You were a doctor for seven years before you switched to comedy and acting full time. Did your parents want you to do medicine first? Yeah, I always joke that I was Koreaned into doing medicine.
But there has to be some kind of through line between medicine and comedy. What do you think it is? I come from an intellectual background — I’m Duke-educated, I went to a great medical school, I did my residency for three years and I was a partner in my H.M.O., and it is so important for me not to overanalyze what I do as an artist. But in a way, medicine is improv. Medicine is listening, and so is improv: going with the flow, going through trial and error.
Your favorite book is Phil Jackson’s ‘‘Sacred Hoops.’’ In it, he writes about reaching the edge of his raw talent as a basketball player and realizing that he had to find something else. Is that something you related to? You just described every physician. All of us are smart. All of us were good enough to get into medical school, which is pushing yourself to another level. I suppose I reached the limit of my raw talent years ago.
Hey, I wasn’t going to say anything. But I’ve gotten better. That’s why ‘‘Community’’ was such an important experience — it was my acting school. I didn’t know how to cry on camera before I was on ‘‘Community.’’
On your new show, ‘‘Dr. Ken,’’ you’ve said you want to avoid story lines that are specifically about being Asian-American. Part of progress is normalizing, and we want to normalize the Asian-American experience. Right now, my son is injured on this show, but we’re not making any Asian jokes about it.
How could you make that into an Asian joke? Oh, wow, he really sprained his Asian-American ankle. Quick, get the Asian-American Ace wrap — make sure it’s Korean.
Maybe you could joke that stuff made in Asia breaks easily? I might have to go back to the set right now. Oh, my God, I think you opened up a whole new door for ‘‘Dr. Ken.’’
There are people who might ask, What’s so progressive about having an Asian-American family on TV if it’s just the same comedy that you would see with a white family? That’s white people talking. No minority would ever say that. And if you went the other direction, those same white people would say, ‘‘Oh, he does too much Asian stuff.’’
There’s a boomlet of Asian-American programming on TV right now. In addition to your show, there is ‘‘Fresh Off the Boat’’ and ‘‘Master of None.’’ Three out of 409 scripted shows on television. So, is there really a boom? Maybe to white people it’s a boom.
You describe your wife as your muse. Is she funny, too? Yeah. I mean, she’s wittier than me, but I have a better résumé.
Margaret Cho plays your sister on your new show. Have you two had a chance to talk about what has changed in the 20 years since she made ‘‘All-American Girl’’? Or has nothing changed? I think every Asian-American in comedy owes her a debt of gratitude. She really opened the doors for us. Still, I don’t think much has changed at all. Haters gonna hate, you know?
Yes. As a wise man once said. Honestly, haters are going to hate. I’m serious. Like, on everything. And they’re paid to hate. And it doesn’t matter to me. I’m going to still create. Haters gonna hate, but they can’t create. There we go, I coined that phrase. Booyah!
Have you considered rapping as a third career? No, that one would be too much on my plate, cause haters gonna hate, if I have too much on my plate and then I won’t be great —
Oh, stop, stop. Or maybe I should because I can still create.
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Interview has been condensed and edited.
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