The Last Black Unicorn

by Tiffany Haddish

In the black neighborhoods, little girls’ hair is always cute. They’ve got the barrettes and all that. It’s a big thing to have good hair as a black woman.

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.

I was stalking him. I would send him candygrams. Remember candygrams? I sent him A LOT of candygrams. I gave him a Snickers every week, till we was in twelfth grade. That dude probably has a mouth full of cavities because of me. I would try to write him notes, but I was illiterate, so everything was wrong. It was the worst: “Audie, yo how bout we date er som fing?”

Once I could read, man, it was like I had a superpower! I wasn’t stupid! All them words made sense!

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.

Quincy Jones came in there, I was like: Tiffany: “What is he doing here? He ain’t funny.” But he was saying how comedy is like music, and it’s about the rhythm of the words. Like if you really listen to a joke, it has a melody to the punchline. I got that, it really helped me.

Richard Pryor gave me that advice, at the Laugh Factory Comedy Camp, when I was fifteen. I’d had a pretty rough life to that point, and I’d had some bad shit come my way, but I was pretty lucky for that experience. I try to take that philosophy and apply it to everything I do in life. 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. Wherever

That was bad enough, but after that accident, oh my God, she would say the worst things to me. I felt like all of the inner thoughts that she used to have before the accident, but she never said out loud, would all come out. She’d be like: Mom: “Oh, you look like your ugly-ass daddy. Oh, God, where’s my husband at? I’m so sick of looking at your ugly ass.” I guess that is common for people with a brain injury. They talk crazy, and all kinds of mean stuff comes out.

Then she started beating me. By the time I was nine, she got her motor skills back. She couldn’t get all her words out, so she’d just punch me. Just full on. Because of her, I can take a punch like nobody’s business.

It was like living with a mean teenaged girl, who was hormonal and boy crazy.

“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.”

In my heart, I was so hurt and mad . . . but also I felt like that was so funny. Who throws a huge, broke-ass rearview mirror at people? Sometimes I laugh so hard about it, but sometimes I just cry, because I know my mom is sick. She’s sick, and she’s trying to be a good parent, I think. In my mind, I like to think she was trying to be motherly, she was trying to tell me to be safe and not get pregnant. Trying to keep me out of trouble. You know?

She started yelling at me, and I don’t do well with that. I just don’t do well with people yelling at me. I got mad and I snatched the trash and I tried to run to the dumpster. But before I could run to the dumpster, she snatched me by the back of my shirt and threw me up against the car and started punching me, repeatedly, in the chest and the stomach, in the mouth.

that was basically Black College Reunion. Except with more DMX playing in the background.

Anyway, we talked all the way to LA. I remember in that first conversation, all the red flags were there. The dude lived with his mama, even though he was twenty-one and had a job! I should have run, but I was twenty and dumb.

I like men who smell like their work. It means they have a job.”

And he would ask to use my car, which was fine. But then I wouldn’t see him for two days. Yeah, I know, I know. In retrospect, the signs were obvious. What’s funny is that it took a child to point them out to me. I mean literally an eight-year-old child.

Three months go by, and slowly things got worse. To the point where we were basically broken up, except not completely. You know how with some relationships, the breakup takes months to really get momentum and be real, but you know it’s there long before? That’s how it was. It just so happened that I was scheduled to go on a cruise with my auntie. Titus had zero interest in that, until we were ready to break up, and I told him I wouldn’t be seeing him for a week. And now Titus wants to go on the cruise, too.

He was really passionate about this idea that I was going on this cruise to get wild and hook up with a bunch of men. Yeah I know, he’s projecting shit on me that he is doing behind my back. I can see that now, but I did not see it then.

What’s funny is that on that cruise I met the man who I would eventually marry, and then who would end up becoming my ex-husband. I had no idea at the time that any of this would happen. We just met a normal way. He said “Hi” or whatever, and we talked for a while. I wasn’t even into him, but when he told me he was a policeman, I was like, Oh, it’s always good to have police friends.

then my future ex-husband starting acting weird, following me around the boat, filming me from a distance. And of course, Titus hated that, and he would yell at me about it, as the dude was lurking around, filming us. What can I say? It was just all fucked up. But it gets worse. The cruise was the week of September 11. Of 2001. Uh-huh. THAT 9/11.

were still together, but not really. On the one hand, we were breaking up, but just couldn’t seem to actually do it. On the other hand, I still thought I was going to marry him, and I thought I could trust him.

I knew everything was true. His sister was right. I could just feel it in my bones. I was talking to myself, Oh God, everything she said is true. I’m so stupid.

This man was betraying me so much right now. A feeling of disgust for him came over me. I was disgusted by him, and I felt disgusted for myself for being so blind. You know?

She opened a bottle of Cisco. It was peach Cisco, because we classy.

I cried all the fucking water out of my body.

And my birthday is time-stamped at the bottom of the fucking video. I wasn’t crying no more. I started screaming at the TV. I was screaming at the TV like some crazy woman, I was so mad.

Tiffany: “You best to get out of here. The police coming.” That phrase will scare off any black guy (except Obama . . . maybe). He left so fast, he didn’t even get his clothes and shoes and other stuff he had left at my place.

Then I ate a lot of corn. A lot. And I didn’t chew it so well. And I made a different present for him.

Eventually, it came down to what all black women arguments come down to: Bertha: “I should come beat your ass!” Tiffany: “I wish you would come try to beat my ass.”

Titus: “I fucking hate you. You’re a horrible person.” I just felt so good. I felt like I really accomplished a lot.

“Well . . . they be smelling like cocoa butter. That’s nice.

You know how white people do, they just encourage and cheer anybody who lets it all hang out and just don’t give a fuck.

When I got off the stage, I felt like a piece of meat. If you think only men can make a woman feel horrible, you don’t know shit about other women.

Cops tend to be pretty good dudes. They are strong and polite, and they treat you right.

When he asked his dad about his mom, his dad was like, “Your mom was mixed, but she was a harlot.” Some English people call a ho a harlot, I guess. So his dad was calling his mom a ho.

It’s like fat people who lose weight, in their head, they’re still that fat person they used to be.

“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.”

Kevin Hart: “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.”

Only a drunk person could be excited about eating cabbage, so you know I was drunk as shit.

It’s easy to talk about leaving him. It’s hard to do it. Part of you really thinks it will get better, and he said it would.

Tiffany: “Why you don’t want her to know that your wife’s spending your money? What’s up with that? What’s up with that? What’s up with that? What’s up with that?” When we black women repeat our words, you know shit is bad. Well, shit was bad.

Lady: “You were amazing. I peed on myself. I peed on myself.” Tiffany: “Oh, thank you. How many kids do you have?” You know, because women be peeing themselves after they have babies.

my ass, bitch!” At first, people were laughing, ’cause they thought I was just playing. Then I pulled my hair off. I took my shoes off, I took my earrings off. I balled up my fist, all furious, and I started praying into the microphone:

I was so embarrassed that I went so ghetto, so fast.

And I will always forgive. I may not forget, but I will forgive anyone, if the apology is sincere, and I feel his was sincere.

Some guys are amazing. Like Kevin Hart. He’s like, my comedy guardian angel.

Will: “I’m gonna have to get me one of these.” Tiffany: “What, one of these boats?” Will: “No, a swamp.” Tiffany: “What?!” I was thinking to myself, This nigga ’bout to buy an ecosystem? I couldn’t just let him top me, though.

Hollywood Friend 2: “Because now you know those two are the enemy. Now you are aware. It’s the ones that are sweet to your face and plotting behind your back that you have to worry about.”

Hollywood Friend 2: “At the end of the day, Tiffany, you just have to be gracious. You have to smile and when they say something you don’t like, you figure out how to Dallas they ass.” Tiffany: “Dallas?” Hollywood Friend 2: “Knots Landing they motherfucking ass. You got to get like a soap opera. You got to get down and dirty . . . but do it classy. Get down and dirty, but do it classy. Let these bitches know you not afraid to fuck them up.”