Born and raised in London, Gina Yashere, 46, had a successful standup career in the UK, but frustrated by a lack of further opportunities, she moved to Los Angeles in 2007. There, she built an even bigger following (three Netflix specials to date), nabbed a regular spot on US satirical institution The Daily Show, and now has her own sitcom with the Big Bang Theory super-producer Chuck Lorre. Also born and raised in the UK, London Hughes, 31, also had a successful standup career here, before – also – becoming disillusioned with the lack of opportunity and moving to LA in 2019. There she also built an even bigger following (a Netflix special is upcoming), and landed her own sitcom with Insecure super-producer Larry Wilmore. Two different women, two different decades, same story: what does that tell you about the state of British comedy? LH: I never met Gina, but trust me I grew up on Gina. GY: Why you making me sound old? LH: But, I did! I remember the first time I saw Gina Yashere, ever in my life, was on The Lenny Henry Show and she used to do a bit where she would go: “I dooon’t fink so!” That was the first time I’d ever seen a funny black woman on television and I was obsessed. So why did you decide to move to America? GY: It had been a number of things. I went in to pitch a show and they said to me, in my face: “We’ve already got Richard Blackwood.” I was like: “Well, what the fuck has that got to do with me?! Oh, we’re all the same? Right.” Then, another channel got a bunch of comedians to do a week’s worth of chatshows and said whoever’s most popular will get their own show. So I did my week, got the most viewers, and then, when it came to it, it was: “Yeah, we’ve decided to give the show to Ralf Little because we think he hits the demographic.” I was like, hold on a minute? I beat Mel and Sue! I beat all of them! Then the other last straw was when Jocelyn Jee Esien got her own show. Now, listen: I want every black comedian to succeed, but they have us all fighting over the same crumbs. So, even though I was happy for her, I knew that was it for me in England. LH: It’s the same! Except, like, 10 years later! I auditioned for one panel show six times. I would always make everybody laugh and then I’d get emails back from them saying: “We love London, we just don’t think our audience would get her …” GY: Which is BULLSHIT! LH: Exactly. When I started, Gina had already left and I was DE-TER-MINED that they were not gonna do me like they did Gina. Determined. So I played the game for ages! I was tap-dancing around these execs … I remember I had a pilot for radio, recorded in front of a live studio audience and it killed. Some execs were like: “I’ve never seen our audiences laugh that loudly!” I went to answer them and someone jumps in and says: “Well that’s because most of them are black, and black people are loud.” It was such an off-key comment … GY: Off-key? It’s racist! The shit was racist! They don’t say that about white audiences. I’ve had white comics say that to me. Like, motherfucker, I’ve done a million shows in Jongleurs, where I was the only black person in the room and I killed just as hard! LH: All these little things just added up. I came to America prepared to kick down doors, but I got to the door and it was like “eeeek”, already open. Hopefully, now, the UK can take a hard look at how they’re commissioning. Because we shouldn’t be talking in LA right now! We were both born in London! GY: It’s ridiculous. Watch how the UK is gonna come. “But … but, she’s our London Hughes!” Just like they did with Idris. When I went to America, it was harder. Definitely. LH: Yeah, you opened doors for me. GY: When I came over in 2007, they didn’t even know there were black people in England. Lenny Henry had come done a movie years before, it had not done well and he’d come straight back. Then, my manager kept sending me for auditions, where I was competing with African-American actors to, like, play the security guard on How I Met Your Mother. I was like, listen: I don’t want this. Cos, Russell Brand can be Russell Brand in every fucking thing. Ricky Gervais can be Ricky Gervais … LH: … in everything! GY: So that’s how I was from the beginning and it was a struggle. Two of the specials I’ve got on Netflix, I made them myself. I rented theatres, I booked a film crew, I paid for that shit myself. Then I went to Showtime and said: “Here’s a special, already shot,” and they were like: “Thank you very much,” and gave me a nice cheque. In America, yes the country is super-racist, but that glass ceiling is a lot higher than in England. So you’re still a multi-millionaire when you hit it! Right now, I’m an exec producer, writer and actor on a mainstream channel in America [CBS’s sitcom Bob Hearts Abishola]. This opportunity would never have happened for me in England. LH: What they’re doing is these schemes to get BAME – I hate the term – talent in; but only at entry level. You’re not gonna permeate the upper echelons. And even if there’s like one, you’re that “one”, so you’ve got all this weight on your shoulders. I do talk about race in my standup; I’m free with my mouth, I’ll talk about sex and whatever and it was always seen as me doing “black jokes”. It’s like, er … I’m not doing “black jokes”, I’m just black, telling jokes. GY: Yeah, for a long time, even before I left for America I made a point of not talking about sex. I mean, I’m gay anyway, and I was in the closet for a long time, so I was like I’m not gonna lie and talk about sleeping with men. And I don’t want to talk about that stuff anyway, because of the centuries-old thing of black women being considered over-sexualised and whatever. LH: For me, I saw, like, Broad City, Abbi and Ilana, and they were just carefree, young white girls, and they could do whatever they wanted! But every role I’d been up for ended in “sha”. I was Tinisha, Ayesha, Aleesha, Keisha … And, yes, there are Keishas out there, but I’m not a Keisha and I would like to tell my story. But nobody wanted to hear my story unless it was a stereotype. GY: I’d spent years reading “All she talks about is being black”. So, this one Live at the Apollo, I was gonna show that I can do a set without talking about my Nigerian-ness once; talk about fucking plane food for an hour. Then, a day or two before, I thought: why am I listening to racist trolls?! I’m gonna talk about my fucking culture, and furthermore, I’m gonna invite my mum to the show and let her come in her full African attire! And I did! And that was the set that got me this sitcom in America … It might have taken me longer, because I’m not willing to bend myself to fit into anybody’s parameters of what they think a black woman is, but I’m happy with this success. I can walk down the street and white people can high-five me, and black people can high-five me, cos they know that I’m not embarrassing anybody. I’m just doing my thing.