For Mental Health Awareness Month, we asked Latino comedians and creators we admire about how comedy has helped them overcome trauma and confront life’s biggest challenges. Read the articles here.
Erik Rivera’s life is beautiful. Joining our Zoom session from his home in Los Angeles, the writer, actor and comedian is all smiles under a worn baseball cap. Maybe it’s the sunny weather Angelinos always brag about. Or maybe it’s the fact that he worked hard to achieve what he has now: a respectable career, a stable marriage and two wonderful boys. Regardless, the contrast between where he once was and his current status is not lost on him, even if it is on his children.
“My kids have no idea how good they have it,” the comic says with a laugh.
Growing up in New Rochelle, New York, to a Puerto Rican father and a Guatemalan mother, Rivera knows the value of a dollar all too well. He spent his youth navigating between his parents’ immigrant sensibilities and the pressures of American life. Unsurprisingly, this dichotomy is something that Rivera has been able to mine for comedic gold, incorporating it into his stand-up as well as other aspects of his life, like his interracial marriage and what it’s like. is really about raising two boys. But, despite a lifelong love of stand-up, comedy as a career wasn’t something Rivera saw in the cards.
“When you come from immigrant parents, you don’t know that it’s a career. They impose the usual habits on you, like a doctor, a lawyer, and they tell you: ‘Do something consistent and that brings in money regularly ‘” Rivera said. Rivera therefore planned to attend Pace University to pursue a degree in communications. Then 9/11 happened.
“[After 9/11]they reopened [the school] because they were using the campus as a triage center. And I remember going back, and it was just this weird feeling. There was soot everywhere. We watch the trucks haul out the debris every day. The kids just didn’t feel comfortable,” Rivera recalled.
In an attempt to escape the morbid atmosphere, Rivera and a friend went to a comedy club, which they were shocked to find packed.
“People wanted to forget,” the comedian says bluntly. The idea then came to him to organize a comedy evening on campus and give his classmates the opportunity to get together and recharge their batteries through laughter.
“Stand-up is such a pure art form…no matter what you’re going through in your day, you come to a show, and for an hour and a half, whatever problems you have, you leave them there. the door and you have a good time,” Rivera says. “Yeah, they’ll always be there [when you leave]but you can relax and free yourself.”
But while helping others overcome trauma by putting on comedy shows was great, a part of Rivera wanted more. As a child, he had seen John Leguizamo’s “Mambo Mouth”, which immediately triggered something in him. There was someone from his culture talking about things he could relate to. Now an adult, organizing stand-up evenings and working with comedians, he has had the chance to tell his own story and use it to help people accept theirs.
“I remember there was a night sitting [at a comedy show], and it was the first time I saw how the rabbit came out of the hat. I saw the setup, I saw the punchline, I saw how the guy was leading the audience in a direction and playing with their emotions of frustration, of anger, and releasing them by laughing,” he says. I was like, ‘I think I can do it.'”
A month later, he was on stage at a club called Hamburger Harry’s in Times Square. For most of us, the idea of jumping into the deep end would be inconceivable. But for Rivera, that’s what makes stand-up special. It’s not just about telling jokes, but also about putting yourself out there – putting your pain and struggles out there for the benefit of the public.
“Look, you can go up there and write jokes; there are some amazing joke writers,” Rivera says. “But [the real connection comes] of vulnerability. Yes, we find it through stereotypes, but there’s also this vulnerability of, “Hey, this is happening to me,” and people can relate to that. »
For him, comedy is an outlet, a way to explore aspects of his life that aren’t always neat or pretty, whether it’s his mother-in-law suggesting he organize a Mexican mariachi band for Rivera’s rehearsal dinner or who makes it a point to keep the fridge stocked with guacamole just for him. Exploring these issues on stage allows him to not only address them in a healthy way, but also to take the audience on his journey with him.
This is why stand-up has traditionally been a path to success for oppressed or marginalized communities. Our difficulties can give rise to a good laugh that helps lighten the burden we carry. But channeling this pain can be tricky. Rivera admits he made the mistake of trying to explore certain traumas before the wounds were fully healed – particularly the death of his father from Parkinson’s disease.
“I’m not going to lie to you, when I started telling this story on stage, it was risky. I wasn’t ready to start talking about it,” he says.
And then something beautiful happened. The more Rivera worked on the material, the more he refined his father’s story, and the more people began coming up to him after his shows to thank him and tell him they were experiencing something similar.
“Every time you go through something, you say to yourself, ‘I’m the only one going through this.’ We all experience this; it’s just that no one talks about it,” he says.
For this reason, writing has become part of Rivera’s healing process. Even if he has not distanced himself from what he is going through, even if he does not yet see the funny or if he is not ready to bring it on stage, his mind is still thinking about the possibility that one day he will be able to share it. He frequently keeps a journal, considering it a sort of “map” of how he gets through difficult times. The comedian also mentions the important role running plays in helping him process his thoughts.
“Everyone should have some sort of quiet time, meditation or something to get you out of your head and out of your own space,” Rivera says.
Whether it’s working on material on stage or running around in the beautiful Los Angeles weather, Rivera has his own. Throughout our conversation, he exudes a kind of self-confidence that comes from working on his pieces, which is actually working on himself. Now he’s ready for what’s next, even if it’s not necessarily comedy.
“You always have to evolve, man,” he says. “You have to do everything, you have to write, you have to lead. The more tools you have in your toolbox, the harder it is for them to say no to you.” “.
Rivera does it all. During the pandemic, he wrote an animated show that he plans to shop in the future. And while he still loves comedy and shares that it will always be his way of healing and helping others heal, he also admits that there are other ways to tell the stories that matter.
“Having children changed my outlook on everything,” he says. “Watching TV and not seeing the representation there, where my kids don’t even see themselves…now I’ve kind of pivoted to, let’s write these next TV projects so we can see ourselves in them.”
Rivera wants to see more than the stereotypical Latino narratives about “trauma of crossing the border” or “we have to save the taco shop.” He just wants to see regular shows about Latinos as regular people with regular problems, working on those problems the same way he did and continues to do.
“That’s my next goal in life, to make these shows that people can laugh at, watch together and vibe with Latinos,” he concludes.
Miguel Machado is a journalist specializing in the intersection of Latinx identity and culture. He does everything from exclusive interviews with Latin music artists to opinion pieces on issues relevant to the community, personal essays related to his Latinidad, as well as think pieces and features relating to Puerto Rico and the Puerto Rican culture.
