Erik Rivera's life is indeed a picture of bliss. Beaming from beneath a worn baseball cap, the writer, actor, and comedian joins our Zoom session from the comfort of his Los Angeles abode. Perhaps it's the永恒的阳光 that Angelinos brag about, or maybe it's the fulfillment he finds in his hard-earned successes: a respected career, a solid marriage, and two adorable boys. Whatever the reason, he's acutely aware of the stark contrast between his humble beginnings and his current state of affairs, even if his young children remain oblivious to the transformation. "My kids have no clue how privileged they are," he chuckles.
Raised in New Rochelle, New York, as the offspring of a Puerto Rican father and a Guatemalan mother, Rivera is intimately familiar with the value of a dollar. His early years were a balancing act between navigating his parents' immigrant sensibilities and the often-demanding pressures of American life. Unsurprisingly, this dichotomy has served as a rich vein of comedic material for Rivera, who mines it for laughs in his stand-up routines along with other aspects of his life, such as his interracial marriage and the realities of raising two young boys.
However, despite harboring a lifelong passion for stand-up comedy, Rivera never saw it as a viable career path. "When you grow up with immigrant parents, the idea of comedy as a profession isn't exactly on the radar. You're steered towards more traditional, stable paths like medicine or law, with the admonition to pursue something reliable and lucrative," he explains. So, Rivera had planned to attend Pace University to pursue a degree in communications.
Then, 9/11 happened, forever altering the landscape of his life. "[After 9/11], the campus reopened after serving as a triage center. I remember returning and being overwhelmed by an eerie sense of unease. The soot was everywhere, and we watched trucks carting away debris daily. The atmosphere was just not conducive to learning, and students were understandably uneasy," Rivera recalls.
In an effort to escape the morbid atmosphere, Rivera and a friend ventured to a comedy club, which they found unexpectedly packed. "People wanted to forget, to find a moment of levity in the midst of tragedy," the comedian says simply. That night, an idea sparked in his mind: to organize a comedy night on campus, offering his peers a chance to come together and heal through laughter.
Stand-up comedy truly embodies a pure art form. Irrespective of the challenges one faces throughout the day, stepping into a comedy show transforms into an escape. For an immersive hour and a half, Rivera explains, "You shed all your worries at the doorstep and immerse yourself in the joy and laughter." Although the troubles may still await once the curtains close, the experience offers a brief respite, a moment to unwind and let go.
While Rivera found fulfillment in organizing comedy events that helped others cope with their traumas, there was still something deeper he desired. As a child, he was captivated by John Leguizamo's "Mambo Mouth," which resonated deeply with him. It was a glimpse into someone from his culture, speaking about things that he could relate to. Now, as an adult, stand-up nights and rubbing shoulders with comedians have presented him with an opportunity to share his own narrative and, in turn, assist others in finding solace in their stories.
Rivera recalls a particular night at a comedy show where he witnessed the magic of stand-up firsthand. "I saw how the comedian pulled the rabbit out of the hat," he says. "I observed the meticulous setup, the punchline that left the audience in stitches, and how he skillfully guided their emotions, playing with their frustration and anger, only to release it all in laughter." That moment was a revelation for him, and he thought, "I think I can do this."
A mere month later, Rivera took the plunge and stepped onto the stage of Hamburger Harry's in Times Square. For many, the thought of leaping into such an endeavor would be daunting. But for Rivera, it's precisely what makes stand-up so special. It's not merely about delivering jokes; it's about baring your soul, exposing your pain and struggles in service of the audience.
"You can certainly write jokes and there are masters of the craft," Rivera muses. "But the real connection comes from vulnerability. Yes, comedy often finds its footing in stereotypes, but there's also a profound authenticity in sharing, 'Hey, this is happening to me,' and people can resonate with that."
For Rivera, comedy serves as an outlet, a means to explore aspects of his life that may not always be picture-perfect. Whether it's his mother-in-law's suggestion of having a Mexican mariachi band for his rehearsal dinner or her insistence on keeping guacamole stocked in the fridge just for him, these anecdotes become fodder for his stand-up material. By delving into these topics on stage, he not only processes them in a healthy manner but also invites the audience to join him on this journey of self-discovery.
Stand-up comedy has traditionally served as a gateway to success for oppressed or marginalized communities, and the reason behind this is profound. Our hardships, when channeled correctly, can transform into humorous anecdotes that offer a moment of levity in an otherwise heavy load. However, navigating through those painful experiences can be a delicate dance. Rivera confesses that he has made the mistake of delving into certain traumas before they had fully healed, particularly the loss of his father due to Parkinson's disease.
"I'm not gonna lie to you," he admits, "when I first started sharing that story on stage, it was dicey. I wasn't ready to start talking about it."
But then, something beautiful unfolded. As Rivera continued to refine the material about his father, he found himself connecting with people in a deeper way. After his shows, individuals would approach him to express their gratitude, revealing that they were going through similar experiences.
"Anytime you're going through something tough, you feel like you're the only one," he says. "But we're all going through it; it's just that nobody talks about it."
For this reason, writing has become a crucial part of Rivera's healing process. Even when he hasn't yet found the distance from his challenges or the humor in them, his mind is constantly working on the material, hoping that one day he'll be able to share it with others. He journals frequently, viewing it as a sort of "map" that guides him through difficult times. The comedian also underscores the significant role running plays in helping him process his thoughts.
"Everybody should have some kind of quiet time or meditation or an activity that takes you out of your own head and space," Rivera emphasizes.
Whether it's honing his material on stage or running under the sunny skies of Los Angeles, Rivera has found his own unique way of coping. Throughout our conversation, he radiates a sense of self-assurance that stems from the work he puts into his comedy, which is ultimately a reflection of the work he puts into himself. Now, he's ready to embrace whatever comes next, even if it doesn't necessarily involve comedy.
"The journey of growth is never-ending, my friend," he declares. "You must embrace every aspect, be it writing or directing. As your toolbox accumulates more tools, it becomes increasingly challenging for others to reject you." Rivera embodies this sentiment. Amidst the pandemic, he penned an animated series, eagerly anticipating its future showcase. While comedy remains his passion, a healing balm for himself and others, he also recognizes the breadth of narrative possibilities.
"Becoming a parent altered my perspective on everything," he reflects. "Witnessing the lack of representation on television, where even my children fail to see themselves... it's spurred me to pivot. Let's create these upcoming TV projects so we can all see ourselves reflected there." Rivera aspires for more than the stereotypical Latin narratives centered around "border crossing trauma" or "saving the taco shop." He simply desires ordinary shows featuring Latinos as regular individuals, grappling with daily challenges the way he has and continues to do.
"That's my next objective in life: to create these shows where Latinos are a natural part of the tapestry, stories that people can laugh at, watch together, and feel a deep connection with," he concludes.
