A lifetime spent reading the room and reshaping herself to fit in, Kaneez Surka now chooses authenticity with Foreign Return
Few comediennes have navigated as many cultural stages and selves as Kaneez Surka. Born in South Africa, shaped by India and sharpened in New York, Kaneez has built a career on occupying the ‘in-between’. She was among the first women to step into India’s stand-up boom, carving space in a scene that was still figuring itself out. Her new tour, Foreign Return, feels less like a homecoming and more like an integration. After four years in New York, where she says she found a voice that finally feels whole, Kaneez returns to Indian stages not to reshape herself for comfort, but to present the fully formed version. In a conversation with Indulge, she tells us what it means to belong everywhere and nowhere at once.
Kaneez Surka returns to India after four years with Foreign Return
Excerpts:
What is Foreign Return about and what were you trying to unpack through it?
I’ve come back to India. I moved to New York City four years ago and this is my first tour since I left (during the pandemic). It was such a precarious time. I went to South Africa first and then moved to New York, where I did a lot of stand-up and shot my special. Then my managers said, “You need to come do a tour in India.” For some reason, I was always scared of coming back. I can’t even fully explain why. But I’m really glad I did. With the support of my managers and friends, everyone kind of pushed me to take the leap and I thought, what better name than Foreign Return?
In this show, I touch on my identity, nationality, religion, ethnicity and also what it’s like being a 40-year-old single woman in this world. I’ve built it around what it means to be a foreign return. Because no matter which country I’m in, I’m both a foreign return and a resident of that place. I’m always a little bit inside and a little bit outside.
There are anecdotes from all three places I’ve called home. I don’t think I spoke much in India about growing up in South Africa and I’m really excited to finally share that part of myself. When I was here before, I received a lot of backlash, especially about my accent and my so-called foreign aesthetic. So, I tried to distance myself from those parts of me. I would mention them here and there because they are obviously a part of who I am, but I avoided going deeper into what I truly experienced growing up during apartheid.
Now, I want to share those stories here. I’m still nervous because earlier, I often felt like I was pandering in some strange way, trying to get Indian audiences to accept me. At this point, I just want to show the world who I am, no matter which country I’m in and where I come from. That’s what I’m choosing to move forward with instead of trying to be relatable to everyone. That’s just not possible. At its heart, the show is about being a fish out of water and that’s a human experience. We’ve all felt it somewhere, regardless of race, religion, country or gender.
Having done comedy in India and then moving to New York, how would you say your relationship with comedy has changed?
When I went to America, I remember telling myself that I wasn’t going to pander anymore. During the second wave of the pandemic, I was doing comedy and living with my parents in Cape Town, trying to repackage my identity all over again. I had all these childhood jokes from South Africa and then when I shifted into my adult experiences from India, audiences would just look at me, completely lost.
In India, it was the opposite. I would talk about my childhood and people would be confused. Then I’d talk about my adult life and everyone would relate. Then I moved to New York. I’m not putting down any other country, but in New York, you can be yourself and people will listen. Being a city built by immigrants, they’ll try to understand your perspective, even if it’s not relatable to how they were raised; and there, as an artiste, I found a voice that feels authentically mine.
Politically, I still feel censored in America, just like people talk about censorship in India. I know you won’t go to jail, but there are still repercussions for saying certain things. In that sense, it hasn’t really changed for me.
Growing up across cultures, did you develop that instinct where you were an observer before a participant?
I think, when you live in different countries, you naturally absorb how people do things. You figure out how to relate to them, how to navigate the space, how to belong. I hate that phrase, ‘fit in’, though. I went to a very white British boarding school in South Africa and I remember girls telling me, “We don’t even see you as Indian. We see you as one of us.” At the time, it felt like a compliment. It felt like I was fitting in, assimilating into the environment around me.
But now, I’m not sure, because there’s something slightly unsettling about it. It can feel like you’re not being seen for what you’re actually made up of. I did become very good at reading the room and giving the room what it wanted. But, I’m at a point now where I’m questioning that instinct. I want to be who I am and if the room rejects that, then so be it. People are paying to watch me and I care about the audience. But, I don’t want to keep assimilating and turning myself into what other people are more comfortable with.
As a comedian, my observation skills have sharpened a lot. It’s not just about cultural identity anymore. My brain automatically shifts into observation mode.
You’re often described as a pioneer for women in Indian comedy. Does that framing shape you accurately?
I think, it’s fair to say that, because when we started, there were maybe four female comedians. As women, we were navigating something very different from the men. When we started, mostly us women were getting insane amounts of hate. The hate definitely moulded me, especially the backlash about my accent. I remember obsessing over it. Do I need to change it? How do I become more Indian? Which is wild, because I am already Indian. That pressure shaped the comedian I became in India in many ways. Even Kaneez Maasi exists in that context. I am Kaneez Maasi because I’m a maasi to everybody. But a big part of my early comedy was about trying to get Indians to see me as Indian.
The ‘pioneer’ label is something I used to run away from. Now, I’m more comfortable with it. Yes, I was one of the first female comedians. I’m proud of that. It’s just one line in the larger story of who I am.
Comedy spaces come with hierarchy. Did you feel that in India and did it feel different in New York?
In India, I was there from the beginning. We were building the scene as we went along. So, I don’t even know what the hierarchy looked like, because we were the ones creating it. In New York, though, I feel it very clearly.
There’s a defined, step-by-step process to move up. I followed that path for about three years. But, I’ve realised I’m not really a path follower. I’m happiest when I’m creating things that don’t already exist. Shows like General Fun Game Show or my character work came from that instinct. They felt unique and completely mine. At the beginning of this year, I had a real conversation with myself. I feel like I’ve built a foundation in America. I have a community. I have friends. I feel somewhat established. Now I want to create there too, not just climb.
So, this year, I want to be braver. I don’t want to obsess over hierarchy. I just want to do my own thing. Because sometimes, especially for someone as privileged as me, the only person holding me back is myself, really.
How do you perceive the growth of Indian comedy globally?
This is the beautiful thing about being Indian. There’s an Indian diaspora in almost every country. Indian comedians can travel almost anywhere and still get at least a hundred people to show up. You could go to Helsinki and there would be Indians there.
I went to Tokyo on a family holiday and called up a comedy club to ask if I could do a short spot. Whenever I travel, I like performing. It’s my way of understanding a culture. They asked me to do a half-hour set instead. We ended up selling out two shows. It was 100 seats each, but still, the club was shocked. I remember asking the audience, “Who are you people?” They were all Indians working at some tech company in Tokyo. I had no idea they were there. But they were watching our videos and consuming our content from all over the world. When I did my world tour, I wasn’t selling out in the way some of the male comedians were. But my audience, my God, they are the sweetest, most incredible audience and they feel the same no matter which country I’m in.
Even in New York, when my American friends open for me, they always say they’ve never performed for such a warm crowd. One of them told me it felt like performing in their mother’s womb. They felt protected. That makes me emotional. It makes me feel like I did something right, that these people show up with that kind of energy. As an artiste, that’s incredibly touching.
Lastly, how do you expect to grow with this India tour?
This tour feels like my big test. A test of integration. Am I going to fall back into my old ways? Or am I going to bring this new version of myself to the Indian stage? I didn’t come back for four years because I was scared. I didn’t know what voice to use in India. Now that I’ve found my voice, I want to share this evolved version of myself with an Indian audience. I don’t know how it’s going to land. But once I stand on that stage as a fully integrated version of who I am, it will feel like I’ve unlocked something. Now I feel ready.