Average Acceptance Now

Notes of a webslaying comedian and Black Lady Sketch Show cast member who’s fed up with the insane demands of capitalism, showbiz and social media

Quinta Brunson

In 2016 I went to the Shorty Awards, a show that honors greatness in internet culture, at which you can be nominated for top comedy performance of the year along with a dog that went viral for having a tongue that hangs out all the time. It’s humbling.

Anyhoo, I took a picture on the green carpet of an awards show I didn’t necessarily want to be at. In all honesty, I was embarrassed. I dreamt of the Emmys, the Golden Globes — even the ESPYs, where I would present an award and offer comic relief next to LeBron James. An internet awards show felt beneath me.

I posted the green-carpet selfie on Instagram. For the most part the comments were kind and complimentary, filled with “yes girl!” and “slay gorgeous.” But there was one that has stuck with me for four years.

“Eh, she’s so average looking.”

Average. I don’t know if the person who wrote that comment meant to insult me but.… I take it back; I’m pretty sure that was 100 percent their intention. My first thought was no thought. The comment just kind of had me staring at it and trying to understand how I felt, whether to care, and if I should say something back. I didn’t, but I did care. At that point in my career, I wanted to be outstandingly good at my job and to be considered pretty at least. I thought what probably everyone has thought, including the person who left the comment: In order to be worth something in this world, you have to be above average.

One definition of average is “the usual or ordinary standard, level or quantity.” If anything, average sounds, dare I say, comfortable? Constantly fighting to be more than average or even less than average seems exhausting, like entering yourself in a race you can’t win while committing to being sweaty and out of breath for the rest of your life. When I had this epiphany, years later, I knew I needed to reevaluate my place in the endless race — and to ask myself why I wanted to run it in the first place.