Why Vulnerability Is Your Secret Weapon on Stage

And A Sure Measure of Courage (Comedy Mindhacks #72)

Some comedy teachers teach you to project confidence, own the room, and never let the audience see you sweat. There’s a place for that. But, on some level at least, I teach the opposite. I teach my comedy students that vulnerability is my most powerful tool on stage. And, just to be clear, it’s not a weakness and it’s not oversharing, but it is strategic. And it creates legit connections faster than bravado ever could.

What happens when I open up something raw on stage? I create tension. In turn, that tension sets the stage for surprise. And the surprise lands the joke. Just today, a student in my class shared her topic: “My mom. She’s a prison guard who cheated on my dad with an inmate.” Boom. Instant tension. We crafted it into: “My mom’s a prison guard, always patrolling... for hot inmates.” The tag: “She knows her way around... a pair of handcuffs.” Vulnerability. Emotion. Surprise. The result: a good little joke with a nice tag.

The line between vulnerability that works and oversharing that kills the room comes down to one thing, what Jared Volle calls being “playfully inappropriate.” I tell my students they can’t word vomit. They can’t emotion dump. And they can’t go in dark just to shock people and forget they’re telling a joke.

I learned this firsthand with a joke about my grandpa having Parkinson’s. Early versions got groans. When I reframed it to show he loves that I do comedy, that I’m his favorite grandson, that he kept begging me to include him in the show, it landed. He was literally asking for it. The tag: “That’s his favorite joke. I’ll tell him you loved it.” The vulnerability wasn’t just mine. I made it shared. I brought the audience into a relationship, not just an observation.

My comedy motto is Laughter Over Outrage. Vulnerability fits perfectly into that philosophy. When I’m vulnerable, I’m laughing at myself. When people see that, they relax. They then take the cue to laugh about/at themselves. Vulnerability gives the audience permission. Brene Brown defines vulnerability as “uncertainty, risk, and emotional exposure.” It’s not weakness but, in fact, it’s the most accurate measure of courage. It’s showing up when you can’t control any aspect of the outcome. For comedians, that’s every time they step on stage.

And? Well, if you want to start using vulnerability strategically, I would suggest writing a paragraph about a recent incident. It should be something real, something that matters. Then, go through each sentence and punch it up. At the end, you’ll have a bit charged with vulnerability and lots of punches.

Vulnerability is huge for someone who works clean. It forces me to think about every word carefully. That constraint makes my vulnerability more strategic, not less powerful. Audiences want connection, authenticity, and something that reflects their own lives. Written jokes can certainly do this, but crowd work shows this shift clearly. It’s live, real-time, on-the-spot. There are no tools to help, just the comedian’s brain. That’s why it’s one prominent measure of authenticity in comedy right now. At the end of the day, we need to remember that vulnerability is good, not bad. It’s courageousness, not weakness. It’s the real stuff. It’s where the connection lives.