MARGARET CHO IS ON A MISSION.
BY IZABELA CANELLE
This May, Margaret Cho descends upon Fort Lauderdale, bringing with her an arsenal of sharp wit, provocative cultural observations, and that rarest of commodities in modern entertainment: relevance. As part of her Live and Livid tour, Cho does not come merely to amuse. She arrives to unsettle, to provoke, and, above all, to remind us that comedy, when wielded by the right mind, can still be a form of intellectual rebellion.
In an epoch where celebrity culture has become a carnival of mediocrity and virtue-signaling gestures, Margaret Cho remains defiantly singular. Where others peddle in harmless anecdotes or plastic activism, Cho fuses artistry, advocacy, and razor-edged humor. Her recent climb to the semifinals of Celebrity Jeopardy! is no trivial feat—it is a statement. Representing Friendly House LA, a charity aiding women, trans women, and nonbinary individuals grappling with addiction and homelessness, Cho demonstrates that wit, when paired with moral seriousness, can still cut through the fog of cultural lethargy. Her commitment here is no performative nod toward fashionable causes; it is a lived ethic. Cho does not pose. She acts.
Her humor is confrontational, forged in the uncomfortable spaces most would rather avoid. It is a rebellion against cultural complacency and societal neglect. Her forthcoming album, Lucky Gift, offers yet another dimension to her defiance. More than a creative detour, it serves as a personal manifesto, an exploration of emotion and complexity that comedy alone cannot contain. The standout track, Funny Man, a tribute to the late Robin Williams, reminds us of comedy’s tragic undertones. It is no accident that those who laugh loudest often know pain most intimately. Cho’s understanding of this truth, this inherent melancholy at the core of laughter, elevates her beyond the realm of mere entertainer; she is a chronicler of the human condition.
Audiences in Fort Lauderdale should prepare for more than a night of jokes. They should expect an encounter. Cho does not flatter with easy laughs. She offers, instead, hard truths. Expect stories—personal and political—woven with biting cultural critique. Anecdotes about her beloved dog, Lucia, whom she calls the best gift she’s received, will surely surface. Yet beneath these tales of affection lies Cho’s greater gift: her refusal to distract us from the urgent by focusing solely on the trivial.
Take Mommy, her decade-long one-woman show exploring family. Here, Cho blends reverence with irreverence—a balancing act so few performers can manage. For Cho, the personal is always political. Her comedy moves seamlessly from family dynamics to scathing indictments of political hypocrisy and cultural decay. She is unafraid to say what others will not. And this, above all, makes her indispensable.
Cho’s Fort Lauderdale appearance is not simply another comedy show on the calendar. It is a cultural event. She plans on holding up a mirror to society not for its vanity, but for its reflection. She’ll expose the blemishes, the cracks, the parts we would rather not see. But it is precisely these truths we most need to confront. Fort Lauderdale, consider yourselves fortunate. In a cultural landscape littered with the bland, tame and the forgettable, Margaret Cho stands apart—unapologetic, unflinching, and absolutely essential.
