Phoebe Robinson was, oddly enough, forced in high school to read The Greatest Generation by Tom Brokaw. She announces this in the new second season of 2 Dope Queens, the podcast she co-hosts with Daily Show veteran Jessica Williams.
“It was like, ‘And the ’50s were so great for everyone!’”
“Not true,” interjects Williams. “Not true. Not true.”
“And I’m like: Did anybody fact-check this at all?” asks Robinson, who continues to mock the book. “‘Back in our day people could just walk to the mailbox!’ And I was like, whichpeople?!”
Not Robinson’s people. She’s made her comedy career speaking out for — and passing the mic to — the voiceless minorities. Remember Robinson’s name. If she gets her way, the decade to come will be a good one for her — though not for the sacred cows she and Williams routinely slay. And, ultimately, she will be influencing the comedy we see, hear, and read for a generation to come.
“I really do want to have an empire,” she says. “I eventually want to get into executive producing where I’m helping develop other people’s comedic voices.”
She’s well on her way: In July, Robinson launched her own solo podcast talk show, Sooo Many White Guys, which has next-to-no white guys as guests and is executive produced by Broad City cocreator Ilana Glazer.
“Phoebe Robinson is tired of being the token black woman in an ocean of white dude comedians,” reads the copy on the show’s site. Her mandate is to bring exposure to minorities, women, and LGBT guests, which have so far have included “noted badass feminist” Roxane Gay and comedian Hasan Minhaj. Okay, there was one “token white guy”: .
2 Dope Queens is a hit for WNYC Studios — it’s the fifth-highest-ranked comedy podcast on iTunes, ahead of WTF but behind Wait, Wait, Don’t Tell Me — and just this week kicked off its second season.
The show evolved out of “Blaria,” Robinson’s blog and stand-up show in which she described herself as being like a black Daria — the titular character from the 1990s MTV cartoon. “Blaria,” like 2 Dope Queens, was a mix of stand-up, banter, and storytelling with other comedian guests.
Her own comedic voice defies stereotype. She is warm and gleefully goofy, which plays perfectly off of Williams’ more angular bite.
“I had a little bit of a vagina-related thing happen today,” announces Robinson in a recent episode, before describing a mortifying wardrobe malfunction that could happen to anyone. In sympathy Williams admits, “My boob is always popping out.” Together the two make for a perfect millennial odd couple, a comedic study in contrasts: They both love Billy Joel but are bitterly divided over Patti LaBelle. Williams is in a committed relationship; Robinson reports on misfires from the front lines of dating.
