Yesterday was a bit of a difficult one, as the news about the sudden death of Darcie Silver was upsetting. I wasn’t good friends with Darcie, but I knew her a bit. We gigged together a good few times back in the day, and as trans women in comedy are such a rarity - you don’t quickly forget each other. Darcie had a really dark sense of humor, and seemed to love seeing an audience squirm at her jokes that cut really close to the bone. I remember one gig especially at Comedy Bloomers a couple of years ago where Darcie was the exact thing the audience needed - her dark stage persona being a therapeutic remedy for the general frustration a lot of the queers in the audience were feeling. She was a comedian with a lot of promise, and I remember being surprised when I heard she’d moved to Thailand, but from what I could see on her social media she seemed happy there. My understanding is that Darcie died in her sleep from an asthma attack, and left behind a lot of people who love and miss her.
I wish I could write more about Darcie, but I can’t. I wish I knew her better. At the time when we were on the circuit together, I was still a bit insecure about other trans acts. Maybe because there are truly so few of us, every spot on a line up or profile building opportunity can feel like a competition. It’s a toxic point of view, I know. And thankfully, I haven’t felt that way in a good few years. It’s rooted in insecurity, and it doesn’t help you one single bit. I try to be as embracing as I possibly can towards other trans performers now, because at the end of the day - that isn’t all we are. Darcie’s sets weren’t always about being trans - and actually, the fact she was trans often felt like a formality she needed to get out of the way so she could get on with roasting the audience.
You get to a point in comedy where you stop viewing yourself as the token minority that promoters want to box you in as - and for me that has manifested as a conscious effort to not really talk about trans issues on stage anymore, unless it comes up as a natural part of my life experience. But when two trans acts are on a bill, there is often still the worry that their material will line up too closely, based on their shared life experiences. But the truth is, no two of us share the exact same life.
Now though, above anything else, I want to see more trans voices in comedy. We need fresh perspectives on our experiences, be they empowering, irreverent or dark, like Darcie’s. Just because I don’t want to talk about it so much anymore doesn’t mean we don’t need people doing it.
Trans people are still, by and large, skeptical about stand up comedy. I’ve noticed a reluctance from trans people to both do, and go to stand up comedy over the years - and I do a lot of queer nights. You ask who’s in - L (yeah!) G? (woo!) Where my B’s at? (hey!) T? (crickets…). It makes sense - comedy has long been a hostile place for us. We’ve always been the butt of the joke, and most audiences frequently have their mind made up about you before you’ve even opened your mouth. Darcie definitely gave them something they weren’t expecting.
I don’t know what else to say really. These aren’t the most well thought through things, I’m just trying to process some feelings. All I know is, I wish Darcie hadn't died. I wish she were still living her best life in Thailand and making people laugh. I wish I had known her a bit better.
Jen x