Kemah Bob is eating an orange, with bright neon nails to match. “I always want to create something or share something that’s reflective of – oh my god, I feel like I sound so wanky – like the human condition, but my human condition,” she shares, carrying a laptop around her London flat.
This August, Bob, originally from Texas, returns to the Fringe with their sophomore show, Love Child – an intimate yet wonderfully chaotic hour of comedy which questions what it means to navigate the trials and tribulations of adulthood, after a similarly rocky childhood. It’s all a bit exhausting: go to the gym, buy a house, eat enough protein, eat enough fibre, stop scrolling on your phone. We’re constantly attempting to “optimise [our] existence” and, quite frankly, Bob has had enough of it. And so, she’s glad to put such matters aside and ask what adulthood really is – which responsibilities bind us and which might just set us free? This line of questioning demands looking back as much as it does looking forward. In recent years, Bob has found themselves reflecting on childhood experiences – particularly, that of their parents’ relationship – which have stayed with them into adulthood. “I think a big question is how are you meant to be a good adult when you never really got to be a kid?” We don’t have a say in what we inherit but we do have a say in what we do with that inheritance.
Bob is a “fucking nerd, which I get from my mum,” and so, genetics and neuroscience have woven their way into the show. Turning 32 last winter, Bob found themselves particularly drawn to recent research on brain development from the University of Cambridge, as reported by the BBC, which found that adolescence continues until none other than the age of 32. Understanding such development prompted Bob to look at past years with a renewed focus. “I feel like so much of my life at one point was kind of like happening around me, or just kind of happening to me, happening with me, but I don’t think I’ve given myself credit for how many things I’ve made happen. If we focus, what can we do?” Growing up oftentimes means giving yourself a much-deserved – but encouraging – pat on the back.
There is, however, no tougher act to follow than yourself. Bob’s debut show, Miss Fortunate – a storytelling-like account of a trip to Thailand, amid ongoing mental health difficulties – was much-loved by audiences and critics alike in 2024. “I didn’t know how creating an hour would feel on multiple levels, not that I had never performed for a prolonged period of time or anything, or not even like I hadn’t done an hour of material before, but more so how it would feel to craft something very intentionally and share it and go on tour with it and see how people feel about it in different places,” they say. While taking stock of the enormity of that experience, both artistically and emotionally, Bob has spent the last couple of years learning to take care of themselves. Creating work which feels right to them is crucial in this; Bob had expected their sophomore show to be themed around love but it wasn’t to be – not yet, anyways. “I just don’t actually feel ready to talk about that in a way, and also I think this [Love Child] was just like screaming at me.”
Treading that line between public and private isn’t all that easy but it’s a balancing act that Bob is learning fast. “I want to invite people to be kinder and more accepting of themselves, so that’s going to take some radical honesty on my part,” she says. Opening up is tough, especially when navigating topics of weight. But Bob holds a certain trust for her audience, many of whom are attempting to find their way through similar pressures. “We’re all together […] we’re all like existing together, we’re all doing our best for the most part.” On stage, off stage – it’s a collaboration.
And, for Bob, such collaboration takes more forms than one. Back in 2018, Bob founded FOC IT UP! (“it’s hard to call it a business, because it’s not like super profitable”): a comedy club for femmes of colour. Comedy isn’t known for its guaranteed cultural sensitivity and Bob saw an issue in this, for both audiences of colour and comedians of colour. “How do I curate a space where other women and queer people of colour can experience an audience that’s open and has goodwill? Also, how can I create an environment for audiences that feels a bit safer?”
In April of this year, FOC IT UP! held its first FOC Fest: a day-long event for femmes of colour, consisting of workshops and panels, with a stand-up show in the evening to round things off. Going from strength to strength, this year’s Fringe will see FOC IT UP! bring two shows as part of Francesca Moody Productions’ Shedinburgh, hoping to reach new audiences and further establish the club. Bob is keen that audiences grow to trust FOC IT UP!: while the line-up may not be the big names you immediately recognise, you know you’re in for a good time.
In Love Child and beyond, Bob is showing up: for herself, for her friends and family, and for work – like FOC IT UP! – that she truly cares about. “So I’m just kind of like combing through all that […] and trying to make it really fucking funny.” And that’s a very grown-up act, indeed.
Kemah Bob: Love Child, Pleasance Courtyard, until 30 Aug (not 12, 19, 26), 6.50pm
FOC IT UP! with Kemah Bob, Shedinburgh, 13 & 21 Aug, 10pm