being poor is. Being offended, to me, is not that bad. I think being offended might teach you that you feel something or you’re pas- sionate about something. I grew up in a family where there were al- ready nine siblings. I didn’t have the luxury to be offended. I could be wrong, but I think censorship or the idea of being offended for me feels more like a rich thing than it does a poor thing. I was so comfortable living in a house with people who were so different. We had similarities and we had differences and we would fight like crazy. And then, at the end of the day, it would be lights out, we have to go to sleep. I didn’t have my own room to go to. I think if you’re a rich kid, you go to your room. I had to sleep with these people I really disagreed with. I got comfortable being uncomfortable and I think people who are comfortable in every facet of their lives—they’re not comfortable being uncomfortable. I’m fine to be uncom- fortable. Of course, I prefer being at the Ritz. I prefer a nice bed, but I’m totally com- fortable on the couch.
I never thought that God was mad at me. I just always felt God kind of liked me for whatever reason. I don’t think he was thrilled with all my decisions, but He maybe thought, Eh, what are you gonna do? My friends were really judgmental, but I never at any point thought that I was wrong. If there’s a God, I feel like He’s cool with me. I don’t believe that there’s a God necessar- ily, but I do believe there’s obviously some- thing, there’s greaterness than us. Whatever the powers- or energies-that-be are, I feel it as a protective layer. But I could be wrong, you know? I just think that if you step into it, it can be nice. If you don’t, that’s also cool. I got good at not listening to the noise as much, and maybe that’s why I do what I’m doing.
Do you consider yourself part of the lar- ger community of off-the-derekh people?
No. Nobody wants to be defined anymore. I’m kind of that way with communities. The trans community, the queer community, the Jewish community, the off-the-derekh com- munity. It’s fine if you want me in your com- munity. I wear glasses; there are the people with glasses. There’s a community for every- thing. I’m in and not in everything. I’m going to break the rules.
You can’t cancel your sibling.
My brother, he doesn’t love gay people. He calls me and he goes, They’ve got these agendas. I said, “You know I’m gay, right? You’re talking to a gay.” And he replies, “Well, not you. You’re my flesh and blood. I’d take a bullet for you.” What am I going to do, cut this guy off? He’s my brother. I love him, he loves me. There’s no cutting off in a poor family. He wouldn’t understand if I said, “Don’t call me.”
The identity thing is interesting to really wrap your head around.
People really want to claim you. I think I noticed it as you get bigger and bigger, as you do more and more, people start to want to claim you. I’m for everyone, but I really just belong to myself. You really lean into the Holocaust jokes in your comedy. What is it about the trans- gressive humor that appeals to you, that works for some people and really doesn’t work for others? I don’t know what it is. I think it’s a matter of taste. I happen to have an appetite for dark. I grew up in a house and on playgrounds where we said the hardest, meanest, worst things to each other in a fight—I developed a skin for it. But some people don’t have the taste, they didn’t develop that skin, they don’t need it, they don’t like it. There are a million reasons why it’s not somebody’s taste. I don’t mind if somebody’s offended by something; that’s their prerogative. I per- sonally don’t think being offended is the worst thing. I think being hungry is, I think
So how do you write something that is offensive but doesn’t get too offensive?
I don’t think of anything like that. I just think about what I think is funny. I’ve always been a bit of a troublemaker. In school, I was a troublemaker. I’ve always wanted to get a re- action of any kind. I think I was blessed with that. The first thing I heard from the first show I did is that I have a unique voice. I heard about my voice even before I knew about it. I think that is due to the fact that I sit in so many middles. I’m always the window look- ing out, whether I’m poor looking at the rich, whether I’m Canadian in America, whether I’m a girl with a boy-ish disposition. I’m always looking in, I’m always sitting on the fence. n
This interview has been edited and condensed.
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