On her show—first on YouTube, then on Instagram Live, and then moving to Showtime for two seasons—Ziwe was known for asking well-meaning white celebrities how many black friends they had. With a raised eyebrow or smirk, she deliberately leaned into the stupidity of the question, letting the wrong answers speak for themselves.
In a 2020 Instagram Live, chef Alison Roman, who has made controversial comments about Chrissy Teigen and Marie Kondo, responded to the question with a “four to five.” “That’s an interesting statistic,” Ziwe told the best-selling author, who added: “Of the total number of real friends I have who would pick me up at the airport, (which) probably between twelve and thirteen.” Without missing a beat, Ziwe responded, “Okay, do your black friends know that you treat them like objects?”
“It’s all a joke,” Ziwe says. In the summer of 2020, as the country reckoned with race, Ziwe’s comedic contribution to the discourse was both a welcome reprieve and a thoughtful examination of how race is discussed. Her faux seriousness: “You famously said you discovered racism in 2018. What did you do for the first 25 years of your life?” she once asked internet personality Caroline Calloway — it’s all part of the performance that took her from the writers’ rooms on “The Rundown with Robin Thede” and “Desus & Mero” to headlining her eponymous show. (It was canceled earlier this year.)
These days, when she’s not coincidentally hanging out with The Real Housewives or making her runway debut for Mugler, she’s gearing up for her comedy tour, which just kicked off in Seattle and has already sold out in six cities. She also has a new book of nonfiction essays, “Black Friend,” in which she explores the absurdity of several racist incidents she encountered (including being stopped by white neighbors while renting an Airbnb); talks about her vaunted interview technique (she told me it’s a “trap”); and reflects on the self-imposed boundaries she built to protect herself, passed down to her from her parents (“privacy is a Nigerian value,” she writes).
So, what’s behind the 31-year-old’s hyper-feminine, fuchsia-loving façade? This is what I learned from the heroine herself.
The following interview has been edited for length and clarity.
Question: You wrote: “Iconic is in the eye of the beholder.” What makes your book iconic?
So what to do You do you think this is significant?
(Note: I just heard “Zived?!”)
Question: When I write this, I will definitely explain what is so significant about it.
Answer: I like to lead with humor. I’m a comedian, so whenever we get into a serious topic, I start to stay silent because I just want to make a joke. I’m not a serious person.
Question: I interviewed another comedian in his 30s who wrote memoirs, and I wonder what’s going on that we’re writing memoirs at such a young age. Why did you write yours?
A: Well, I don’t consider my book of essays a memoir. And I also don’t identify as a 30-year-old, so I can’t answer that question.
(Note: Yes. Totally got “Ziwe’d.”)
Answer: I started these essays with very silly satires or historical research. As I read the book over and over again, I realized that there was a wall between me and my audience and that the only way to overcome it was to offer a little of myself.
Q: How do you make the serious topics you explore in your book lighthearted, like being racially profiled while walking in the woods or being mistaken for another black comedian?
A: That’s how I process traumatic situations – laugh at them. Whether it’s healthy or unhealthy, who’s to say? I also reflect my personal experience. It’s just that my personality makes me feel busier.
Q: You write about your “idea of womanhood,” the expectations your traditional Nigerian parents had of you, and the opinions of your critics. How do you define yourself?
A: I’m Ziwe. I embrace all the things I rejected as a child, as well as the things I was drawn to. I like Zelda as much as I like Barbie, and I’m an adult. As I grew and found my voice, I felt driven to want to be something I wasn’t. Over time, I realized that people hug me the most when I simply march to the beat of my own drum.
Q: I was stunned to learn that so many reporters asked you if your parents were proud of you. I don’t understand why this is relevant. Why was it important for you to mention this in your book?
Answer: I was interested in finding out why I was being asked this question. It’s not even an impossible question to answer. There’s really only one appropriate answer: yes. AND Yes, my parents are proud of me, but this is such a fatherly exam. I was very interested in this fixation. This is a reflection of the interviewer rather than the subject. We are contextualizing each other right now.
Question: Was there any particular essay that was more difficult to write than others?
Answer: “Discomfort” bears its namesake. (An essay about how her parents’ influence led to the creation of her pink-loving Barbie alter ego.) This was awkward to write. Even “Wikifeet” (in which she explores beauty standards and her growing fame, relinquishing her two-star rating on the celebrity foot fetish site). It started as a one-page essay asking people to rate my legs from “good” to “perfect” and then turned into me unpacking stories about my grandparents.
Question: When did you notice that there was a wall between you and your audience? Have you received information that people want to know more about you?
Answer: In “All About Love” by bell hooks, she does use a personal anecdote to build theory and contextualize her statements. I read it and (thought), “Wow, this is something I can’t understand and what I’m missing.” Sending (the draft) to my colleagues and them saying, “Okay, I think you can probably go deeper here,” that was part of my (writing) process.
Question: What do you want readers to take away from your book?
A: I want them to laugh at me and with me. But it depends on the essay. All I can do is provide comedic observations about a reality that is quite grim. That’s why I want them to laugh.
Question: Your fans really appreciated your work in updating the format of the late-night talk show. What do you think is next for your interviewing style?
A: I didn’t die. I don’t have the same grief as others because of my interviews. I have a feeling they are going to find a new version because I created it in a vacuum that no one has cared about since 2016 (when she launched Baited by Ziwe). This is another era that has ended and I am ready to see what the new era is like.