The Last Black Unicorn

by Tiffany Haddish

all my wins are lessons and all my failures are lessons that will one day become wins.

They’d be trying to like take care of me, getting me paper towels and stuff. It made them care about me. Hurting myself made them stop hurting me and care about me.

Now, it seems crazy that I could not read or write. My memory was really good, so it didn’t make no sense. I just couldn’t read. You know what it was? I just didn’t believe I could. I thought I was stupid. Before high school, I was told I was stupid every day. My stepdad used to tell me I was stupid all the time. My mama said it every day. My grandma sometimes. Definitely other kids at school. I believed I was stupid, so I guess I just didn’t think I could do it. I never tried.

I became an “energy producer” at Bar Mitzvahs. Energy producer is what white suburban people call a “hype man.” I was basically the Flava Flav of Bar Mitzvahs.

That’s why I think my life turned out as good as it has. Because all the time, I’m just trying to have fun.

“He’s ashamed of himself, because he left you when you were three, did nothing for you, and you ended up being very

successful without him, and then you buy him stuff. You are not only a better person than he is, but you are kind and responsible where he is not, and you’re providing where he did not. Not just as his child, but as a woman, providing for him. Your goodness holds up a mirror to his ugliness, and that is too painful for him, so he has to project this onto you, by saying you make him feel less about himself. It’s nothing you did. It’s guilt.”

I’d rather go to hell and die without a baby on Earth, suffering, than have a baby here on Earth that suffered. That ain’t right.

“Every man is going to think of you as property. That’s why they want to put they last name on your name. Then you’re their property. So you want to make sure whoever you

end up with knows how to maintain their property. See yourself as a house. You have to view yourself as the house on the highest part of the hill. You can’t let everybody come into your house. They can’t catch no bus to your house. They can’t ride no bike to your house. They got to have a nice car with four-wheel drive to get up to your house.”

“Don’t be telling people everything that you’re doing, because motherfuckers will try to make you fail. Just do your shit. You ain’t gotta tell everybody you got a movie. Just do the fucking movie, Tiffany. Like don’t tell people where you’re at, because they’re going to come for you. They’re going to come for you. Because people will be trying to do bad stuff. They think bad thoughts, and they jealous, and they will try to fuck you up.”

“Is this how y’all rich people stay thin, y’all just eat like, a bite of food and that’s it? $30 for one bite? That’s insane.”

Will Smith came running out the hotel like he’s in Bad Boys 7 and he jumped in the back seat of my car.

My goal is to get enough money to buy a duplex. I want to put her in one of the units and hire a full-time nurse to take care of her. Then, I want to get her on whatever medications they gave her when she was in Norwalk, so she can be my mama again. Honestly, that’s all I really want from life.

“This is my Martin Luther King bag. The lock fell off, so it’s free at last. Get it?”

Tiffany: “That sounds fun, but how we gonna book a ticket this late? It’ll be too expensive. And I bet first class is filled up.” Jada: “Book a ticket? Girl, we’re taking a private jet to LA.”

Jada: “Get a better dress.” She sent me all these links to these designer dresses, but they’re like $500. Tiffany: “Jada, I feel very fly in my $85 dress.”

Poor mindset can work when you’re poor, but it doesn’t work well when you have a little money (I emphasize a little—I’m far from rich). I know this, but honestly, part of me still feels like I could end up homeless again at any point in time, and then all I’m

going to have is a bag with a dog on it. And I don’t want that. I’d rather have the money.

My father just died on May 13, 2017. I’m looking at him right now, his cremated remains, as I write this. He’s in a priority mail box, sitting on my dresser.

I just know that I married a man who promised to find my daddy. I got ten years with my dad. I learned a lot, but I also feel like he punked out on me.

“Hey, I would like to work with you one day.” Producer: “Ha, yeah, you’re a good comedian.” Tiffany: “You best get on the Tiffany train while you can, because it’s about to take off.” Then they all just blew me off. Now those same directors and producers are blowing my phone up.

Growing up, I just wanted to feel wanted.

I believe my purpose is to bring joy to people, to make them laugh, and to share my story to help them. To show people that no matter what, they matter, and they can succeed. No matter how bad things go, no matter how dark your life is, there is a reason for it. You can find beauty in it, and you can get better. I know, because I’ve done it. That’s why my comedy so often comes from my pain. In my life, and I hope in yours, I want us to grow roses out of the poop.

I want to thank: My Grandma. My Mama. My Aunties. My Daddy for donating the sperm that made me. All my brothers and sisters. My best friends Selena, Shermona, Aiko, Shana, Richea. My old agent, my current agents and managers, and Tucker Max. Department of Children Services and the court system for taking care of me when no one else would. I want to thank EVERYONE who ever said anything positive to me or taught me something. I heard it all, and it meant something. All the dudes I ever slept with, I appreciate the experiences, but I ain’t naming none of you! I want to thank God most of all, because without God I wouldn’t be able to do any of this.