"Everything's dark until you illuminate it"

What Chris Fleming understands about the revolutionary power of self-expression

I watched a video a few days ago that I can’t get out of my mind.

The comedian Chris Fleming, who has recently rocketed to stardom after enjoying over a decade of fiercely loyal, niche fandom among ex-theater kids and “girls who brought a knife to prom”, was recently run through the NPR press carousel for a variety of 1:1 interviews about his recently released 1-hour HBO special, Chris Fleming: Live at the Palace¹. Mid-way through an hour-long interview with Rachel Martin of Wild Card, she asks Fleming, “are there any recurring symbols that show up in your life?” As he moves to answer the question, he is suddenly struck with a memory of his mother that brings him to tears. He is visibly overwhelmed by emotion, too choked up to speak, and both interviewer and subject can be seen glancing patiently, a bit nervously at each other as Chris takes a few moments to collect himself, wipes his eyes, then jokingly bats back to his interviewer: “let me flip it; what about you?” ²

And then, surprisingly, Martin takes his invitation, and shares back. Her eyes glitter with tears as she speaks about her own association with her late mother and seagulls. Chris’ eyes light up as he listens to her; suddenly he’s the interviewer, and he delights in his subject and his role in receiving her vulnerability. The topic isn’t anything groundbreaking—two people sharing the significance of birds in evoking the memory of their mothers, living and dead—but that is part of what I love about it. They aren’t trying to be impressive, edgy, or quotable; they are trying to connect with each other. I can’t help but connect with them, too, tears brimming as I think of my mother, who thinks of her mother when she sees a cardinal, and the way I think of her every time I see one, and the way I know that I will always think of my mother when I see one, even after she is long gone from this earth. Watching this video, I feel myself seated at the table between the subject and the listener, comforted by the warmth and attunement the two are exchanging not because they have to, but because they want to. The comments under this video are full of viewers sharing stories just like Chris’, Rachel’s and mine, a beautiful moment of collective recognition between strangers that reminds me that the Internet (and the world outside it) isn’t always such a terrible place as it often seems.

While this interview was originally recorded for radio, the video is a gift to watch, filmed in focused close-ups that almost simulate eye contact with the viewer, allowing the audience to see and feel the care and attunement shared between these two people, who suddenly seem so much more real and whole to me than they did before this exchange. Not only do I come away from the video liking these two people more; I come away feeling that my capacity for empathy has expanded. These aren’t uncommon moments in my line of work—I’m a relational therapist— but they are extraordinary. For many people in American society they are exceedingly rare to experience or see, especially between two public figures, on the record, in the world we live in today.

I have been a devoted fan of Fleming’s stand-up for many years, but it wasn’t until his recent surge in publicity that I’ve had a chance to see him interact with people offstage. He is undeniably funny in every conversation, and disarmingly sincere. While giving himself a pep talk before his appearance on the Drew Barrymore show (which was perhaps the most important daytime talk show moment since Tom Cruise jumped on Oprah’s couch³) he says nervously to the backstage cameras, “this one’s about connection,” which doesn’t really seem to be an anomaly for his press appearances. Inevitably, by minute two of the interview Chris and Drew are kiki-ing like two drunk girls in a parking lot, riffing on each other’s bits, climbing the furniture, even sharing a kiss that left the studio audience wondering, will there be a second date?. But even in interviews with less receptive or playful hosts, he finds a way through the labyrinth of network-sponsored smoke and mirrors to allow himself to shine through. From the minute he sits on the couch, he starts learning the rules of the game, then immediately breaks them to suit his needs. He is clearly having the time of his life. Who in their right minds wouldn’t join in, or at least laugh along?

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“The role of the artist is to make the revolution irresistible.”

- Tony Cade Bambara

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As far as I know, Chris Fleming has never made any public statements about himself or his work that I would describe as explicitly political. However, no one can deny that his comedy carries a surgically precise assessment of the cruelty, chaos, and banality of American society in 2026 that would be bitter to swallow in a different package. From Trader Joe’s recalls to celebrity Subway Takes to charting the path of The Sapphic Meridian, his astute observations connect such seemingly unconnectable dots that they land more like the revelations of an astrologer divining pop culture prophecy from the stars. On a more personal level, his existence, and success, makes its own statement, from his flamboyant, drag-adjacent wardrobe to his cheerful self-flagellation, described in Rolling Stone as “an interpretative dance-heavy trip through one person’s notes app list of intrusive thoughts.⁴” Through his exuberant flaunting of his greatest potential sources of shame and humiliation, Fleming beckons us to cross the threshold with him, reveling in our own unique flaws and vulnerabilities together, coming out “cleansed” and lighter on the other side.

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“Nothing I accept about myself can be used against me to diminish me. I am who I am, doing what I came to do, acting upon you like a drug or a chisel to remind you of your me-ness, as I discover you in myself.”

- Audre Lorde

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As he leads his audience through this collective humiliation ritual, Chris lays bare a truth that more and more artists, comedians, politicians, activists, and ordinary people in America are waking up to— authenticity is scary, but it’s how we get free! When we can push past shame and truly accept ourselves as we are, we are unstoppable! When the viewers at home can watch a mystical, genderless being dressed like Bonnaroo Big Bird run screaming across the soundstage of Jimmy Kimmel and be hit not with a tranquilizer dart, but a wall of raucous applause—how can we deny that our chains exist only in our minds? How can we deny that we are only as free as we choose to be—and that perhaps, freeing ourselves might be the key to freeing us all?

Many of history’s most principled revolutionaries never used such a term to describe themselves; they just did what felt like the right thing to do, and did it with great consistency. In his recent interview with PBS American Masters, Chris describes his creative process simply as “…like a lantern that’s right in front of you, and you’re just following in the dark… everything’s dark until you illuminate it.” This deferential, somewhat Zen answer deflects any further acknowledgement of the immense skill, courage, and discipline it takes for any human being to actually do this. To publicly, sincerely attempt to share one’s inner world with others, exactly as you see it; to blaze a path toward the truth, with the hope that others will follow, risking the heart-shattering possibility that they might choose not to: this is radical honesty in practice, and its transformative power is on display in every one of Chris Fleming’s public performances and interviews.

Activists, community workers, and political organizers around the country are currently clamoring for more effective tactics to lead the American people out of the impending Dark Ages and into a future that is more just, more free, more loving, more abundant, more joyful, more creative. Many feel impotent, out of ideas, tired from years of fighting a monster that keeps respawning with new heads. The old shame-based political tactics are not working (if they ever did) and it feels like Americans are lying to ourselves and being lied to about just about everything, from news headlines to deepfakes to public school curriculum to the Met Gala to the viability of AOC as the 2028 Democratic presidential nominee. It’s quaint that anyone is still writing about the 2028 presidential election. It’s only a few degrees removed from running a 24-hour loop of Swan Lake on CNN. From politics to pop culture, a sea change is occurring, as more Americans finally begin to look behind the curtain, to turn around and see what’s casting the shadows on the cave wall. More and more, people are taking action to resist this death march toward the convenient, the cheap, the artificial, the synthetic, the homogenous, and the repressed toward a more authentic way of living and relating to each other, back toward what we know is real. In comedians like Chris Fleming, I see a rare, embodied commitment to authenticity, humanity, joy, and compassion, a bravery that invites others to be brave. I hope he continues to succeed, and that success doesn’t dull his spark too much. I hope his rising star is a harbinger of a Renaissance of radical honesty in our art, our culture, our politics, and our relationships with each other.

A personal post-script: I have had a Substack account since 2023. I have six followers. (Thanks, y’all.) Before posting this essay, I had only made two other posts, short poems, despite the fact that I have over 17 essays in my drafts, and dozens of others floating around on my computer, about all kinds of topics. This was the one I finished first. I started it two days ago. Maybe this essay is just the culmination of all the essays I’ve been trying to write for all these years. It feels a little bizarre that it all seems to have converged around watching Chris Fleming cry about his mom on NPR. But, to paraphrase Fleming later in the same interview, sometimes another person’s encouragement provides the inertia we need to complete the somersault. Maybe my publishing this will send a little ripple of encouragement out to someone else who needs it, until we create a giant infinite Rube Goldberg machine of people helping each other become the kind of people we each want to be, and were all meant to be. That, to me, is the definition of collective liberation. It needs front-line workers, educators, caregivers, journalists, advocates. But my God, does it also need artists. When I watch Chris Fleming speak, I feel the magic of the artist working in me, activating my imagination, bolstering my courage, naming things I didn’t have a name for before but now can speak to, or learn more about, or fight back against. I feel inspired to express myself again. I remember what being an artist used to do for me, and what I used to believe it could do for others. I feel ready to reclaim it as an identity and a practice. So if this whole essay feels like a giant thinly-veiled fan letter to Chris Fleming, it most certainly is. May we all seek opportunities to see and be seen by others, even when it would be safer for both of us to stay hidden. May we all live our truth with such conviction that we inspire others to do the same.

1. somewhat recently— I just emerged from under a rock that I have been hibernating under since January 2026. More on that in a future essay.

2. Chris Fleming’s moment has come, but it took time for culture to catch up : Wild Card with Rachel Martin : NPR, posted March 12, 2026.

3. Chris Fleming and Drew Barrymore Bond Over Body Suits and Physical Comedy , The Drew Barrymore Show, posted April 25, 2026.

4. Chris Fleming on His HBO Special and Why Stand-Up Is 'Embarrassing' by CT Jones : Rolling Stone, posted February 28, 2026.