Comedian Zainab Johnson Talks Recording in the Round and the Most Vulnerable Moment of Her Debut Special

Just over a decade ago, Zainab Johnson quit her job working for a comedy producer and performed at her first open mic night. Being on stage and making the crowd laugh sparked a feeling in Johnson unlike any she’d experienced before, and she’s been chasing that sensation ever since. Some of her career highlights so far include a role in the Amazon Original series Upload (from Greg Daniels of The Office fame) and stand-up appearances on Late Night with Seth Meyers, HBO’s All Def Comedy, and NBC’s Last Comic Standing.

The comedian and actor’s debut comedy special Hijabs Off, released on Amazon on October 24th, is the culmination of her journey thus far. The hour was filmed at the Harlem Stage Gatehouse, a 19th-century structure Johnson passed numerous times growing up in the neighborhood. The taping is notable not just for the historic venue, but also its ambitious set-up; Johnson decided her performance would be recorded in the round, with one camera man holding a Steadicam for the special’s duration. 

“I think there’s something really intimate about recording in the round,” she tells me over Zoom. “I always say that my stand up should feel like I’ve invited you into my living room, you get to hang out with me for a little while, and hopefully, by the end of it, you leave feeling fulfilled and good and you want to come back.”

Johnson also fosters that intimacy by quickly delving into her personal life in Hijabs Off and shedding light on what it’s like being a Black Muslim woman in a family with 13 kids. 

Of course, with so many siblings, plenty of the jokes center on Johnson’s brothers and sisters, like trying to figure out which of them aren’t straight (statistically there should be “two and a q,” as she puts it in Hijabs Off) or bringing her brother to her late night set before remembering he was the subject of her bit. Funnily enough, though, Johnson isn’t considered the jokester of her family. 

“They love me, but they think I’m the most serious person,” Johnson says. “I try to plan vacations with my mom, and she’s like, ‘You know, Zainab,  you’re no fun.’ I’m always the person trying to keep family business in order. I’m like, ‘What are the troubles? Let’s look for the solutions. What are the bills? What are the things we need to improve?’ And everybody’s like, ‘What? We’re trying to have fun and celebrate and just, you know, not think about stuff.’”

Besides her love for her family, pride in her identity, especially her religious identity, is a key element of the special. That pride is clear from the outset when she introduces herself to the audience with “as-salamu alaykum,” an Arabic greeting many Muslims use meaning “peace be upon you.” Johnson gets plenty of laughs poking fun at the “haram police” and the idea of a strip club featuring women in hijabs. 

“Someone who identifies as Jewish or Christian, they have the freedom to joke about their religion, their faith, their people. It may be off limits to every other group, but they do get the freedom to do it themselves. And I find that with Islam, there’s a little bit less of that freedom,” Johnson explains. “And I understand that, because what the world is getting for the most part is this terroristic lens, and so I understand trying to protect the narrative, but I’m also having a very specific experience. I’m culturally a Black woman, a Black American woman, but my faith is Islam, and so that is a very unique existence. And I’m finding through the response to the special that maybe it’s not that unique, after all. There are a lot of people that are like, ‘Thank you so much for putting my life on that stage.’”

Johnson later adds, “I’m just trying to bring ultimately levity to some of what I believe are harder topics.”

One of the most difficult subjects Johnson discusses in the special is pedophilia; Johnson shares a length story from her childhood, about a stranger who lured her to a rooftop and exposed himself to her. Thankfully, Johnson was able to run away before anything else could transpire, but after so many hilarious moments in the set, the reveal leaves audience members gobsmacked. You can see it when watching Hijabs Off: the looks of shock and concern as the crowd realize this anecdote is taking a dark turn. 

When she was preparing for her hour, Johnson knew that she wanted to include this incident in the special, but withheld it when she encountered audiences who seemed too sensitive about far lighter subjects. 

“I’d even say it sometimes, I let them know what they were missing. ‘I wanted to do this pedophile bit, but you guys don’t deserve it,’ I would say, and then they would beg for it,” Johnson recalls. “And I would still make them laugh and never give it to them to the point where I would get messages like, ‘Can you please tell us?’”

Eventually, though, Johnson would practice it even if the audience didn’t seem up for the story, or if she was performing a shorter set where the rooftop incident would be all that she could share with the audience—a risky move in an art form where winning the crowd over is key.

“That is usually not what people get a babysitter for. That’s usually not what people go to a comedy club for, right?” Johnson says. “But people would come up to me, and then they would want to tell me their stories, these things if they hadn’t told anybody in their lives that they felt like I had given them permission to unburden themselves.” 

Bearing witness to others’ painful experiences was initially discomfiting for Johnson. She continues, “I’m not Oprah, I don’t want to do this. And then I was like, ‘Well, that’s kind of unfair. I’m asking them to hold this thing that I give them, you know, and so it’s so unfair.’ So I have to just take take it, and whatever they say: ‘I really didn’t feel like hearing that tonight,’ or, ‘That was the best thing I heard tonight.’ Both of those things, I had to make them equally valid.”

While Johnson has been praised for sharing such a vulnerable story, she says the next part of the special is actually when she feels most unsettled. In Hijabs Off, she lets the heaviness of the story sit, admitting that she couldn’t come up with a goof to top the seriousness of the moment. It’s a move I admire, because as much as laughing our way through the shitty parts of life is essential, there are some things that can’t be joked away.

“As comedians, we want you to believe we can make anything funny. But actually, I try, and there’s been nights where I have killed with some of the tags that I’ve written for [the pedophile story], and then there’s nights where people were like, ‘I’m still stuck. I am feeling for you as a child’… And I had to not ignore that,” Johnson admits.

Johnson doesn’t have to worry about letting the story sink in, though, because the rest of Hijabs Off serves up more than enough laughs. In fact, that solemnity makes the special even more like being in your friend’s living room than perhaps Johnson realized: Not every second will be joyful, but when it comes time to leave, you’re still looking forward to the next moment you’ll share.

Zainab Johnson: Hijabs Off is now streaming on Amazon Prime.

Clare Martin is a cemetery enthusiast and Paste’s assistant comedy editor. Go harass her on Twitter @theclaremartin.