Once upon a time, way back in 2013, I wrote jokes for a late-night talk show. After that gig ended, I kept writing—just behind the scenes. Pitching punchlines and crafting bits I could never take credit for, thanks to iron-clad NDAs and a paycheck that said, “Shhh.”

Comedy has always been my first love. I grew up on Richard Pryor and Eddie Murphy in tight red leather. On Sunday nights, I’d stay up watching Benny Hill with my grandmother and wake up to listen to George Carlin records spinning wisdom and profanity in equal measure. It wasn’t just entertainment—it was rhythm, rebellion, and release. Comedy made sense of the world when nothing else did.

So maybe that’s why I felt rage—not surprise—when Variety released its “Top Comics & Comedy Writers of 2025” list (not even going to give them a link back), which was as diverse as a Miracle Whip sandwich. According to them, comedy in 2025 is a whites-only party, with maybe one or two brown guests who brought their own folding chairs. Not a single Black comic made the cut. Not. One.

This isn’t just an oversight—it’s erasure. It’s proof that Black comics can sell out arenas, carry Emmy-winning shows, break the internet with stand-up clips, redefine satire, and still get left off the list unless they’re dead or hosting a reboot.

So here’s our list: the Black comedians and writers who actually moved the culture and the conversation in 2025. No tokens. No quotas. No apologies.

She didn’t just break through — she built the wall she broke through. Quinta made Abbott Elementary a primetime juggernaut, proving that a sitcom led by a Black woman about Black teachers in a Black Philly public school could be smart, funny, and award-winning all at once. She's a writer’s writer, a performer’s performer, and every showrunner’s North Star. Quinta’s success isn’t just personal — it’s political. She’s proof that the industry will invest in Black talent when Black talent calls the shots.

From Insecure to The White Lotus, Natasha doesn’t just play characters — she steals entire scenes, rewrites your expectations, and then leaves you begging for more. She’s also a writer who knows how to balance soul and shade, with a pen that’s equal parts slapstick and social commentary. Whether she’s giving us a sermon through laughter or reminding the world that fat, funny Black women deserve screen time and depth, Natasha stays pushing the culture forward with every syllable.

Jerrod dropped a new special this year that was both funny and introspective, filled with the usual emotional excavation he brings. His comedy isn’t just a routine, it’s a reckoning: unpacking family, faith, vulnerability, and social justice in real-time. He’s the kind of comic who lets you laugh and rethink everything you thought you knew about what a stand-up can be. Jerrod’s voice is a necessary evolution: bold, nuanced, and unwilling to play it safe. It’s the kind of art that changes you—while you’re doubled over in laughter.

Her HBO show PAUSE with Sam Jay bent the talk show format like a pretzel. She's writing and performing truth with a bite, and her stand-up still slaps. Plus, she’s behind some of the sharpest sketches on SNL before she dipped.

She’s everywhere — Nailed It, Grand Crew, a comedy special (Big Beautiful Weirdo) and a podcast empire. Nicole’s brand of wild honesty wrapped in joy is what comedy should be. And wait until y'all see her in Norma.

Yes, Variety mentioned him… barely. They lumped Josh into The Daily Show’s “news team trio” like he didn’t have a whole successful stand-up career, multiple specials, and one of the most thoughtful comedic voices out right now. Josh is that rare comic who can make you laugh while low-key teaching you something about the world and yourself — all in a whisper and a hoodie. He’s also a touring powerhouse, and his storytelling hits like poetry dipped in side-eye. Johnson isn't a “background player,” he’s the main event — and should’ve been treated as such.

A master of dry wit and absurdity, Langston balances stand-up, acting (The Boys), and two of the most underrated Black comedies in recent memory: Bust Down and South Side. Also, if you’re not listening to My Momma Told Me, fix that.

Forget “scene-stealer” — she ran away with Abbott Elementary. Her stand-up is smart and salty, and her voice in comedy is only getting louder (and more necessary).

Ziwe’s now-canceled Showtime series was cultural satire in a rhinestone glove. She weaponized awkwardness, flipped privilege into punchlines, and made interviewers nervous again.

Post-SNL, he’s thriving. His Why Am I Like This? HBO special was brutally funny and heartfelt. Chris is giving us comedy that actually says something while still giving hood cousin energy.

Co-writer and star of The Blackening — a horror spoof that was actually hilarious. He’s the blueprint for blending satire and scream-worthy setups. Oh, and catch him on Seth Rogen's series "The Studio."

Once The Daily Show’s youngest correspondent, now doing layered comedy in Shrinking. Her range is undeniable, and she’s still got the funniest side-eyes in the game.

While The Bear made her Emmy-famous, her comedy roots are deep — podcasting (Iconography), stand-up, Big Mouth writing. She’s nerdy, nervy, and a natural.

Whether on Couples Therapy or Mythic Quest, Naomi’s comedy always mixes heart and hella insight. Also has a writer’s room résumé that reads like TV’s honor roll.

Podcast host, actress, professional scammer-hunter
Scam Goddess stays funny, fast, and flawlessly Black. Laci brings comedy into true crime and keeps it cute and criminal.

His underrated performance in Coming 2 America and voice work in BoJack Horseman show his range. But Jermaine's stand-up? Slept-on and sharp.

Saving the best for last, because Amber Ruffin is that girl — and has been for a minute. Before most of these folks got a shot at a punchline, she was already in the writers’ rooms that weren’t built for us. Then she stepped in front of the camera and gave us The Amber Ruffin Show, where her signature combo of bubbly energy and biting satire proved that you can be disarming and devastating in the same breath. She writes books, scripts, musicals, and monologues — and somehow makes it all feel joyful. Amber isn’t just in the comedy conversation — she’s been rewriting the script for years. Variety left her off? Girl, that’s a joke.

Comedy is culture. And Black comedians aren’t just part of the punchline — we’re the setup, the delivery, the callback, and the damn closer.

So while Variety keeps handing out gold stars in a whites-only echo chamber, we’ll keep writing, performing, producing, and rewriting the rules. We’ve always been the blueprint — they’re just mad we stopped asking for permission.

This list? It’s not exhaustive. It’s just the beginning. Because Black comedy isn’t a trend. It’s the foundation.

Laugh at that.