Your mom is the first person you fall in love with, so it’s loaded forever and carries all this baggage. There’s almost always a communication barrier in place. In my case it’s a language and cultural barrier, but other times, it’s because your mother’s love is conditional or because you’re fundamentally different.
My problem is that my imagination won’t turn off. I wake up so excited I can’t eat breakfast. I’ve never run out of energy. It’s not like OPEC oil; I don’t worry about a premium going on my energy. It’s just always been there. I got it from my mom.
I probably wouldn’t be singing if not for Michael Jackson. When I started singing, I didn’t like my tone until my mom put me on to Michael Jackson and Stevie Wonder, so listening to the way they used their instrument helped me get more comfortable with my own.
Although my mom and I had often disagreed politically and personally, she’d led our family by example, instilling in us a can-do attitude that often defied reason – an optimism many would call foolish, ignorant, and naive, but an optimism that occasionally shocked our neighbors and our world with its brazen veracity.
I have three older brothers, and we all have different combinations of parents. My father was the best man at my mom’s first wedding! And my brother’s mother – my dad’s first wife – is the sister to my mom’s first husband’s second wife. So my brothers are both stepcousins and stepbrothers. It’s very ‘70s rock.
My mom had early rap records, like Jimmy Spicer. In the middle of the records was a turntable and a receiver – I used to scratch records on it – and on top was a reel-to-reel. In front of that wall were more stacks of records. It was either Mom’s record or Pop’s record, and they had their names on each and every one.
It’s about getting the kids up and fed, getting one to school, getting the other down for a nap, going to the grocery store, picking one up from school, getting the other one down for another nap, cooking dinner… I live my life at these two extremes. I’m either a full-time stay-at-home mom or a full-time actress.
My real name is Joseph Herbert. My dad is white; my mom’s Asian, Filipino. And when I started stand-up 22 years ago, I used to go up as Joseph Herbert, and I would just have to defend my name. Every time I went onstage, it was so annoying. People would heckle.
I was 17 and out of school, living with my mom, starving, not eating, getting locked up, no focus, no guidance. When you ain’t got no guidance, you can’t do too much. But then I had my first son and started working. I got the right people around me.
When I was a little bitty kid, I was listening to the stuff my parents were listening to. My mom was a huge Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey, Mary J. Blige fan. My dad had a cover band that I sang with, and he loved Parliament, Prince, Jimi Hendrix, and Eric Clapton, the blues, James Brown.
I have been doing merch’ since I was 15 and in bands when I was a teenager – silk-screening shirts, making the emulsion in my mom’s closet I converted into a dark room, through college. That’s essentially how us bands survived was selling homemade t-shirts.
Whenever I feel mom-guilt, or I feel pressure to be a better mom – to cook salmon on a bed of quinoa for my kids – I just think to myself, ‘I… have… suffered… enough.’ And then I feel fine about feeding my toddler a bag of chips for dinner.
If I could get any animal it would be a dolphin. I want one so bad. Me and my mom went swimming with dolphins and I was like, ‘How do we get one of those?’ and she was like, ‘You can’t get a dolphin. What are you gonna do, like, put it in your pool?’
I never thought it was fair that women couldn’t travel freely because it was dangerous. I’d stay by myself on the North Carolina coast for a couple of weeks, with my dog and my gun, and my mom would be terrified. I told her, if I stay home, a lamp could fall on my head. You can’t spend your whole life inside because you’re scared.
I was really lucky to have been raised in this really powerful matriarchy where my dad was around, but I was with my mom and my grandma most of the time. They were heavy influences on me. My mother has a career in technology; my grandma sold real estate.
I’ve looked at pictures that my mom has of me, from when I was four years old at the turntable. I’m there, reaching up to play the records. I feel like I was bred to do what I do. I’ve been into music, and listening to music and critiquing it, my whole life.
I always had short hair, and I hated my short hair. I was always mistaken for a boy, but my mom wouldn’t let me change my hair because she was always chasing me around with a hairbrush, and it was always tangled, so she just would cut it off, and she’s right: short hair did suit me.
My mom and dad were ‘helicopter parents,’ literally. Meaning, I didn’t have a nanny, so I went up in the helicopter. My entire early childhood education consisted of tagging along while they reported on car accidents, multiple-alarm fires, and shootouts.
I write about love, but it’s me wanting to be in love. I’ve never been in love. I love my mom, my dad. I want to be in love. I think I have to allow myself to get there. I’m just so in love with music. It’s weird. I’m at a crossroads because I want to be in love.
I spend my afternoons painting and working on my Open Hearts jewelry line for Kay Jewelers. I designed an image of a heart that isn’t completely closed. My mom always told me to live with an open heart – when life gets tough, you should go out and help someone else.
My mother’s brother became the undersecretary of the interior for Nixon, which did cause a little drama in my family because I was going to riots and everything, but he turned out great and gave us a nice cheque for an AIDS benefit we had for the ‘Serial Mom’ premiere.
I had a mild case of polio – not enough to put me in an iron lung, but enough to keep me bedridden for weeks. As I came out of it, my mom wanted to do something for me. She realized that, growing up in the city, I’d missed out on a lot of nature.
The one thing that was nice about being an only child is that my friends’ parents would always ask me whether I would want any other brothers and sisters? My mom wasn’t able to have any more children, and they didn’t know that, but I would always say that I can have friends over, and whenever I get sick of them, I can just send them home.
I was who I was in high school in accordance with the rules of conduct for a normal person, like obeying your mom and dad. Then I got out of high school and moved out of the house, and I just started, for lack of a better term, running free.
Food brings back memories. I had a mom that wasn’t a good cook, so I would eat my grandma’s food. It was amazing because it brings back a time almost in Technicolor. I see her house, I see her stove; I think about what it felt like when I was sick, and it felt like love.
