When I attended Hasan Minhaj’s live performance a few weeks ago, I expected to share a laugh at his highbrow humor with fellow South Asians. I didn’t expect to be writing an article about it. 

Minhaj is an Indian American stand-up comedian who often delivers social commentary on South Asian culture and issues through his jokes. When an American friend saw my Instagram story about attending his show, she confided in me that she was conflicted if she should support him after The New Yorker’s piece, “Hasan Minhaj’s ‘Emotional Truths,’” which detailed how specific stories from his specials couldn’t be fact-checked and weren’t completely true.

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After reading the piece and watching his response video, I went through a rollercoaster of emotions. I had hung on to his every word, felt every emotion with him — can people lie so well? I resonated with his content about facing racism in a post-9/11 America and receiving death threats in the mail that could have poisoned his daughter. I felt betrayed. 

But, as I reflected further on it, I arrived at a key question: Did I resonate with the content or the message he was conveying? If today someone asked me whether Minhaj was dumped before prom or on the day of because his date’s parents were racist (he fabricated this timeline), I couldn’t tell you. But if someone asked me whether Minhaj’s prom date’s parents were racist toward him, I would say yes. It isn’t about the details he fabricated to increase the impact of his story, it’s about his message.

When I spoke to another fan of Minhaj, he agreed. 

“Sometimes the truth is not as subversive or provocative,” said Aseem Singru, a sophomore majoring in economics. “If he were to be completely truthful about exactly what happened, it wouldn’t be comedy; it would just be storytelling.”

Minaj was trying to get across the truth — not the factual truth but the emotional one. Is that so wrong?

Perhaps I am biased toward Minhaj: I could be excusing his behavior because he looks like me and represents my community in Western media, a sphere that is dominated by faces I am not familiar with. Minhaj is the most friendly face among them, and I don’t want this representation to be lost because he exaggerated his experiences to better represent his community.

However, I may be alone in this bias.  

“He’s representing South Asian Americans specifically, which I am not. I am from India,” said Ishana Basu, a freshman majoring in cinematic arts, film and television production. 

Another friend of mine from India also believes that Minhaj isn’t representing him because of other differences between them.

“The lived experience of someone like Hasan Minhaj is very different from mine, which is that he is a second-generation immigrant here,” said Veer Khanna, a sophomore majoring in architecture. “I grew up with a lot more privilege in my country than he did here.”

While Minhaj’s experiences don’t directly translate to mine as an Indian international student, who grew up in the privileged bubble of modern India and moved abroad to pursue higher education, we still share some core values. I am not willing to let go of the resemblance, albeit limited. 

Upon comparing Minhaj to the other South Asian representations in Western media I am acquainted with, whether it’s Baljeet from “Phineas and Ferb” or Devi from “Never Have I Ever,” Minhaj is more authentic. All I learned from the other shows was that Indians pray, study and occasionally wear colorful saris.  

But rather than focusing on the superficial aspects of our heritage, Minhaj explores the nuances, and the small stuff matters most. 

“On a global stage, South Asian stories and just experiences aren’t very well seen,” Singru said. “But with Hasan Minhaj, it was a very authentic representation of being an immigrant.”

The most memorable aspect of his show was when the audience laughed together as Minhaj narrated the perils of Indian parents not allowing their children to lock their bedroom doors. I don’t care if he’s an immigrant and I am not — in the end, we have common roots and when he addresses those, I feel less alone. 

I am not trying to argue that Minhaj’s emotional truths were justified, but I’ve chosen to believe he is trying his best to represent his community and shed light on the issues plaguing them. After all, that’s exactly what I attempt to do with this column: represent a larger community I am part of.

Edhita Singhal is a sophomore from India writing about her experiences as an international student in her column, “Foreign Footprints,” which runs every other Tuesday.