Mid ramadan reflection: Nothing is yours forever
On Doppelganger, Hasan Minhaj, an upcoming move and two novels I could not put down.
“You know you can’t just go to therapy right?” Hasan Minhaj asks us during his March show titled “Off with His Head” at the Queen Elizabeth Theatre in Vancouver. “You actually have to change.” He continues his train of thought, reflecting that instead of telling other people you’ve been to therapy, “therapy is one of those things that other people should tell you that they’ve noticed. You can’t just go around telling people about your therapy experiences, learning new ways to avoid accountability. It’s like a haircut. Other people need to notice.”
It’s a point well made in a show in which Minhaj is grappling with fallibility and the challenges of living up to one’s values. Within it, he speaks about being a husband and son who is committed to passing on the “heirlooms of his upbringing” while processing and discarding the baggage he’s received, admitting that he is still far from where he wants to be. He gives an example of being committed to apologising in his marriage despite not always knowing what he is apologising for, because he doesn’t want to let things fester like his parents did.
At different points in the show he addresses the men in the audience, the “bros who listen to podcasts instead of reading books” who are in text chains with “da boyz” filled with messages about cryptocurrency articles and memes, who want to be better, are trying to be better, but mess up over and over again. Over the course of the show he asks repeatedly, “why are we like this?” The gap between intentions and actions can be painful, and this show is keen to point out our inconsistencies.
The consolation it seems, is that this is a collective problem, and we need to figure this out together. This is the third live show I’ve seen with Hasan Minhaj, and this one is about making mistakes. It is about his very public takedown, (complete he admits wryly, with its own Wikipedia page featuring a controversy section), about achieving the immigrant dream of living and succeeding in the heart of empire, and then realizing this dream comes at a high cost. He is successful he admits, but his tax dollars fund wars in other places. By living in the US, he is complicit with attacks on “Beige-istan”, he is part of what is killing the children of Gaza.
He feels looser and angrier in this show than he has been in the past, alternating between leaning forwards on a stool and telling us secrets, and then in the next moment, kicking the same stool across the stage in frustration. He positions himself as both bullied and the bully, frustrated that he is an “NPR tote-wearing” person pointing out inaccuracies to others and by his description, pedantic about the pronunciation of his name, and at the same time, on the receiving end of other people’s critiques.
This is a show that is still very much being worked out and needs more development before it is a polished special, but I am curious about where Minhaj’s comedy is going to go next. The highlight of the night was the opener of the show Hoodo Hersi. I’ve been a fan of her comedy for years, and it was a dream come true to see her perform live.
Hasan’s observations about inconsistencies between intentions, values and actions sparked something though, and a search for more integration has been a theme of this Ramadan.
A few weeks before Ramadan, I met a friend at a nearby coffee shop and over an oversized mocha and treats, shared my dreams of continuing to write and run my micro business, coach people, care for my health, read books, love my people and live a big, interesting and yet tiny life. “I could happily live in our tiny apartment in this neighbourhood for the next ten years.” I declared. “I do not want a house or more space, I do not want more things.” I’ve been paring down my life for months now, divesting, boycotting, reducing our footprint and taking on fewer contracts and this felt true.
A few short weeks after that conversation, we got a letter from our landlord letting us know that after six years in our apartment, we have to move.