That’s what it is. Might as well embrace what makes you different. Instead of being ashamed of it, which I was for a long time.
What do you mean you were ashamed for a long time?
I was much more whitewashed. Like I would make jokes about my own race. Not really my religion. I was just much more whitewashed and not proud.
What was the catalyst that changed that?
It’s weird. I started hanging out with these black kids who were twins at my college. They were super militant, but the militant dudes who somehow never dated black women. Anyway, one of them dated an Indian girl for a while, and one time we were all hanging out with her white friends. And they said about her, ‘she’s not really Indian. She’s not REALLY Indian,’ and my black friends went nuts. They were like, ‘don’t let them do that to you. Don’t let them take who you are, your identity.’
And I realized I had let me people do that to me, and I shouldn’t. That was a small thing. Then that summer the cop thing happened and then I was like, ‘alright, I am always different. I am never them.’
Why comedy?
When I was in 11th grade Anatomy and Physiology, one of my friends in the class said ‘You’re not gonna be a doctor. You’re gonna be a stand up comedian, and I’m gonna be your manager and take 10% of whatever you make.’ I was intrigued, but never thought I could do it. Then he messaged me our Freshman year of college and said there was an open mic in Denton [Texas] and I needed to get material together. So I thought of my five minute set in the shower and I rehearsed it for my friends. I nervously put on these shows in our little dorm. Not the dorm, but our little dorm room with bunk-beds. And then I went and did it. And I remember there were moments when the audience was laughing so hard that I couldn’t say the next line because I memorized a script. I remember I was freaking out because, ‘oh my god the audience is laughing too hard I can’t say what I want to say next.’ But then another voice in the back of my mind was like, ‘yo! The audience is laughing so hard you can’t say what you want to say! This is the coolest thing that’s ever happened to you!’
What was it like the first time you bombed the fuck out of a joke on stage?
The second time I went up. It was the same place. Five months later I had a set. I just bombed miserably. Ten to twelve people even came to see me. They drove an hour to be there. Bombed it. Just brutal.
Follow up, what are you more afraid of, bombing a joke on stage or not making your family proud?
The latter.
Why?
I mean family is who you live with. Strangers are strangers.
You’ve done pretty well for yourself in the entertainment industry, so do you have certain people from back in school that you now want to say, ‘Fuck You’ to?
I mean, I don’t want to name names, but I remember their names. You know what I mean? I don’t want to come off too overtly petty, but I remember.
What is the motivation for the fuck you?
Two or three kids who picked on me a little bit in high school. A few of those people.
Also, here’s the thing. I’m not mad at people, but no one believed in me. But I also think you’re not supposed to believe in a person who wants to do this [stand-up]. You have to be a bit delusional to do this, so if anyone believed in me, I thought, ‘are you outta of your mind!’ So I don’t begrudge anybody for not believing in me but I always remember — no one ever really believed in me. Except for one person. My older brother, and to be honest, I think he’s a psychopath for believing in me. But I do remember that.
What do you honestly think your parents think about it all and what you’re doing?
So yeah before I did this, I didn’t do great my first two years of college. So I had this year to figure it out if I was going to med school. Do a [Medical] scribe program or whatever. I wasn’t really sure what to do. My best friend, a white kid, his name’s Peter, he was going to LA to be a cinematographer. And I was thinking I got this year off, I kinda want to do it, go out to LA with him and try to do comedy. See how I like it. ‘If I get famous in a year I’ll stay if not, I’ll come back,’ which is an insane thought. But I asked my mom and she said ‘go, cause I would rather you know even if you can’t do it than to want it for the rest of your life if you can.’ Once I got her blessing, I went.
Yo, your mom’s awesome.
She’s my hero. She’s amazing. In every single way, my hero.
That’s dope.
So I went out to LA and that was that. I don’t think they really believed in it at all, but when I got on TV, things began to shift. But there’s still some uncertainty with it.
Do you think your parents defend you in family conversations?
Around family friends for sure. My mom takes most of the grief, and that actually bothers me a lot. I think about that way more than the people from high school — in terms of giving her the opportunity to rub their face in it and have the, ‘fuck you.’
Do you have friends of the family that, no disrespect, but also the ‘fuck you’ conversation comes up?
Yeah, of course. If you wanna talk to me talk to me. That’s fine. But you gonna talk to my mom? C’mon.
When did you move to New York?
I went from Texas to LA for almost 2 years. Labor day 2006. Then I moved to New York, June 2008.
What was your worst day in New York?
I don’t know if there was one day. There was one show. Probably one of my worst shows ever. Got to be one of my biggest bombs ever.
I’d go to Harlem and do the urban circuit because that’s where you could get up really easily. And I was going through this painful transition — I wanted to go from being a comic who said these cute ‘jokes’ and crammed what I wanted to say into those jokes, and become a comic who was simply said what he felt and made that funny. It doesn’t sound like much, but that was a painful transition. So during that time I would constantly just bomb in these hood rooms. And one of them I said something suuuper unlikable at the beginning of the show and everybody just started standing up and booing. And I wasn’t good enough at comedy to win them back. I tried, but I just kept digging myself into a deeper and deeper hole. Louder and louder boos and louder and louder ‘get off the stage’ chants. And it was also a horrible setup. This show didn’t even have a stage. I was standing at a bar. Waitresses passing right in front of me. But like four minutes in I had to get pulled off the stage — which has actually happened to me a few times, because when I bomb on stage, it’s usually a massive bomb. But that was the worst one I’ve ever taken.
Did you cry that night or 5 minutes after, because I would’ve balled my face off?
Nah I didn’t cry that much then. I just remember believing this is unbelievable. And I was already thinking about leaving New York. So I went home [Dallas] for two months, worked at a restaurant, did shows in Dallas with much easier audiences. Was thinking about going back to LA cause I didn’t like it [New York]. And then I went back to New York to give it one more chance. I don’t know why I stuck around but I stuck around and I think it worked out and I became much more of the comic I wanted to be. As opposed to the comic I think I would’ve become in LA.
How has leaving Texas changed the way you visit Texas?
I don’t like Dallas anymore. They got real snobby on me. I don’t think it was like this before. Maybe it’s cause I grew up in the suburbs and you found your pockets of downriver people. But I don’t remember ‘Uptown’ and all this stuff where you’re trying really hard to be New York and LA but you’re still Dallas. It feels like Dallas is going through the same identity crisis I went through in high school and college. Stop trying to be something you’re not. No matter what, you are who you are. You’re Dallas. Not LA, not NY.
What place do you call home?
I don’t feel like anything’s home anymore. I was telling Arjun [Gupta], I don’t really feel at home in any city. It’s really weird. It’s very new to me. I always felt super at home in Dallas. Super comfortable. Super confident. Like I can’t describe it, but I felt so comfortable in Dallas. Now I don’t feel that way anymore.
What does that discomfort feel like?
Not discomfort, more of a disconnection. Where it’s like I don’t feel the same way in the city as I used to.
How did the [American Desis] podcast come about?
Arjun and I — you know sometimes how you have good chemistry with a friend? I remember the first time we hung out we actually didn’t really like each other. Not really like each other. He thought I was gay and I thought he was a douche-bag.
And then the second time we hung out, we talked for like three or four hours. But a real conversation. Like life philosophies. We talked about our views on the world. Then we started watching football games at this bar in Brooklyn. He’s a Bucs fan. I’m a Cowboys fan. Hard to catch our sports teams on TV. Then one of his friends heard us on the phone — on speakerphone — and he was like, ‘you guys have really good chemistry, you should do a podcast together.’ And so Arjun sends that to me and I thought about it awhile.
This is the thing, we’ve always talked about our identity [South-Asian] and our relationship with our identities. So we started doing interviews and and for the most part it’s just an interview show. Hopefully to give kids the thing I didn’t have growing up. Something to try and form the identity of South Asians in this country. We’re not arrogant enough to think we can do it. But we can chip in a little bit.
What do you think the podcast is accomplishing?
I don’t know. I think it’s giving people the space to listen. And we think it’s that important to have that space.
Arjun and I, talking like that for so long, interviewing so many different people, we’ve shifted each other’s perspective a little bit. I used to be openly and proudly black and white. Everything is black and white. And now through Arjun’s position, I’ve changed. And I think he sees the mindset I got from my mom, which is like we’re not here to complain about racism. We want to change things, so let’s change things. We are rich. We are powerful. We’re connected to our roots, relatively speaking. We’re 1st generation. We can make the change. I think he’s sort of adopted more of that mentality. We’ve helped each other grow in those certain ways.
Remoy Philip is an avid bowler, dreamer and low-block shot maker. He’s also a co-founder of Theo and editor of Rover where he works to inspire the world around him to always be creative. You can follow him on the official Theo Twitter at @whoistheodotcom and official Instagram at @whoistheodotcom.
