In his HBO special, “Just for Us,” the comedian Alex Edelman explores his Jewish identity and whiteness in an unusual way: attending a neo-Nazi meeting in Queens. Before the 2024 presidential election, he traveled to Michigan to watch a stranger perform his comedy special in a theater performance. In this episode, Edelman joins the Opinion editor Susannah Meadows to reflect on that experience, what “Just for Us” means after Donald Trump’s return to office and why hard conversations — even with extremists — matter now more than ever.
Below is an excerpt from this episode of “The Opinions.” We recommend listening to it in its original form for the full effect. You can do so using the player above or on the NYT Audio app, Apple, Spotify, Amazon Music, YouTube, iHeartRadio or wherever you get your podcasts.
The transcript has been lightly edited for length and clarity.
Susannah Meadows: You had to watch the person or persona that you created, and I’m curious how it felt to be confronted with that person you made, and did you like him?
Alex Edelman: Um, yes.
Meadows: Oh, that’s nice.
Edelman: But I kind of like that there are things about it that feel really, really true and vulnerable to me. But there are also some things that I sort of hide the ball on. I think it’s like a sketchy abstract picture of myself, as opposed to a photo. And watching somebody else inhabit that made it seem that way, too.
Meadows: You obviously feel a lot of ownership over it, and the show is out of your control. How did you deal with that?
Edelman: In principle, completely fine. You know, why take this so seriously? Who gives a [expletive]? Sorry, can I curse at The New York Times? Like, who cares? Because ultimately, I’m not going to be doing it, and it exists on HBO, and I’m very proud of the HBO version. But ultimately, I had such a wonderful time performing it and just getting advice from people, so I thought, if someone else can have that experience, how tender, how wonderful. And then you go and see it, and it feels different, and then you’re like, “Oh, OK!”
Meadows: Forget it!
Edelman: Well, that’s not the decision I would have made. You know, that’s not what I would have done. But ultimately, even after seeing it, I did feel like, I like that someone else can do it. I like that people can go see it and experience it live. Also, the show is not about antisemitism. The show is about assimilation.
The show is about someone who feels a certain way and is at odds with the world that they exist in. And so, I’d be really interested in seeing a non-Jewish, nonwhite, nonmale performer do a version of that.
Meadows: I’m curious. Why?
Edelman: Because Norman Lear, who I completely worshiped, liked to say that I’m just another version of you. And Norman created all these shows, “All in the Family,” “Sanford and Son” and “Maude,” “Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman.” And a bunch of shows where it wasn’t just about Norman Lear, these shows — they were fully inhabited with this humanity.
And Nathan Englander likes to say that when people are told, “Write what you know,” sometimes they go, “Oh, if I’m a farmer, I should write about being a farmer. If I’m from a poor background, I should write about being from that specific poor background.” But what he means is if you know shame, write shame. If you know ambition, write ambition. If you know what it feels like to be informed by a world that you come from, but also longing to completely fit in with the greater world at large, write about that.
So I’m curious to see someone who’s coming at that specific angle of wanting to belong, but coming from a place where that may not be the easiest thing, I’m wondering if the story still works for them, if the filter of it is through something other than their Judaism.
Meadows: So you mentioned in another interview that the show is the best, truest expression of yourself. So what did you find out watching yourself?
Edelman: I’m so annoying. I’m so annoying, and so Jewish. Can someone tone down the Jewish for this time period that we live in? Gosh. I mean, in 2025, to be this Jewish seems almost irresponsible. (Susannah laughs) I mean, no — I think, watching it, I do think certain things come through. The things that I love come through.
The love of my family and my identity, and weirdly, there’s something patriotic about it. Which is the idea — not to spoil anything for anyone who hasn’t seen the show — the idea that, not that these people can be reached, the white nationalists in the room, but the idea that you’d want to is very, I think, weirdly patriotic. Also, the neediness of someone who wants to connect with everyone is ——
Meadows: That’s you.
Edelman: Yeah, that’s me, thank you, Susannah.
Meadows: You’re welcome.
Edelman: But seeing that ——
Meadows: But that idea of being not — I’m not saying the neediness, necessarily, it’s just the interest in hearing other people.
Edelman: Sure.
Meadows: Isn’t that the core of the show?
Edelman: Oh, a thousand percent. And also, I do think — not to be earnest here — I do think that wanting that right now feels interesting in a different way, like the aspects of the show that appeal to people.
Meadows: Do you think that has changed, post-Trump?
Edelman: Yeah.
Meadows: Talk about the show before Trump and then how the show is received after.
Edelman: Well, while I was in Minnesota, I did some door-to-door work for this candidate in Minnesota who was running in a pretty competitive seat that I really like, and the mood was — I sort of knew which way the election was going to shake out. So I guess I was sort of curious how the show would play that close to the election, like a sort of love letter to civility or something.
Ultimately, there’s a little bit of wish fulfillment in the show, which is that we can all speak civilly to each other and offer each other both empathy and accountability, even in the most extreme environment. Even in a room full of white nationalists with some neo-Nazi views.
Meadows: When you were performing it on Broadway in 2023, I feel like you were kind of against the tide when you were first doing it.
Edelman: I feel like there was a moment for that opinion, and I wonder how that opinion holds up now in terms of loving civility and the rule of discourse, and favoring conversation that is productive over conversation where you are the party that is right. I wonder if that still holds the same currency that it did when I was doing it on Broadway or during a Biden administration.
Meadows: Is it harder to make the argument that you do with your show that we really need to be talking to each other?
Edelman: No.
Meadows: Or is it more relevant?
Edelman: I don’t know that it’s more relevant. The truth is, I think, in principle, people quite like the idea that they can have productive, civil conversations with people who have fundamental differences from them. But as soon as you introduce Democrat and Republican, those things start to break down.
People start to say, “Well, yes, but in this case, they’re not civil, or in this case, they wouldn’t actually listen to me, or in this case, there isn’t actually civility.”
I did the show on Broadway in August of 2023, but then its tour was post-Oct. 7, while there was this major conflict in Gaza and the atmosphere around discourse and Jewish identity changed drastically. And so, that was different.
Meadows: Tell me how it changed, and how you felt that as you were performing it.
Edelman: It became more charged, and I always said something at the beginning of the show, which isn’t in the play and isn’t in the special, because the special was filmed beforehand. But I said, “When I was in high school, I went to see John Updike, a famous novelist, give a talk. And John Updike said, ‘If you are lucky, at some point in your life the work that you create might find itself in conversation with the times in which you live.’” And then I would pause and go, “Well, call me Mr. Lucky!”
I believe that a show should be conversant with the moment it’s in, and not beholden to it. And I think that holds true with the time that we’re in now. I truly believe that, I think this is a bipartisan thing to say, ignoring a conversation that you could be having by going, “No, I’m sorry, it’s not up for conversation” — it doesn’t make those things go away.
And so, I think being cleareyed about what other people feel and what they’re saying and what they believe is really crucial. I’m not saying that everyone has the energy to do that, or the time. Some people need to make sure that Shake Shack is open. Not everyone can be online fighting all the time in pursuit of a more bipartisan truth. But I do think it’s important to have those conversations.
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