Comedian Atsuko Okatsuka is Fathering and Freaking Out Over Finding Her ‘True Self’.
Lessons from Atsuko's recent live comedy show, Full Grown, in Melbourne.
^She’s bodacious, gracious and outrageous.
For those who are yet to be acquainted with the joyous, whip-smart, everyday comedic stylings of American-Taiwanese-Japanese comedian, actress and writer, Atsuko Okatsuka, this is your sign to actively seek out her comedy special The Intruder and devour it immediately.
I first discovered Atsuko during one of my most debilitatingly anxious periods of my recent life. When I say watching her special healed me, I mean it. I hadn’t escaped my mind in dozens of days, nor had I giggled in a way that made me forget about the anxious vortex holding my brain and body captive. Atsuko did that.
You can read more about Atsuko and her comedy in Vanity Fair here.
So when Atsuko Okatsuka announced she was bringing her new live comedy show Full Grown to Melbourne, there was no doubt in my mind that I was going to immerse myself in the full ‘Atsuko Experience’ - meet and greet and front row seat.
^One front row ticket, please.
The venue for her comedy show was an odd one - The Palms at Crown. Between the promotion of old country, 80s pop and classic rock tribute shows, iconic Aussie impersonators and sexy vampire cabaret shows is nestled Atsuko Okatsuka’s stand-up show. One of these is certainly not like the other.
Upon entering The Palms, I am taken aback over a decade previous, to the time my mum, dad, aunty, uncle, two cousins and I saw the real, non-tribute, classic rockstar, Alice Cooper live - in the flesh - complete with guillotine stage setup, chicken re-enactment (if you know, you know) and Cooper’s custom American dollar bills floating down from the ceiling like confetti.
^He’s poison (in pleather).
It is abundantly evident that the golden curtains and mahogany-toned swirling carpet, amongst other triggering things, have not changed since the 90s. I did, however, forget that the seating layout is part floor seating, part open booth mode, which certainly lends itself to a stand-up comedy show like this, in a way.
The venue becomes somewhat irrelevant though when the joyous Atsuko enters the stage to Charlie XCX’s recent track ‘360’. Amping up the crowd, she teases us with subtle motions that gesture she may, at any moment, break into some sort of dance with some of her cute, artful deflection. Next second, the boogie takes over and she goes full TikTok hip-hop on us to rapturous cheer and applause.
Atsuko Okatsuka is memorable for so many reasons. Of course, her distinctive bowl cut, fantastically expressive face and bodacious colour-blocking fashion choices are the most visible characteristics that folks equally marvel at and remember.
She will be the first to tell you that she is on this earth to bring the vibes.
And bring the vibes, she does, without fail.
However, for those who are familiar with her stories, experiences and comedic stylings, they will also tell you that what makes her noteworthy and influential today is her masterful ability to make everyday things - from the frivolous to the frustratingly socio-and-gender-political - genuinely funny and irreverent.
Atsuko’s ability to satirise her life experiences, while subtly making substantial statements on the whacky ways of the world, family and the inherent challenges of being a grown-up, is truly second-to-none.
The comedian regaled us with her immigation story, and how she realised she was technically kidnapped by her grandmother for 25 years. This was after a two-week trip to Los Angeles became a four-week, then four-month, then 25-year trip, that when she confronted her grandma about her alleged, highly privileged in hindsight, kidnapping, her grandma openly and unflinchingly affirmed it. This story led to the story of her marriage, and hdue to the failure to lodge their marriage certificate saw her be undocumented in America not once, but twice in her lifetime.
She shared with audiences how segments of her fan base always tell her that she is Mothering, which Urban Dictionary will tell you is a term gifted to a female who is serving icon, is slaying at what she’s doing or what she’s wearing and is deserving of the utmost praise and adoration. It is a gendered term born out of the conventional multitasking mother, giver of life, now rebranded in the current pop-cultural zeitgeist.
Instead, Atsuko tells us that she identifies far more with the idea of Fathering. She is the one in her marriage who cannot and does not use the washing machine, who strategically follows her husband Ryan around the house while he cleans and she pretends to look busy or like she’s helping (when she’s just moving things around to his frustration) and feigns outrage and dismay when her fellow married friends complain about their husbands not doing the washing and cleaning, while realising secretly ‘I am the husband’ and returning home to her Fathering ways.
^Atsuko and her husband, Ryan.
A lot of what makes Atsuko’s comedy joyous and consistently giggly, is equally found in her physical storytelling as much as it is found what she doesn’t say or tell.
She regaled us with stories from her cheerleading years, and how cheerleading for a team that lost every single week, every single season made her realise that we all need to be a cheerleader in life, across a broad spectrum from the most boring, mundane things that we need to do daily, through to saving a human life on a plane alongside a doctor. The clincher? She says we should be cheerleaders even if it means telling lies, because we all need positive reinforcement. Brilliant.
Perhaps the most relatable story arc for many of us, was her unwavering belief that in life and love you have to find someone who can willingly and authentically ‘match your freak’.
For Atusko, this was exhibited by the story she told about her morning wake-up ‘tummy marinate’ routine that she partakes in every day with her husband. This was ironically contrasted with a recent terrifying realisation when she was prompted to pose as her ‘true self’ in public.
Uncovered when someone in a group photo was giving directions for poses like ‘do something funny’ and ‘do something serious’, thrusted an off-the-cuff ‘ok just be yourself’ directive for the group, resulted in Atsuko entering immediate, internalised panic, throwing her leg out to the side and a perplexed facial expression. What followed the retelling of this awkward and confronting encounter was a hilarious, yet surprisingly contemplative realisation that so many of us really do not who we are deep down, let alone feel willing or know how to be ourselves and share our ‘freak’ authentically and meaningfully in front of others.
This was then followed up with some good-old audience participation. Back on the Fathering train, Atsuko admitted to audiences that she doesn’t know what she would do for work if she wasn’t a comedian, or a cheerleader. She poignantly shared that when we are born, we all start out as artists. As kids, we scribble, we draw, we paint, and our houses become museums that are home to the drawings and paintings that illustrate our early years, only for all that artistry and whimsy to go down the plughole when we grow up, get a ‘real job’ and become ‘consultants’.
Fortuitously, a ‘health consultant’ was seated next to me in the front row. An excited Atsuko wanted to hear about a day in the life of someone with a ‘real job’, only to be told by my seat neighbour that he really had no idea what he was doing as a health consultant, and that each day he would wake up, turn on his laptop, type-type-type, pick up the phone, and then chat with his friends.
Atsuko’s physical re-enactment of type-type-type, call-call-call, was a delightfully jovial piss-take on consultant life, which lead her to posit that so many of us really do not know what we do in our day to day work and personal lives.
And isn’t that the truth?
There are many lessons to be learned from Atsuko Okatsuka in her latest live comedy show Full Grown, and the way she comedically and creatively redefines the femme gaze:
Everyone has childhood trauma. You can either embrace it, work with it, or ignore it and let it eat away at you.
Mothering is fabulous in pop-culture, but Fathering is a way that we can challenge conventional gender-stereotypes and expectations whether we are a famous comedian, or an everyday woman. Thank you for participating and showing us, Ryan.
We all need a cheerleader, a hype person and someone in our life that can motivate us, cheer us on and give us positive reinforcement, even if they have to lie to us to have greater impact. They should cheer us on for things big and small.
We all need to be a cheerleader and a hype person for someone in our life, even if it means lying to them for the greater good. We should cheer people on for things big and small.
We all begin as artists.
Embracing your ‘freak’ is hard, finding someone who can ‘match your freak’ is likely harderm but there has to be someone out there who can. Keep going.
Being your true self, understanding who and what your true self is, is scary, hard work. But it’s worth it, because it’s how we find our people, and finding our people and our community is important.
It’s okay to not know what you’re doing, that’s all part of being a grown up.
If you need a reminder of where you came from, remember, as we all start out as artists, its how we evolve, and choose to shape our professional and personal lives. We can be consultants, creatives, both or something entirely different.
If unsure or uncertain of anything, dance it out.
Fangirling Moments: Here’s Atsuko and I paying homage to my previous experience at The Palms, watching classic rockstar Alice Cooper.
And here’s Atsuko, myself and my friend Kat pretending to go to Prom together.
Atsuko, I adore and admire you in equal measure.
- Toyah