Black women deserve to be safe.
 To be heard.
 To laugh.
 To create.
 To be free.

I started The Black Laughter Collective because I wasn’t getting what I deserved.

I was worn down by spaces that quietly and loudly upheld microaggressions, white supremacy, homophobia, transphobia, xenophobia, and harm dressed up as professionalism. Spaces that claimed inclusion while demanding silence, shrinking, and emotional labor. In corporate spaces. Creative spaces. Churches. Nonprofits. Everywhere, I was expected to give endlessly while receiving the bare minimum in return. I was tired. And I knew I wasn’t alone.

I knew other Black women were carrying the same weight. I knew we needed more than another space to vent. We needed a space to breathe. To play. To laugh. To remember ourselves.

At first, I thought maybe I’d start a sister circle. A place to talk. Encourage each other. Just breathe together. I longed for something else. Something different to refuel. I wanted joy. Play. Creativity. I wanted laughter. Individually and collectively.

I’ve always been a comedian at heart. What started as a hobby became a calling when I trained in the art of improv. I’ve been in tons of shows, directed and produced, played countless games, and creatively connected with wildly talented people. One of the greatest gifts along the way was finding the Black Improv Alliance, where I had the honor of producing and directing some of the most amazingly fun virtual improv shows that rival any in-person stage performances. Being seen there reminded me that Black creativity is expansive, global, and deeply powerful. I have deep gratitude for Stephanie Rae, a sister who saw me and allowed my light to shine.

Life shifted, calming my nervous system and making room for what I would do next with improv for Black women. I moved to the Mexican Caribbean to live out my dream of beach-town living. I work in political organizing spaces. The work matters. And so does my mental health. As a Black American woman, my body has kept the score. Years of urgency and vigilance live there. I owe it to myself to let my guard down and choose wellness. Tropical weather, beach walks, and yes, the occasional mezcalita. Lots of laughter and joy!

I landed in the Mexican Caribbean, where, out of all places, a vibrant community of Black women already resided. Synchronicity is real! Just one month into living in my new home, I opened space for us to play. To laugh. To create through improv. No pressure. No perfection. Just joy. It has been one of the greatest joys of my life.

In 2026, The Black Laughter Collective is celebrating one year of hosting free, fun, and welcoming improv sessions that center Black women exactly as we are. And we’re just getting started.

This is about joy as practice. Play as healing. Laughter as resistance. Black women deserve this space. And I’m committed to growing it in community. We’ve had a blast. And the best is still coming.

With love & laughter,

Katherine M. White