As the star of multiple Netflix and Comedy Central specials, Jo Koy is a significant player in the comedy world. But as he makes clear in his memoir, Mixed Plate: Chronicles of an All-American Combo (Dey Street/HarperCollins, March 23), it took more than two decades of relentless work and sacrifice, as well as plenty of introspection, to get there. “Readers familiar with the author’s stand-up will still find the swagger, foul language, and family-inspired humor intact but also genuine care for his storytelling,” writes our critic in a starred review. “Koy relates the difficulty of navigating his own identity as the son of an American military father and Filipino band-managing mother.” While simultaneously celebrating and poking fun at his heritage, Koy effectively “goes behind the funny, showing his wide-ranging comedic talent and abundant wells of perseverance.” I spoke with the author via Zoom from his home in Los Angeles; the conversation has been edited for length and clarity.

Why write a book?

I always wanted to write a book, to tell my full story. Today, everyone’s connected through the web. So, of course, I have brown friends, and mixed friends, and Black friends, and they’re all online. When I was growing up, there was no social media. We were dealing with significant racial issues every day, in real life. I do this joke onstage, but it’s really true: If it wasn’t for the military, there wouldn’t be mixed babies. My dad is a White dude from Buffalo, and he still remembers school integration. For him to go overseas and find an Asian wife and come back married with kids, that was a big thing. I thank my dad for that.

Talk more about your ethnic heritage and how it fed into your work.

I always make a joke about the Jabbawockeez [an American hip-hop dance crew whose members often perform in masks]. I’m friends with them, and I love them so much. They were groundbreaking, winners of America’s Best Dance Crew in 2008. Everyone remembers them crushing it, but the stereotype was always Asians were nerds, and they couldn’t dance…blah, blah, blah. I’m not saying that’s why they wore the masks, but the masks had a lot to do with their identity. They were saying, Just look at us for our dancing. Don’t pay attention to who we are; just look at this. I commend them for that. I think it served as an awakening. It’s little things like that, that make half-White, half-Asian guys very proud. When they took their masks off, I was excited to tell my friend, He’s Filipino; he’s Vietnamese; he’s Black. Their backgrounds didn’t matter; their universal language was dance. But we’re past that now.

Are we past it, though?

I don’t think we’re past it, but there has been progress. The Jabbawockeez and others helped kick down some doors, and when I got my first Netflix special [in 2017], I kicked a door down, too. I’m not saying I’m some kind of hero, but it was a struggle for me. Netflix wasn’t going to give me a special, even after more than 20 years in the business. I had to pay for that first special myself.

Let’s discuss that grind, which is apparent throughout the book. Were there other options, or was it always comedy?

Comedy, 1,000,000%. Even if I never did stand-up, I would have been writing jokes for somebody. I knew it was in my blood, that I had that gift. We moved a lot when I was a kid, and picking up and leaving your friends after three years of being close to them is hard. But I knew if I could find some way to entertain people, I could make friends wherever I went.

Speaking of friends…Rob Schneider. One of the most memorable parts of your book is about “raspberry bibingka,” a tiny detail from Deuce Bigalow. Please explain.

My buddy Rob is Filipino and White. In the movie, he mentions bibingka [a baked rice cake from the Philippines and Indonesia], but he says “raspberry bibingka.” I remember being in the theater, and my mind exploded: I knew he was Filipino! Then I was pissed off, because there’s no such thing as raspberry bibingka. It haunted me for years. When I finally met Rob, instead of just enjoying the moment, I’m thinking, Why did you say raspberry? At the end of dinner, I finally asked him. He told me that he wanted to include something to honor his mom—who appears in his movies—and his Filipino heritage, but it was a struggle with the writers. They said he needed another word to help people understand that it was a dessert. So even Rob Schneider struggled with finding a place in his work to represent his identity.

Let’s talk about the pandemic and how it has affected you and your career.

My son’s mother and I are divorced, but we’re the best of friends. She lives just down the street, and we do the co-parenting thing. Going through this pandemic made me realize just how much I was missing [while] on the road. When you’re on the road for 15 years straight, you miss a lot. I tell my son that I’m sorry I had to sacrifice so much but that we live a great life now, and that’s what I was doing it for. I had to do the work to get where I am, but 2020 was the reset I needed. I realized just how much I need my son around me.

Other than much-needed family time, what else have you been doing this past year?

I’m going to host a competition show for Netflix, and we shot six episodes of that and then shot another hourlong special for the network. Even more exciting, I have a movie deal with Amblin Partners and Rideback. I had a deal in place with Dan Lin (Rideback), but it wasn’t really moving. A few weeks after my second Netflix special, Amblin [Steven Spielberg’s production company] called me in for a meeting. When I walked in, someone told me, Steven is a big fan. I thought, Who? Steven in accounting? I pitched the movie, and they bought it right there in that meeting and have been moving it through the process very fast. God bless you, Steven. I’ve been a fan of Steven since day one. What he’s doing is a beautiful thing, to take on this story, which is a lot about Filipinos but also a lot of diversity because it’s gonna look like my family. I got Latinos in my family; I got Black people in my family; I got Chinese people in my family; I got White people in my family. The movie is called Easter Sunday, and it all takes place on that day, just one day of complete chaos. And that’s where the comedy ensues.

Eric Liebetrau is the nonfiction and managing editor.