Every day at 5:40 pm, I sat on our off-white sofa and watched The Mask on CCTV 6. As Jim Carrey strutted out wearing his green mask and yellow tuxedo, I wrapped a blanket around my shoulder. When Jim started fighting Peter Greene, I waved my small arm and shouted Jim's iconic line: “Ooh, someone stops me!” At that moment, Mom waltzed over with a bowl of light brown medicine.
“Take the elixir,” she said dramatically, “so you can beat MORE bad guys!” Hearing her words, I became so brave that I downed the pain medicine in two big gulps.
At nine, I was fascinated by the power of comedy. Countless afternoons spent guffawing and dancing with Jim not only honed my Lindy Hop steps but also helped me beat years-long gastroenteritis and restored smiles to my parents’ faces. After recovery, I decided to follow Jim and start my own comedy career. While Jim performed to amuse his ailing mother and unemployed father, I used comedy to help our family diner.
Every night, after finishing my homework under the cashier table, I joined my parents in serving the guests. While Dad cooked in the kitchen, Mom and I took orders. “Sure, ma’am, your ‘déjà-brew’ (classic Oolong tea) will arrive in no time!” “Yes, sir, spice will stay miles away from your dish!” Accommodating each guest’s requirement with wit and humor, I realized that a sprinkle of comedy could brighten everyone’s life. Mr. Chang, a software engineer working nearby, always came after a busy day, expecting to see me deliver his beef stir-fry in Michael Jackson’s Moonwalk; Miss Li, a bank teller who shared my love for old-school music, even suggested that I do sliding steps on roller skates!
Performing comedy in our diner, I learned to appreciate its power in strengthening communities. I learned, as well, to use good laughs to help my family through various difficulties—be it cleaning until midnight after catering a twenty-person dinner or heaving loads of vegetables into our kitchen at six a.m.
Over the years, while comedy built my confidence in public speaking, debate, and theater, our diner grew into “a business,” which means we can now afford small luxuries like playing croquet and traveling abroad. Meanwhile, comedy also empowered me to address social issues creatively.
In 2019, when I started volunteering at Chaoyang Nursing Home, I used comedy to start conversations my supervisor Mrs. Wang deemed as “almost impossible.” Combining my now refined Lindy Hop steps with Chinese xiangsheng, I performed a skit to amuse Mr. Li, a seventy-year-old man who always refused to take pills. After my performance, he raised a brow and asked, “How old are you?” I sat down by him and there began our long-term friendship.
Through conversations and walks in the park, I mined out the reason he hated pills—it had to do with his youngest daughter—and his concerns about living alone in a nursing home. As our conversations went deeper, I glimpsed into some of the most neglected issues in elder care, such as a caretaker’s potential for tending and hurting an elder simultaneously. These issues are urgent, and I take them as my tasks in and after college.
Comedy continues to expand my horizon, allowing me to use humor and flexibility to confront the most sensitive issues in China. But above all, I guess what comedy does best is offering hope in difficult situations.
This summer, my high school comedy club held our first charity show at Beijing Children's Hospital, using a retro Michael musical to inspire children with leukemia. After our performance, the kids pulled at our tuxedos and asked us to play UNO with them. Watching their beaming faces, I thought of my nine-year-old self standing before the TV, waiting for Jim. I have overcome the greatest difficulties in my life, and I believe that soon, they will overcome theirs too.