Earlier this summer, as protests erupted across the country in response to a wave of I.C.E. raids, comedian Cristela Alonzo instantly thought back to her childhood in South Texas.
Growing up in the Rio Grande Valley along the Texas-Mexico border, Alonzo remembers Border Patrol and immigration raids as a constant occurrence. Her mother was undocumented, and though her older siblings did their best to shield her from the realities that came with that, the anxiety of their circumstances stuck with her.
“It’s weird to realize decades later what an impact that had,” she tells Rolling Stone. “You grow up surrounded by Border Patrol, and in the Eighties, there were raids everywhere, sweeping the factories and restaurants, just like they are now. When it started happening again, I kept thinking about my mom.”
It may not seem like a likely source of comedic inspiration, but at 46, Alonzo has built a career out of poking fun at the culture shock of leaving South Texas for Los Angeles — and the unpredictable antics that come with navigating the world as a first-generation American in an immigrant family. It also served as the basis for her semi-autobiographical ABC sitcom, Cristela, which made her the first Latina to create, write, and star in her own primetime comedy.
Her latest special, Upper Classy, streaming Sept. 23, is the latest in a trio of Netflix specials, including Lower Classy and Middle Classy, chronicling Alonzo’s life and career milestones contrasted against a childhood spent in poverty. Filmed in her home state on a day of nationwide “No Kings” protests, the special kicks off with Alonzo taking a sip of water. “Room temperature,” she tells the crowd. “Because I hate ICE.”
Alonzo spoke with Rolling Stone about making the special, finding humor in the darkness, and believing, despite it all, in the power of the American Dream.
“The way I see this hour is that it’s almost a weird way of protesting,” she says. “It’s about not letting people take your joy away, and actually leaning into it more. When someone doesn’t like you, the worst thing you can do is smile at them and move on. It might affect you, but feeling love, feeling happiness — it gets you through the darkness.”
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You filmed the special while the No Kings Day protests were happening across the country. Did that atmosphere affect your mindset at all going into the taping?
Netflix gave me a whole hour to myself, and as a Latina in Hollywood, that’s a privilege. If I can’t use that hour to talk about what’s happening, then what the hell am I doing? It would be a betrayal to everything I’ve done.
Your first special, Lower Classy, was filmed before Trump was elected. In it, you joke about the different ways immigrants are going to outsmart his border wall and you roast his love of tanning while talking about his deportation plans. How has the Trump era shaped your comedy over the last decade?
I mean, I remember when we started taping that first special in August of 2016, I had two more shows to do, and I was asked, “Hey, you mentioned Trump a few times. Do you want to get rid of those jokes? ’Cause he’s not going to win, right?” And I said no, because it said something about where the country was that he was running. It’s not like me to pretend that something’s not happening. Even as a comic, that’s just not my style.
You’ve spoken a lot about the realities of growing up in a mixed-immigration status household. What has it been like for you watching this current moment we’re in, where families are being torn apart through ICE raids and deportations?
There’s a weird trauma that I wasn’t aware was so heavy on me. Because my mom was undocumented, it created this weird imbalance, where parents are supposed to be the powerful ones, the protectors — and she was — but at the same time, because I was a citizen, there was something she was vulnerable to that I was not.
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When the raids started happening, I started thinking about how many people were like my mother, like me and my siblings. And what am I going to do in response? Do a special where I’m like, “Oh my god, airline food, right?” I can’t do that, but I can tell jokes about what’s going on.
Was that the motivation behind the “Room Temperature” comedy shows you were doing around L.A. this summer that raised money for an immigration-defense law firm?
Yeah, I wanted to do something because I thought if anything had happened to my mother when I was a kid, where would I be? What kind of help would I have looked for? So I started putting on these shows where tickets were $30, and I didn’t make a cent. Everything went to the Immigrant Defenders Law Center to help detained immigrants get legal counsel. After six shows, we raised $48,000. And you know what? People were so happy to help. It was such a good reminder of the vibe Latinos have when we band together. It’s the vibe of a carne asada, or a quinceañera. It’s the vibe of being completely united, and even in the worst times.
On that note, Upper Classy touches a lot on the idea that joy can be powerful. You talk about being the person in your family who plans out vacations and gets your siblings to enjoy themselves and relax. Why is that important to you?
You know, my brother, who was also undocumented, told me years ago when we were talking about representation on TV, “Sister, why do bad things always happen to the undocumented people? Why are they always sad? In every show, every movie, they’re always sad.” He was like, “I was undocumented for a long time, but I also like music, I also like to laugh, I like a lot of things. Why don’t they ever show that?” And honestly, I’d never thought about that. But he did, because it was personal to him.
Over the past decade, we’ve built this habit of leaning into the negative. But happiness is just as important. We can’t let people take that from us just because they don’t like who we are.
In your specials, you have a way of taking the most mundane things and making them sound like these glamorous luxuries. In Lower Classy, you “brag,” “I’ve got the kind of money where … when I get sick, I’m like ‘Grandma, keep your Vicks. We’re going to the doctor.’” Where does that perspective come from?
I’m the youngest of four, and because of my job, I get to do things I never thought I could. It’s why I’ve been doing these specials called Upper, Middle, and Lower Classy, because I want to highlight the ridiculousness of what is considered “classy” to someone who grew up without, but I also want to point out what people are taking for granted.
In Upper Classy it seems like the next life milestone you’ve unlocked has been getting to share those luxuries with your siblings. What has that been like?
Oh, it’ll be something as simple as getting to go to Pittsburgh for work. And like, no knock on Pittsburgh, it’s a great city. But my brothers are huge Steelers fans, so when I asked if they wanted to come out with me, you would’ve thought I invited them to the moon. It was a huge deal for them. In that moment, I realized, “Wow, I could really impress them with nothing.” [Laughs.] Like, “Oh yes, boys, we’re going to Pittsburgh, and we’re going to walk around the stadium and look at the outside of the building where the Steelers play.”
That reminds me of a moment in the special, where you take your siblings on a Hawaiian vacation, and later, you’re waiting for your brother to mention it when he’s talking about the most beautiful places he’s ever seen. Instead, he says it was seeing the green grass in San Juan, Texas, the year your family moved from Mexico.
That brother is very stoic. He doesn’t talk a lot about his feelings, so when he told me that, it stood out because it’s so foreign to how he normally speaks. I realized that even being his sister, I had a completely different upbringing than he did. He was 11 or 12 years old when we moved to Texas, so his childhood was in Mexico. So when we got to San Juan, and he saw how green the grass was — that this country had so much water, people could use it on their lawns — it stood out to him, and I took it for granted.
Right now, in light of Jimmy Kimmel’s suspension, it seems like a lot of the comedians who were formerly “crusaders” for free speech have been silent. What’s been your reaction to the fallout?
It’s almost like that’s not what they really cared about. [Laughs.] It was never about free speech for them, it was about making money, about grifting. I could never be the kind of person who’s willing to sell their soul and say anything just to make money.
Has there ever been a part of you that’s thought about being a more “apolitical” comedian?
As a Latina, as a brown woman in the United States, and a first-generation Mexican-American, I’ve lived a lifetime of knowing that some people will not like me off the bat, because of what I represent, or what they think I represent. At some point, you have to get over it and realize it doesn’t have anything to do with you. So I’m going to keep being honest about how I feel, because what are they going to do? Not like me even more? I think that for some people, comedians give them the permission to say the things they really want to say. So if I lose followers for what I say, I’m OK with that because I believe in it.
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You close the special by wrapping yourself in a serape of the American flag. What inspired that decision?
I had already written the hour from beginning to end, but I wanted to make a statement about everything that was happening. I found a Latina-owned company called Sin Titulo that makes Mexican-American flags, and they’re handmade by their mom. Immediately, it checked everything off my bingo card. I ordered it, I had my brother drive it up to me in Dallas, but I still didn’t have anything written or planned.
Then I thought about what I had been saying about the American Dream, and I wanted to put a face to our culture that is being vilified right now. It’s what I say in the special about my brother who became a citizen: He loves this country. He’s so grateful to it for giving him everything that he could afford. He’s a retired teacher, who taught elementary school. He’s got a Bible verse screensaver for his iPad. [Laughs.] I wanted to show people how great we are, and also remind them: The time is now, are you going to be on the right side of history?