Anyone who’s taken even one acting class has probably come across The Actor’s Vow, written by Elia Kazan, a man who won multiple Best Director Oscars:
I will take my rightful place on the stage and I will be myself. I am not a cosmic orphan. I have no reason to be timid.
I will respond as I feel; awkwardly, vulgarly, but respond. I will have my throat open, I will have my heart open, I will be vulnerable. I may have anything or everything the world has to offer, but the thing I need most, and want most, is to be myself.
I will admit rejection, admit pain, admit frustration, admit even pettiness, admit shame, admit outrage, admit anything and everything that happens to me.
The best and most human parts of me are those that I have inhabited and hidden from the world. I will work on it. I will raise my voice. I will be heard.
Given all the things the famed director wants you to admit — rejection, pain, frustration, shame, outrage — only one gets a qualifier. Since I first read it when I arrived in LA nearly 20 years ago, that has always stood out to me.
Admit. Even. Pettiness.
What is pettiness?
According to the Oxford dictionary, it’s “a woman's light, loose undergarment hanging from the shoulders or the waist, worn under a skirt or dress.” Oh, wait. That’s a petticoat. Here it is.
I can certainly understand why that’s hard to admit. I’d imagine nobody wants to be thought of as “small-minded.” In fact, many of us pride ourselves on going higher… doing a deep dive… zooming out to the grand scheme of things…. focusing on the big picture. Not getting stuck in the muck and mire of the mundane.
Years ago, a fellow comedian told me a story. To protect his innocence, let’s call him Gunther. Gunther had opened for comedians Russell Peters and Dane Cook. Peters is known for his generosity, often layering extra cash and gifts on top of what the club or theater earmarked for his MC and feature acts. (I still rock a pair of Air Jordans he bought me in Washington, D.C.) One day, Gunther mentioned to Cook what it was like to open for Peters. Apparently, Cook was stingy and didn’t go far out of his way to take care of Gunther or any of his other non-Gunther openers. Now, was there an ulterior motive? Maybe. But even as I pressed Gunther about his tone, he insisted it was an offhand remark. I can vouch for Gunther. I believe in Gunther.
So offended was Cook that, for months, he’d call around Los Angeles to find out when Gunther was booked and then show up right before his time slot and drop an hour to “bump” Gunther out of all of his spots. He did this a lot. For a long time. When I told this story to my friend, Mike K., without missing a beat, he replied, “Wow, that’s really small of him.”
I couldn’t stop laughing. Naturally, Mike K. meant the opposite of “that’s really big of him.” Before or since, I’ve never heard it used that way. But wasn’t that what it was? It was incredibly, inconceivably, incomprehensibly small-minded.
Oh, by the way, I used “Dane Cook” when I meant “Dane Cook.” I said I’d protect the innocent. Cook isn’t innocent. And you can’t spell mundane without dane.
I Put the Pain in Campaign
I would hope there’s never been a time in my life that I’ve acted in this manner. But if I’m being completely honest — which is what (some of) you are paying me for…
— then I do have to fess up to what I’m about to tell you.
I’m going to tell you a story. You already know the moral. You know I’m going to end by telling you that I remembered to focus on the important things in life. To zoom out to the big picture to achieve my state of being gruntled. But it’s one thing to know and it’s another thing to do. And the reality is that many of us get caught up in things we shouldn’t, even though we know they’re bad for us. As such, hopefully my own downward spiral will resonate with you. And I’m curious: Can you think of an example for when you felt slighted? How did it affect you? How did you come to terms with it? What did you learn?
In the autumn of 2022, the White House threw a Diwali event. A very large Diwali event that included the who’s who of the Desi (South Asian) community… Mindy Kaling. Lilly Singh. Jay Shetty. Kal Penn.
And that’s fine. The part that hurt was the fact that there were throngs of people who aren’t even on the D-list with me and/or didn’t do nearly as much as I’d done for this Administration.
Let’s unpack that sentence.
What’s the D-list? Kathy Griffin’s show’s title was hilarious, but sorry, honey, you’re pretty darned close to a B-lister. Here’s my theory, anyway: an A-list celebrity is a global household name. If we had to measure that in 21st Century currency — social media — an A-lister probably has a following or subscriber count in the tens of millions. We can infer down from there:
Kathy Griffin has around 750K on Instagram, so yeah, a B-lister.
What did I do for this Administration? I can tell you exactly because I virtually campaigned to attend the 2023 version of that Diwali party.
The first couple of weeks after the 2022 get-together were rough for me. I wouldn’t say I was depressed, but I was very down over not receiving an invitation. Instead of curling up into a ball, though, I rolled up my sleeves. Let’s dream big: How can I myself get there next year? Could that be me amongst those celebrities? Is it possible for me to work so hard that I’M the most famous person in that room?
I researched who all attended (“research” consisting of doom-scrolling on Instagram to pick out shots of people whose faces I recognized) and contacted them. Every single person expressed shock that I wasn’t invited.
“But you’ve done so much for these people!”
“You’re, like, the most politically involved person I know.”
“You would’ve been the hottest one there. I wanna see YOU in a petticoat.”
OK, maybe not that last one. However, I gotta say that was a good start, as opposed to, “Why would they want YOU to attend anyway?”
As the days wore on, I apologized to my wife:
“Harsha, I’m sorry. I know this is pathetic. I’m a grown-ass man in my FORTIES worried about being invited to some party. I just want you to know I know how stupid this is.”
For the millionth time, Harsha showed why she’s my wife:
“It’s not stupid. You’re justifiably upset. You HAVE done a lot for these people. And your profession is based on glamor. I get why it hurts you not to be there.”
She got some that night.
Naturally, “appreciate” is too formal a word for what I felt for her. I was touched beyond belief. All of what she said was true. This is Brand Building 101. Being there IS good for business.
I reminded her that’s one of the biggest reasons I made that last-minute decision to go to the Super Bowl a few months earlier. My friends hit me with:
“How can YOU not go? The Cincinnati Bengals are playing in Los Angeles. You are MR. CINCINNATI-TO-LA.”
Harsha didn’t buy that analogy. Maybe it was the fact that I went to the big game without telling her. Or the $4,500 price tag. Or that I caught an Uber to SoFi Stadium with Vivek Ramaswamy. Despite all of that, Harsha was still supportive of my mood. And I love that for us.
But it’s still pathetic. And you know what else? It felt petty.
After three kind people offered to submit my name for the 2023 celebrations, I narrowed it down to Gurwin Singh Ahuja. My fellow Punjabi worked overtime, using some well–placed connections to get me in. As part of that, I submitted this letter.
And I got in. The only thing is the 2023 version was nowhere near what the 2022 version was.
I Was Here Last Week
When I worked as a buyer at P&G, hundreds of salespeople tried to hock various things to me. Mostly end-aisle display cases and corrugated paper. But also ideas. I wish I could remember who this was, but a particularly charismatic salesman told me he had an idea for a book. It would be called I Was Here Last Week.
“You know how every single time you go to a resort and the pool is closed and the weather is rainy and the food is clearly repurposed based on excess supply, you always hear the same thing? ‘You should’ve been here last week.’ Well, my story is that I’m the guy who’s ahead of the curve. I was here last week.”
Come September, word on the street spread that the White House wasn’t going to reprise the Diwali event because of the turmoil in the Middle East. After all, Diwali fell on November 12th; the October 7th attack had just happened. Many accepted this explanation, but it really didn’t make any sense given that Diwali is a Hindu holiday. The real reason is that Desi support for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris had cratered since the bulk of their support went to Israel instead of the Palestinians. (Don’t worry: I won’t get into politics here. But if you want my political rant, check out my comment*.) It didn’t take long before poet Rupi Kaur lashed out at the event.
This precipitated a domino effect, with almost every single Desi celebrity pulling out. In the end, though it was a good party and with absolutely all due respect to Gurwin and the organizers, it took place not at the White House but at the Vice President’s Residence. Ms. Harris spoke for a mere seven minutes and took no photos with us. And I probably really was the most famous person in that room. Except it wasn’t even a room. We were outside on the lawn.
I couldn’t help but snicker at how the old adage…
May You Get What You Wish For
…had come true. The gods were laughing. That’s what you get when you focus on the wrong things.
“You play stupid games. You win stupid prizes.” - Taylor Swift
(She wasn’t the first one to say that. She also didn’t win the Super Bowl. But she kinda did.)
Many of the conversations at the gathering revolved around two things: the lack of attendance and which other parties we were invited to. Ugh. Oh, my gosh. I’d never felt so icky in my life — and I did telemarketing for a summer. Though it might’ve been worth it for the one person who pointed out that Rupi Kaur isn’t even American; she’s Canadian.
The Guide to What Matters
Given the months I’ve had to gather some perspective on the entire experience, here’s what I learned. I told you I’d end with a “focus on what’s important” message. Indeed, some of you will read this and dismiss all of it as stupid.
“That’s right: ‘focus on what’s important’ and move on with your life. It’s a slippery slope. Who cares if you’re not invited or if they throw a worse or an even better party next year?”
But I’m not gonna say that. OK, I am gonna say that. However, I’m not gonna say only that. It’s not nuanced enough. “Slippery slope” isn’t helpful here. Of course, most of Hollywood is B.S. But not all of it. There’s still art, connection, self-discovery. Kazan’s quote is true. He didn’t say you shouldn’t have pettiness. He said you should admit it.
Attending that party — the 2022 version anyway — isn’t meaningless. So, how do we decide what’s petty and what’s not? To discern between the trivial and the nontrivial, the nonessential and the essential, the inconsequential and the consequential?
1.
Step one has been right there all along: Admit even pettiness. I’m a firm believer that we’re all feeling all of the emotions all of the time. Everything’s in there, man: you’re always a little glad, a little sad, a little mad. A little disgusted, a little jealous, a little grateful. It’s just that different emotions peak at different times. When the Cincinnati Bengals win, I’m momentarily ecstatic. All other emotions seem to fade away, but hey, they’re still there. You’re never really over anything. You carry it all till the end. You’re human. And part of being human is being petty. Even Buddhist monks experience negative emotions. When I asked my TM Guru if he got angry, he replied, “I feel anger. What I’ve learned is how to express it better.” In acting class, we used the phrase, “Allow it to be there.” Acknowledge it.
2.
Don’t start by asking, “WHY am I feeling this way?” Ask, “WHAT am I feeling?” I read that in Psychology Today. WHY is a value judgment. Can’t you already feel your stress level go up when you read WHY? WHAT is more exploratory. It allows you to scribble down or say aloud your thoughts without fear of worrying about the reasons.
3.
Ask why. Ha. Yo, at some point, ya gotta start digging. You can do this by developing your own set of principles in ranked order.
4.
Reword and reorder those principles as necessary, being as honest as possible. As they say, “It’s not a principle until it costs you something.” So, be honest about what’s bothering you.
Here are my principles — subject to change as I live life:
A. Faith. B. Family. C. Fitness. D. Friends. E. Finances.
Placing Family and then Friends and then Finances should be fairly straightforward. In most conflicts, whether consciously or not, people will follow the Bedouin saying:
“Me against my brother. Me and my brother against my cousin. Me and my cousin against a stranger.”
I’ve learned when it comes to money, it’s better to lose a few dollars but keep a few friends. Sure, you can argue over who ate what at dinner, but it’s better to split the bill, realizing that it all evens out over time.
The tougher part is Faith and Fitness. By faith, I mean doing the right thing. By fitness, I mean your own mental, emotional, and physical health. I get migraine headaches, and though I work very hard not to overcommit myself, in my middle age I’ve learned sometimes I need to skip that cocktail hour and go to bed early.
5.
Whenever you feel that pang of pettiness, figure out which of your priorities it’s bumping up against. Faith? Family? The higher up it is on our list, the more important — the less petty — it is. If it’s none of them, then one of two things is true: either there’s something that is important to you that’s not on your list, so you should update it. Or… boom… it’s trivial.
The Vow
The reason the Diwali party non-invite vexed me so much was because of Finances. As a public figure, being in those pictures does affect my Brand Building. It adds something to my social currency. After all, it’s social media. Those comments, likes, and shares matter. They’re all part of building your brand equity. Years ago, when Eva Longoria asked me for a picture, my social currency at the Hollywood Laugh Factory increased. Two nights ago, at another comedy show in Hollywood, when Jay Shetty pulled me in for a hug, my social currency spiked. That’s borrowed equity: someone sharing their equity with you.
(Kinda like how it dipped just now when I told you about it. But that’s not petty, it’s Shetty.)
DID it lead to more gigs? Tough to measure but not impossible. When I’m booked for shows, I listen really hard for why people booked me. And sometimes, they’ll say they saw me with so-and-so. That might have led to awareness of me or that might’ve actually closed the deal.
Here’s the problem, though. Yes, not being present at that party might’ve affected my Finances. But it definitely affected my Faith — the spirit of the season — and my Family, as I gave more importance to hanging with strangers than spending time with my wife and son. Therefore, my system above does work: those are my principles and it was indeed petty for me to worry about that stupid party.
Not to mention, all this stuff is the exact opposite of what comedians do. Comedians don’t care about getting invited to parties. (Out of the 200 attendees in 2022, I counted… one.) We are supposed to stand outside of the community. Removed from society’s rules. We’re askew, askance, to the side like the court jester or Kramer to the Soup Nazi. The rules don’t apply to us. That’s why I went into this field. Not to hang my self-worth on an electronic invitation. I didn’t leave everything I know back in Ohio to get invited to parties, for Pete’s sake. I came here to work on my craft, to be respected as a professional standup comic. In fact, being in the picture actually makes you part of the establishment. Which comedian has ever wanted that? As a male comedian, I’m supposed to be a Man of the People. Not buying Prada shoes to go rub elbows with CEOs at a reception. WTF, dude? The word “cool” is tough to define (even harder than “petticoat”) but the one aspect that never changes is “individuality.” Doing what YOU want to do and not giving a damn what others think. Not even your community, which by the way, was never the approval I sought.
I may not be able to match The Actor’s Vow with The Comedian’s Vow, but you have my word that, from here on out, I endeavor to never worry about being invited to a party, a club, or an organization. In fact, though I totally support the work that The Salon is doing for the Desi community, I actually asked to be removed from it a few weeks ago. I applaud their work and wish them well. But after seeing the damage that exclusivity did to me, I can only imagine what it’s doing to people not blessed with the support network I have. Strike that. I don’t have to imagine. I had a number of people text me and pull me aside to lament the fact that they weren’t invited to Diwali 2022, either. As such, I need to do my part and not be a… party to this. My part is to not contribute to this mental health crisis. I will continue to build inclusive projects, inclusive organizations, and inclusive groups.
I will work on it. I will raise my voice. I will be heard.
I will aim to care much less what others think.
But please comment, like, and share.
*I said politics are outside the scope of this post, but what I’m about to say is more about the social and the cultural. And if you’re not up for a rant, then by all means, skip this paragraph. First off, I hate the national conversation. I can’t stand everyone’s takes on everything. Covid and the vaccines. The Middle Eastern conflict. Biden & Trump. These subjects keep bringing out the worst in people. As I scroll through Facebook and Instagram — something I’m proud to say I’m doing much less of this year — I’m appalled by the arrogance and the ignorance people seem to wear like badges. Rupi Kaur is a moron. To protest against a war between Jews and Muslims by disregarding your own heritage is just plain stupid. Rest assured no other religion will do that for Hindus. Jews aren’t gonna not celebrate Hanukkah, Muslims aren’t gonna ditch Ramadan, and Christians sure as hell (sure as heaven?) aren’t gonna cancel Christmas. And they shouldn’t. And can’t you see the irony? After all the advocacy for the queer community and your stance against all things binary, you did the most binary thing ever. Things aren’t simply black and white. Grow up. The Administration is large and Earth is a big place. All the celebrities who followed her “lead,” such as it was, are the same who scream about representation, and then… don’t show up when invited to the table? What is that? You removed your own voice from the mix. It was a huge step backward for — what’s that word you’re always yelling? - identity. You really think, after that huge black eye you gave them, they’re gonna be jumping up and down next year to invite us all back? AND you’re the same ones who proclaimed that any criticism of the first Black female vice president was bigoted and then suddenly abandoned her? That’s not the way change happens. Change happens not with an either/or mindset but with a both/and mindset: both celebrating your culture and standing up for what you believe in. How’d that work out for ya, by the way? Skipping that party really softened America’s stance on Israeli support, huh? And another thing, you phony baloney: you attended last year! You got the glitz and the glamor, soaked up all the adulation, paraded around in your designer outfits, and hobnobbed with the President… and then made yourself sound like a martyr when it was in the grass at the Vice President’s house. You were there last week.