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Wanda Sykes Speaks Her Mind: “I’m Not Beholden to the Purse Strings”

Wanda Sykes has every right to feel conflicted. She’s frustrated about a lot of what she sees on the news and in her industry, but, at 58, one could argue she’s never been in higher demand.

The veteran stand-up, who made her name writing on The Chris Rock Show during the late ’90s, recently returned to the touring circuit for the first time since the pandemic began. She just wrapped production on Hulu’s History of the World Part II, for which she was handpicked by Mel Brooks as a writer and producer. June 29 brings the sophomore season of her Netflix sitcom, The Upshaws. And, on top of an ever-steady drumbeat of scene-stealing guest actor work (see: The Other Two, A Black Lady Sketch Show and The Good Fight), she even found time to co-host March’s Academy Awards telecast. (We’ll get to that.)

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It sounds like a lot to everyone but Sykes, who suggests she’s adopted a healthier approach over time. “I used to try to do everything and I was killing myself doing that,” says the comic, whose Push It Productions shingle focuses on comedy. “I’m at a point now where I only step in when I see something that I can do better. It took me a while to get there.”

Speaking over the phone in early June from the Pennsylvania home she shares with her wife and their two children, Sykes, who’s momentarily sidelined by COVID, unpacked her evolution and proved that even a nasty cough and the daily onslaught of bad news can’t stop her from being funny.

What’s it been like being back out on the road?

I do make jokes about being in quarantine. It’d be weird not to when I haven’t seen my audience in over two years. But there’s so much craziness going on now that a pandemic that shut us down is not the biggest story happening in this country. We’re about to lose our democracy. But people want to laugh.

Yet, as a woman, a Black woman and a queer person, there’s a lot to be angry about right now. How do you negotiate the need for laughs with the subjects that matter to you?

I’m still trying to find that line of how much they want to laugh at what’s going on or if they want to hear about more personal stuff and not try to think about this crazy-ass time. My rule is, and pretty much always has been, “If I don’t have a funny joke for it, I’m not going to bring it up.” I don’t want to waste time ranting … which would be easy to do because there’s so much shit to rant about right now. I mean, abortion rights! The list is endless.

There’s been a lot of talk about safety onstage since Dave Chappelle was bum-rushed at the Hollywood Bowl. What’s your take?

It’s scary. I have a security guy, and he’s super thorough. But I really love my fans and my audience. They’re respectful. If someone heckles, which is rare, the audience usually takes care of it for me. I was at one show in Orlando, and some guy wasn’t happy with my Republican jokes. He was like, “This blows! Let’s talk about something else!” I just said, “Hey, I’m sorry that you’re a Republican. Sucks being you.” But the audience was like, “Get the fuck out!” (Laughs.)

Have you ever felt afraid to be onstage?

Maybe during that first year of Trump because we found out who was who. I hadn’t realized how crazy it was going to get, how adamant these people were. Political comedy wasn’t funny anymore.

Setting aside the ceremony, how was your experience putting the Oscars telecast together?

I was working on The Upshaws, so I didn’t have enough time to stress over it. I’m successful when I don’t have time to micromanage. Amy [Schumer] was coming guns loaded, and Regina [Hall] was ready to have a lot of fun. It felt like it just all fell into place.

As for the slap, have you processed the ordeal yet?

I should probably talk to somebody, to be honest. It was crazy. It ruined the night. I felt awful for my friend [Rock], for his family. It’s just so shitty. And, for our industry, who are we? We all saw what happened and just sat there. It’s the craziest thing ever. It reflects where we are in this country as far as the level of civility.

What types of projects are you drawn to as a producer?

We just did Standout at Netflix, which showcases queer comics and honors those who paved the way. It’s a stand-up special, but it’ll be a documentary as well. I want projects like that. We’re also just about doing funny shit. It doesn’t necessarily have to be queer. It could be any voices that aren’t being heard. That doesn’t mean we don’t want frigging Halle Berry or Jennifer Aniston walking through our door.

You have a lot of business at Netflix. What’s your take on the troubles and culture changes over there? What are the pros and cons for you right now?

That’s a tricky one.

I don’t want to make you talk smack about the people with the purse strings.

Well, I’m not beholden to the purse strings. I’m happy to have a place to make shows that I want to make. And they have a right to make shows that other people want to make. Do I wish they didn’t make shows that harm a community? Absolutely. Do I wish they’d take responsibility and understand the connection between what’s being put out there and the effects on the community? Yeah. But, then again, I get to make what I want.

There’s a lot of debate over who does and who does not get promotion in streaming, particularly at Netflix. Did you feel your show was well positioned to succeed?

Well, we’re coming back, so something worked. (Laughs.) But I also realize that we have me, Mike Epps and Kim Fields — names that can make a little noise. I get booked on talk shows where I can promote my work. That’s great. The new shows with up-and-coming talent or new faces, it’s really hard for them to break through. There are so many shows out there that you’ve never heard of.

Why do you think that is?

It’s the algorithm. Mike can mention The Upshaws at his stand-up show, and the crowd went crazy. That’s a majority African American crowd, and they love him. My shows are more of a mixed crowd, probably majority white. If I mention The Upshaws, they look at each other like, “Huh?” In our first season, I’d go to my Netflix home page — or Regina Hicks, the co-showrunner, would log in — and see our show. Our white writers said they had to actually do a search to find it. So, even their algorithm says, “Oh no, you don’t want to watch these Black folks. Here’s some nice white people! Watch this.” (Laughs.) When I did my stand-up show in L.A., some [Netflix] execs were there. I said, “I hope you see that, from my audience, I don’t fit the algorithm.”

It seems like we’re only going halfway with inclusivity if the work is only being put in front of the group it represents.

Mm-hmm. Maybe they should make people check a few boxes: “If you watch this show with Asians or that show with Hispanic people, you get a little discount.”

Tell me about working with Mel Brooks.

That’s your bucket list right there. Mel’s funny, and he’s sharp. When he likes something, you know he likes it. And when he doesn’t like something, he says “OK … what else?” I’m just honored that I got a chance to do something with him and that he thinks I’m funny.

Who do you think is funny now?

I love Hacks. And Abbott Elementary is my number one right now. That damn Janelle James. God, she’s so funny. When she fell out of her chair and then asked somebody for a fresh chair? (Laughs.) I go back and rewatch those episodes. That show makes you feel good.

Pootie Tang, the movie that came out of The Chris Rock Show, has developed a cult following over the years. Have you noticed a shared trait among fans?

People love that movie, and yes, they still do mention it to me. They’re usually all weed-heads, so that’s your cult.

Interview edited for length and clarity.

This story first appeared in the June 8 issue of The Hollywood Reporter magazine. Click here to subscribe.