An ADHD comedy show is a stand-up night at a regular comedy club where the jokes are about neurodivergent life and most of the crowd is in on them. At Dr. Kojo Live!, my show on The Big Neurodivergent Comedy World Tour, I open with a roll call and spend the rest of the night talking about my own brain. Fidgeting is allowed the whole time. You will laugh, and you might also feel weirdly understood.
What happens at the start of an ADHD comedy show?
My show starts with a question. Two, really.
“Where my ADHD people at? Where my autistic people at?”
That’s the roll call. I’m finding out who’s in the room, and so are you. Plenty of people walk into a comedy club thinking they’re the only one there who has ever looked for their keys while holding their keys. Then the room answers back, and that idea doesn’t last long.
After that it’s stand-up. The subject is neurodivergent life, which for me covers ADHD, autism, AuDHD (that’s autistic and ADHD at once), mental health and growing up Ghanaian-American as a kid in ESL. It also covers the many places a brain can wander in the middle of one sentence. This year the tour has played clubs from Houston to Detroit, with more cities coming.
Who is a neurodivergent comedy show for?
Anybody who likes to laugh. Tickets don’t come with a screening form.
If you have a diagnosis, this show is for you. If you’ve been side-eyeing your own habits since you saw a video at 2 a.m., it’s for you too. Same goes for the people who love us. Parents, partners, roommates, coworkers, the teacher who always knew. Come on in.
If you’re the partner, welcome. You might hear a joke about the exact argument you two had about the dishwasher. I didn’t write it about you. It’s just that every household has the same dishwasher argument.
Is it okay to fidget during a comedy show?
Yes. Please. Bring the spinner ring, the putty, the stim toy, the bouncing knee. Nobody at my show is going to give you a look for moving around in your seat. Half the room is doing it with you.
I only have two small asks, so the person next to you has a good night too. Keep the fidget quiet, because a clicky toy right on a punchline becomes its own punchline. And put your phone on silent.
Comedy clubs can be loud and dark, and the music before the show is rarely gentle. If that kind of room wears you out, earplugs are fine. Nobody can tell. Grab a seat near the aisle if you think you’ll want a break. Taking care of yourself at a comedy show is still taking care of yourself.
Do comedy clubs have a drink minimum or an age limit?
Many do. A lot of comedy clubs run a two-drink minimum, and plenty of them are 21 and over. Atlanta Comedy Theater, for example, is 21+. Every venue sets its own rules, so read the ticket page before you buy and ask your server what counts toward the minimum.
The two-drink minimum is the club’s rule. Remembering that you already ordered the second drink is your problem.
How early should I buy tickets?
The second you think of it. You know what happens to a tab you’ll “come back to later.” It turns into a tab you find in February, next to a cart with a sweater you no longer want.
Buy the ticket. Then put the show in your calendar with two reminders, because one reminder is a suggestion. If you’re going with friends, make one person the ticket person. Pick whoever has the fewest unread emails. I’m serious about this one.
Who should I bring to an ADHD comedy show?
Bring the friend with 40 tabs open. You know the one. Their battery is at 4%. There’s a half-finished hobby taking up their whole garage. They text “wait what” as a complete sentence. They once left a coffee on the roof of the car and drove off, and they still talk about that coffee like it was a pet.
That friend is going to have the best night of their life, and then on the way home they will say, “I don’t think I have ADHD, I’m just like that.”
Bring them anyway. Bring the sibling who was “just a daydreamer” in school. And if nobody can come, go by yourself. Going alone to a show about your own brain is allowed, and you won’t be alone for long once the roll call starts.
Will the show give me advice about ADHD?
No. It’s a comedy show. I’m also a doctorally prepared psychiatric nurse practitioner (DNP), but when I’m holding a microphone I’m a guy telling you what my brain did this week.
This is comedy, not medical advice. If you think you might have ADHD, talk to a clinician you trust.
What should I do before the show?
Eat something. Charge your phone so you can find the venue. Leave earlier than you think you need to, because “it’s only 15 minutes away” is a lie your brain tells you every single time.
Then get comfortable and wait for the question.
So that’s the night. I ask where my people are, and you get to answer. When you’re ready, see tour dates and text that 40-tabs friend before you forget.