It’s all in Siddiq’s big eyes which signal his gift for noticing. His most expressive feature enables him to enact felt surprises that define his art. This down brother—who was dragooned into being a drug-dealer when he was a kid—spent years in prison. He’s a homie in Clarksdale or Houston’s 3rd Ward, yet his wit should work for Americans of every kind and condition since it evokes dimness we all share—none of us knows what’s coming next.[1] Siddiq makes comedy and provisional wisdom—the only useful kind?—out of moments when his eyes widen as he wonders…WTF?
That existential question is all over his face when he brings his audience inside his first day in prison. On the lunch line someone whispers: “Mexicans got on boots.” Clueless about the meaning of the Mexicans’ fashion statement, he figures he should pass it on so he whispers the known unknown to another stranger, who immediately takes off running…That’s enough to get Ali-the-newbie to stop eff-ing around and find out. He learns “Mexicans got on boots” means they’ve ditched sneakers they normally wear to play handball in the prison yard, which means they’re planning to KICK ass in a race riot. A revelation that starts a train of thoughts-and-dares that ends when Ali gets shivved by a Mexican who was not wearing boots.
Ali’s knack for registering irregularities—not to say insanities—of his curiouser and curiouser jail-land makes his puzzles seem relatable, though of course his life of learning isn’t just like all ours. Knowledge comes suddenly and bloodily for him. Rather than “trust the process,” he must learn to resist it (when possible). Per the unillusioned ender to his standup show in Houston. Siddiq presents as someone who won’t stop wondering how “I went to prison for six years…Got jumped on by a dope fiend couple…Got thrown in a dumpster…Got my eye fucked up…Held a grudge for years and attacked a man on a walker…I done knocked a man’s fingertips off…” His serio-comic answer-ender hits harder than most punch lines. I won’t spoil it for you. But if you stay through the end of his Houston show, you’ll get why it’s titled, “Domino Effect,” and why his rosebud was a local drug-dealer’s “fresh-ass track suit.”
Note
[1] “Now What?” is a foundational question that led one American writer, Michael Lydon, to a plain American philosophy of freedom and equality.