Vanity Fair UK - 11.2019

values? It’s the crown prince of Saudi Ara-

bia. What do you think he does to people

who question his power?”

Both his sister and his wife asked

him to take a step back, to make sure he

truly understood what he was about to

do. They worried he was being stubborn

and selsh and “it was beyond just get-

ting the episode pulled.” Did he really

want to live with the consequences of

this? Did he want to ever make hajj in his

life? His comedian friends, for whom

there’s no such thing as a sacred cow,

took the opposite position.

“They’re like, ‘But you’re saying the

truth, man.’ But I’m like, ‘Yeah, man,

but I’m also trying to live to see these

retweets.’ ” In the end, the compulsion

to speak up, to “go for it,” won out.

“Comedians have this platform. Espe-

cially right now and especially the plat-

form I have. You can be a provocateur.

You can say crazy shit for crazy shit’s sake.

Or you can aim that towards something.”

M

inhaj’s immediate commu-

nity has been a mix of support

and, unwittingly, part of the

problem. He was never up for Jon Stew-

art’s gig, but several comedian friends,

under the guise of “genuine leveling,”

oŒered up their opinion, unprompted,

that he would never get it.

“They were like, ‘They couldn’t give

it to you, man. Just imagine saying The

Daily Show With Hasan Minhaj. How is

Doritos gonna put ads up against that?’ ”

This, in particular, stung. There’s a

lot in a name, especially for Minhaj, who

grew up around enough Chads and Codys

that they remain his go-to dude names for

a joke. When he appeared on Ellen earlier

this year, he tried to get her to nail the

pronunciation (she never

quite did). He argued that

if America can get “Bene-

dict Cumberbatch” and

“Timothée Chalamet”

right, they can handle Hasan Minhaj.

What America heard was charming repar-

tee between host and guest, but Minhaj’s

father, who was in the audience along

with his mother, heard something else.

“I got a big lecture in the car afterwards

on ‘Why do you do this stuŒ? Why do you

make a scene?’ But this is the assimilation

argument, that we should just be grateful

to be at the party at all,” he says. “I know

it’s Ellen and I know this is a big deal—but

can we do it on our terms?”

There’s “our” terms and then there’s

Hasan Minhaj’s terms. He asks me, ear-

nestly, if I think you have to be “fucked

up” to be funny. This is a long-standing

debate he’s had with other comedians. I

ask him to dene fucked up.

“Any of it. Comedians like Rock and

Louis talk about it, but I’m like: Is this the

cost of doing comedy? I don’t want this.”

I tell him I can’t speak to comedians,

but I can speak to writers. I know that peo-

ple glorify David Foster Wallace, or leave

nips of whiskey on Hemingway’s grave

even though Hemingway never wrote

drunk. Even our most revered depressives

and hedonists ™inished their thoughts

before they succumbed to them. Or else

we never would have heard of them.

“That’s true,” he says, seeming uncon-

vinced.

“What did you get on your AP exams?”

“You know?” he asks, his face brighten-

ing. “I don’t remember. I actually don’t

remember. That’s probably a good sign.”

Watch more

with

Hasan Minhaj

at VF.com.

SCREEN SAVER

Minhaj, in NYC.

Coat and suit by

Alexander

McQueen; shirt

by Prada.

Throughout: hair

products by

Oribe; grooming

products by

Forest Essentials.

147

GROOMING BY ERICA SAUER; TAILOR, WENDEL JOHNSTON; SET DESIGN BY GILLE MILLS; PRODUCED ON LOCATION BY COCO KNUDSON; FOR DETAILS, GO TO VF.COM/CREDITS

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