By Josh Watkins
Although our transgender siblings have always been at the forefront of the fight for LGBTQ equality, they continue to be the most marginalized in our community. One of the most prominent contributing factors to this disparity is the lack of representation of trans identities in the media. The world always needs more LGBTQ perspectives, and for Austinite and trans comedian Carina Magyar, comedy is the best way to put hers out into the world.
Magyar, a transgender standup comedian, uses jokes to educate and inform the masses. “I found my voice onstage, incorporating my transition and identity as a woman into my stand-up comedy,” she explains. And the message Magyar pushes the most when she performs? That she is a normal person with a normal life with normal problems.
Magyar came out on her 36th birthday. She was at the zoo with her wife and their two daughters. She always knew she was different, but the idea that “I’m a woman” entered her mind shortly after the birth of her second daughter—and it stuck.
Embraced by nothing but support from the start, Magyar says she feels lucky. Her wife and friends accepted her transition immediately, and the rest of her family got on board shortly thereafter (although with slightly less enthusiasm). Magyar’s greatest hope is to create conditions as accepting as hers for other trans folks dealing with their own coming out processes. “I’m in a very rare position to have had family, community, social, and workplace support during every step of my journey,” she says. “I recognize this as a privilege.”
Since Magyar came out to her daughters when they were still very young, she’s been met only with acceptance and understanding as a trans parent. “At first, and for a long time, they were still using ‘daddy,’” she explains. “But recently settled on ‘Carina’ out of their own accord.”
However, Magyar did face some challenges when it came to her transition—including the end of her marriage. “My wife and I divorced, albeit in the most romantic way possible,” Magyar says. “We simply came to the agreement—after many heartfelt discussions and heart-hurt arguments—that, while we could remain perfectly compatible as friends and co-parents, we needed to be free to pursue romantic partners who fit our sexualities.” Magyar says that, to this day, they remain as close as any married couple.
Magyar got in to comedy like most—by signing up for an open mic night. Her first time on stage, she went in thinking she was better than the other locals—and totally blew it. But something about performing comedy continued to reel her in, and she kept going until she “sucked less.”
She frequently discusses gender in her standup, noting that it’s a rich source of material not often touched upon by non-transgender comics. “I think standup comedy has always had a deep subgenre of ‘women are like this, men are like that’ humor, and I happen to be able to do that in a different way,” she says. But Magyar strives to be more than a one-note comic, and also heavily discusses parenting issues in her performances.
Magyar admits that, while she is hesitant when it comes to certain jokes about being transgender, she doesn’t shy away from playfully poking fun at her identity in hopes to humanize her experience and to help others understand that it’s “not that radically exotic.” She wants people to know that, “[she] is not a political oddity, a downtrodden sex worker, a psychologically-troubled soul, or whatever other perceptions there are of trans folk in the broader community.” Instead, she aims to be the trans woman who is “fun to grab a beer with,” or the trans mom who “sets up park play dates.”
Living in the South, LGBTQ individuals—and especially trans folks—constantly have to fight for and defend their rights. When asked about the numerous anti-trans, unsubstantiated “bathroom” bills currently plaguing the Texas legislature, Magyar responds: “It [should not be] mandatory that everyone disclose the entire history of their genitalia to the general public. People with no [knowledge of or] experience with trans folks conjure grotesque caricatures [of what they think we are] and are projecting them onto us.”
And for those who use religion as an argument for this type of hate: “I wish ‘Christian’ didn’t mean ‘conformity’ in this country,” Magyar expresses. “It’s a tragedy that a nation that is—for the majority—Christian can’t be [equally as] accepting and loving.”
Despite the harsh Texas political climate, Magyar says she has found friendship and a chosen family within the Austin comedy scene. Austin—although not perfect—continues to have one of the most supportive and inclusive comedy scenes in the country, Magyar says. “On numbers alone, we have about as much diversity in our scene as our overall demographics will allow for,” she says, noting that most show bookers in Austin make a real effort to represent that diversity.
When she’s not on stage, Magyar is a website consultant, a part-time journalist, and is currently developing a children’s book. She also has a message for those struggling with or questioning their own gender identities: “Seek out the stories of others. See if their struggles resonate with yours. Don’t be afraid to seek out a licensed therapist to help you understand your feelings. It’s okay to question gender—it might even be an essential step in getting to know yourself.”
Magyar can be found performing every Friday night at Coldtowne Theater, where she hosts the longest-running standup showcase in Austin. She also hosts a show every Tuesday at Gourdough’s Public House on South Lamar. Magyar tracks all comedy shows and comedians in Austin on her site Last Gas Comedy.