A stroke. Yep, I survived one. And while the journey to recovery has been no joke, comedy turned out to be my secret weapon. Forget green juices and yoga; I’ve been on a Netflix binge, devouring stand-up specials and comedy roasts like my life depends on it.
Even when it hurt to laugh—and trust me, there were moments when my ribs felt like they were auditioning for a boxing match—I laughed anyway. Because nothing, nothing, feels better than laughing so hard you forget about everything else, even the fact that you just survived a major medical event.
First up: the legends of stand-up. Dave Chappelle, Kevin Hart, Trevor Noah—they all became my unintentional therapists. Chappelle’s smart, edgy humor had me questioning the universe and laughing at the same time. Kevin Hart’s wild energy made me want to get up and sprint around the room—except, you know, stroke recovery.
Trevor Noah? My South African pride shines brighter than my laugh lines when I watch him. His accents, cultural insights, and sharp observations are so good I felt like he was reading my life’s diary. And Steve Harvey? That man made me laugh so hard I nearly fell off the couch.
But I couldn’t stop at stand-up—I dived headfirst into comedy roasts. Let me tell you, a roast is like stand-up comedy on steroids. It’s brutal, it’s savage, and it’s downright hilarious.
Let’s start with the Comedy Central Roast of AKA. Now, if you don’t know, AKA was a South African rapper with a personality so big it practically roasted itself. Comedians dragged him for his love of self-promotion, his controversial tweets, and everything in between. My favorite line? “AKA’s ego is so big, it had to book its own flight to the show!” I laughed so hard I forgot I was supposed to be resting.
Then there was the roast of Minnie Dlamini. Oh, poor Minnie—South Africa’s darling TV personality. They roasted her for everything from her glamorous lifestyle to her failed marriage. One comedian joked, “Minnie is so good at dodging responsibilities, she even avoided being famous for her own talent!” I’m still giggling at that one.
And we can’t forget the roast of Tom Brady. Now, I’m not even into American football, but this roast? Pure gold. They tore into Brady for his perfect jawline, his supermodel wife, and the fact that he’s basically won every football game since the dawn of time. One comedian quipped, “Tom Brady is so perfect, he’s the reason God stopped making men like him. The rest of us? Factory rejects.”
I also watched the roast of Justin Bieber. Oh, that one was a masterpiece. Comedians like Kevin Hart and Natasha Leggero obliterated Bieber for his bad-boy antics, tattoos, and even his music. Natasha’s line, “Justin, you’re like a toddler with cash. No one knows how you got here, but we all have to deal with you,” had me choking on my tea.
Of course, my feminist soul couldn’t let the boys hog all the fun. Female comedians have been holding it down, and I’m here to give them their flowers. Tiffany Haddish had me doubled over with her “She Ready!” energy, reminding me that women can and will dominate any room they walk into. Her jokes about her foster care upbringing? Equal parts hilarious and heartwarming.
Closer to home, Celeste Ntuli, Tumi Morake, and Thenjiwe Moseley represent South African comedy queens with pride. Celeste’s jokes about African families had me texting my cousins mid-show just to say, “She’s talking about us!” And Tumi’s sharp wit about gender roles? Chef’s kiss.
Look, I don’t need a doctor to tell me that laughter is good for me—I felt it. Studies say laughter reduces stress, improves your immune system, and releases endorphins, but you don’t need a PhD to know that a good laugh feels like a warm hug for your soul. After my stroke, it was laughter that got me out of bed, kept me hopeful, and reminded me that life, despite its challenges, is still worth enjoying.
As a women’s rights advocate, I’ve spent years working in marginalized communities where mental health is often ignored. People are carrying the weight of poverty, unemployment, and trauma, and it shows. So here’s my big idea: comedy pop-ups.
Imagine bringing stand-up shows and comedy roasts to rural areas and townships. Picture comedians setting up in community halls, soccer fields, or even taxi ranks, bringing laughter to people who need it most. Because if comedy can heal me after a stroke, imagine what it could do for someone battling depression, anxiety, or just the daily grind of life.
You know what? I think I’ve got what it takes. Comedy has been my lifeline, and now I want to pay it forward. My life is a series of awkward moments and bizarre situations that are practically begging to be turned into jokes.
Here’s a sneak peek of my future set: “So I had a stroke, right? And my doctor told me to avoid stress. I said, ‘Doctor, have you tried living in South Africa? Eskom gives me heart palpitations every day!’” Or, “They told me to take it easy after my stroke. So I did the only logical thing: I binge-watched Kevin Hart. Who knew Netflix was part of my recovery plan?”
Honestly, I’m ready. Comedy has healed me in ways I didn’t know were possible. It’s brought joy, hope, and a renewed sense of purpose to my life. And who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll see me on stage, roasting Trevor Noah or headlining my own Netflix special. Until then, I’ll keep laughing, dreaming, and healing—because laughter really is the best medicine.
