Alright – so today we’ve got the honor of introducing you to Dahlia Belle. We think you’ll enjoy our conversation, we’ve shared it below.

Hi Dahlia, thanks for joining us today. Learning the craft is often a unique journey from every creative – we’d love to hear about your journey and if knowing what you know now, you would have done anything differently to speed up the learning process.

The first and most essential step in learning the craft of comedy is to learn oneself. I was still closeted and cut off from myself when I first started, and the audience could feel it. No matter how good I believed my writing to be, I wasn’t writing for me. I essentially wrote for comics I had seen and who had inspired me. I was merely rewriting their material in my own voice – in imitation of the real thing.

Audiences can pick up on insecurities, secrets, and outright lies. I mean, certainly, a degree of dishonesty and partial truths is inherent to the gig, but you have to lie for the sake of a better story – that’s the punchline – not for the sake of lying to the audience about yourself.

Comedy is first and foremost the art of being entirely true to oneself. Not every audience or audience member will fuck with what you bring to the stage, but if you remain defiantly and absolutely true to yourself, it will inspire and motivate YOUR audience.

I had to learn and accept that I couldn’t write for cisgender, heterosexual men, because I have never lived their experiences. But I can absolutely write for transgender, queer women, because my struggles, insecurities, foibles, and faux pas are also theirs. Only by speaking from my own truth and lived experiences can I speak to their truth and lived experiences, and that is the cathartic heart of stand-up – to see someone like yourself being entirely true to their self.

Great, appreciate you sharing that with us. Before we ask you to share more of your insights, can you take a moment to introduce yourself and how you got to where you are today to our readers.

I grew up in the ’90s and was brought up on Comedy Central and HBO comedy specials. I admired the raw confidence and cultural defiance I saw demonstrated by the likes of Wanda Sykes, Louis CK, Dave Chappelle, Margaret Cho, Paul Mooney, et al. Growing up closeted and neurotic, I wanted more than anything to be like them; to have the bravery to be entirely myself on a national stage, saying whatever I wanted and having people adore me for it.

I also performed as a musician for over a decade before shooting my shot with stand-up. Again, being a queer Black kid in the Midwest, I found the greatest acceptance among fellow misfits and outcasts; punk, noise, and avant-garde types. They were among the few people that not only tolerated but celebrated my atypical behavior and modes of self-expression. From them I learned to break the rules, to test the bounds, and most importantly to always do for self. Some people will understand, and fuck anyone who doesn’t. They aren’t for me. They’ve never been for me. There’s no point in spinning my wheels in a futile attempt to convert them to my worldview. Birds of a feather or some shit.

Even so, I initially struggled, because initially artists struggle. There’s no avoiding it, especially if you’re trying to do anything new or unique, and stand-up is an unforgiving discipline. We are all on our own and have nothing to hide behind. We don’t rely on scripts, instruments, or formal education. We rely on being so unapologetic in who we are that it’s not only heard but felt and experienced by our audience.

Once I understood that, I understood my mission. My brand, my job is to celebrate within me that which my my fan base might still be afraid to share with others. I take our common struggles, obstacles, and insecurities, and convert them, through humor, into infinite wells of strength and self-determination. More than anything, I want my fans to walk away from everything I do feeling emboldened to be whoever they truly wish to be; to speak they words they believe need speaking; to take pride in the things they have been told to suppress.

In short, I want nothing more than authenticity and freedom.

What can society do to ensure an environment that’s helpful to artists and creatives?

What we in entertainment and the performing arts need more than anything (money not withstanding) is an in person audience. Sure, I love interacting with fans on social media, and my authentic way of doing so has been essential in building my online following, but comedy is a conversation; a largely one-sided conversation, but a conversation none the less.

An album or a special is an advertisement for most artists. It’s not the true art. Our true art is born in real time. No matter how disciplined an artist may be, each performance is for the audience directly in front of us at that moment. We want to connect with the world around us, and art is how we do so.

And also, we need money. Even if it looks like all we do is show up, get drunk, and share some anecdotes, there’s more to it than that, and even if there weren’t, I dare any normal person to expose their life and being to a world of strangers with absolute confidence. It’s not an easy thing to do, for anyone. Furthermore, doing so greatly reduces one’s ability to hold down a normal job.

I talk a lot about my booty-hole and substance use. I can’t get an office job with that resume. So, if you enjoy hearing about my booty-hole and substance use online, understand that your entertainment has a social cost.

Show up. Show out. Show love and show us the money. A bitch got bills to pay, just like anybody else.

We’d love to hear a story of resilience from your journey.

Being an artist requires the thickest of skin. Every criticism and rejection hurts, but that’s also like 90% of the job.

When I started doing comedy in Portland, OR, the scene (a loosely “organized” hodge-podge of maladapted people) was largely led by women who generously allowed me a foot in the door. As those brilliant women relocated to bigger, better, more lucrative scenes in New York and Los Angeles, I saw my opportunities and booking rapidly decrease. Most stand-up is booked by other stand-ups, and most stand-ups favor their friends and people like themselves. It’s nothing personal. We’re just narcissistically bias like that.

Luckily, my punk/noise roots had long taught me that if left without a table, build your own, and so I have. I’ve accepted that there’s no point in or need to subjugate myself for work. I don’t need to mold myself into something more palatable for people I don’t like. Instead, I’ve stayed true to myself, my brand, and my vision.

It’s a significantly longer, harder road, but also a thousand times more rewarding once it slowing starts to pay off in fans, followers, opportunities, and cold, hard cash.

An audience of queer women will always respond better to me than a room full of straight men, so I choose gigs and venues that cater to queer women. Why wouldn’t I when I’m a queer woman? There are things I can say to a Black audience that alienate white audiences. I’ll still say that shit in front of white people, but I know they won’t like it and I don’t care.      

Contact Info:

• Instagram: @mx.dahliabelle
• Facebook: Dahlia Delu Belle / Mx. Dahlia Belle
• Twitter: @MxDahliaBelle
• Youtube: https://youtube.com/@mxdahliabelle