We watched Ali Wong’s Milk & Money tour a couple of years ago (ie. paid $88 for balcony seats when we could have waited for her Netflix special). It was the first of her four shows in Vancouver, and it was incredible. I’m really not a fan of stand-up comedy. Don’t you also find that people seem much less funny when they’re trying too hard to impress you? Ali’s different.
First off, let’s state the obvious that she’s a short Asian female, someone I can actually relate to. But most importantly, her set flows. There are no choppy transitions (“So this one time…”) that make you feel jerked from one story to the next. Instead, there’s an ebb and flow of Hello Kitty sponsorship requests, a sly flow from how men in comedy get #fanpussy to operations that only old men do that she’s also had to a story about poop to how she got to that point while filming Always Be My Maybe.
As a writer, I was trying very hard to follow her storyline’s structure, to see how she accomplished weaving all these things into a hilariously justified tapestry, speckled with convincing moments of why women should perhaps cheat on their husbands! It was difficult to follow, but proving how strong of a writer she’s become.
I’m not a comic nor humourous by any means, but I felt very privileged to be in the presence of such a talent. Not only did she turn one Vancouver show into four, the audience she attracted was so diverse. I remember how my mom used to tell me that as an Asian female, you have to work at least twice as hard to get the same respect a ‘Canadian’ would.
Seeing the multi-cultural crowd that Ali Wong commanded elicited a visceral reaction in me: you, you short Asian female who rightfully feels racial and gender frustrations, you too can make it in the world when you’re true to yourself.
