We Are Family

Summary

RISK! Podcast: “We Are Family” (December 9, 2025)

Hosted by Kevin Allison

---

Episode Overview

In this candid and irreverent episode of RISK!, host Kevin Allison brings together two deeply personal, vivid stories centered on the messiness, love, pain, secrets, and conflicting loyalties of family. Jillian Markowitz shares a fierce, darkly comic odyssey through sisterhood, while David Joseph offers a raw, poignant exploration of masculinity, secrets, and queer identity in a Black family. As always, the tone is unfiltered, emotionally charged, and sharply honest—a showcase of how truth and myth, love and pain, live side by side in our family ties.

---

Key Stories and Discussion Points

1. "Uncomfortably Close" by Jillian Markowitz

[02:06–17:49]

• Sibling Rivalry and Complicated Love:
  • The story opens with Jillian recalling her childhood dynamic with her older sister, marked by complex emotions: affection, resentment, and a persistent need for approval.
    • “My brother liked to hug me and kiss me and my sister liked to smack me in the head.” [02:06]
  • Their play centered around mischievous Barbie games that hint at the pair’s imaginative, subversive rapport:
    • “Our Barbie games usually consisted of teen pregnancies… I don’t know who was getting her pregnant because all our Ken dolls were gay.” [02:26]
• The Soup Incident and Lifelong Branding:
  • A pivotal childhood incident occurs when Jillian’s action (pushing a chaise) accidentally results in her sister suffering second-degree burns from spilled hot soup. Her sister frames Jillian as the perpetrator.
    • “She let my parents think I had intentionally given her second-degree burns… And I was branded as having anger management issues for the next 16 years.” [04:36]
  • This event leads to a family narrative of Jillian as “dangerous,” affecting her identity and self-image for years:
    • “After that, I could not slam a door…I couldn’t raise my voice…without hearing one of my parents talk about my dangerous little temperature.” [05:03]
    • “The thing about people saying you have anger management issues is…the more passionately you try to defend yourself, the more you prove them right.” [05:33]
• The Bachelorette Party and Emotional Breaking Point:
  • Fast-forward to young adulthood: Jillian’s sister, engaged but struggling, invites her and a friend to a low-key bachelorette weekend in Miami.
  • Jillian, aware of her sister’s perennially biting humor, orchestrates a plan with her sister’s friend Greg to become the target for the night and keep her sister in good spirits.
    • “Make fun of me as much as you need to. Roast the hell out of me. Throw me under the bus. It’s fine. Maid of honor duties.” [10:24]
  • The plan backfires when her sister, seeing through the set-up, physically lashes out, violently slapping Jillian in public.
    • “She raised her open hand to the sky and took it straight, full force right across my temple, knocking me to my knees in the middle of the street.” [12:17]
  • After a brutal confrontation, Jillian is left reeling, isolated, and questioning the darkness in herself—almost imagining pushing her sister off the balcony in a moment of raw pain.
    • “And then for a split second. I thought about how easy it would be to just push her…” [14:28]
• Unspoken Apologies and Enduring Bonds:
  • In the aftermath, her sister’s peace offering is strikingly emblematic of their relationship: she brings Barbies for them to play with on the flight home.
    • “This was it, her apology. She thought…she could still buy me off with a game. Of fucking Barbies. And she was right.” [16:06]
  • Jillian reflects on the volatile but enduring nature of sisterhood:
    • “We went from literally almost killing each other—literally—to playing Barbies in less than 24 hours. But I think what you have to understand is that with sisters, love and hate sit uncomfortably close, often wearing matching outfits.” [17:27]

Memorable Quote:

“With sisters, love and hate sit uncomfortably close, often wearing matching outfits.”
—Jillian Markowitz [17:27]

---

2. "Queer Fears" by David Joseph

[21:54–37:56]

• Black Masculinity, Queerness, and Family Expectations:
  • David describes growing up “a weird kid” in a Black family where difference, and particularly queerness, was not easily accepted. His father’s immigrant background adds pressure to “be a man.”
    • “My father, Rex, he always found my weirdness off putting…he was very strict about the roles of a black man, particularly heavily on the man bit.” [22:14]
  • A crucial point of contention emerges around David’s love of Pee Wee Herman—innocent for him but “gay” in his father’s eyes. His cherished doll is taken away in his father’s bid to make him more “straight.”
    • “I was too young to really understand why that bothered my father until…I realized…he thought Pee Wee Herman was gay. And my obsession…was slowly turning me gay.” [24:06]
  • David’s father attempts to “butch him up” with action movies, a move that ends humorously counter to its intent:
    • “We watched Predator together…and even as a child, I was thinking that was the gayest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.” [25:09]
• Family Secrets and the Myth of Masculinity:
  • At 15, David is introduced to his Uncle Ron—a towering figure in family lore and the embodiment of Black masculine cool.
    • “Back in the day, Uncle Ron was the pinnacle of masculinity…j ust the coolest black man you’ve ever met…” [26:55]
  • Uncle Ron takes David through the city, their day marked by brief, awkward encounters and moments when the mask slips, revealing Ron’s sadness and alienation from siblings.
    • “He talks about how he never felt accepted by his siblings. Dad was the only one who really accepted him…It sent him down a terrible path…He had so many regrets.” [33:17]
  • In a sudden moment of revelation, David realizes that Ron is living in an AIDS hospice—his “apartment” is a care facility, and the family story is a facade.
    • “At that moment, I realized that my Uncle Ron was not in an apartment that he bought. It was a hospice for AIDS patients. My uncle…was dying of AIDS.” [34:38]
  • David’s father remains oblivious to Ron’s truth, clinging to the myth of his supremely masculine brother.
    • “Did he introduce you to a lot of ladies? Because, you know, that’s Uncle Ron.” [35:12]
• The Cost of Living as a Legend:
  • Uncle Ron’s death prompts David to reflect on legacy, secrecy, and the damage of never being truly known.
    • “You don’t have to tell people anything about yourself. You can just be who they want you to be…You get to be remembered as a fucking icon. But I also saw where that ends up. Alone in an apartment, surrounded by the few memories of the good times.” [37:19]

Memorable Quote:

“You can just be who they want you to be…You get to be remembered as a fucking icon. But I also saw where that ends up: alone in an apartment, surrounded by the few memories of the good times of your life.”
—David Joseph [37:36]

---

Reflections & Host Commentary

Kevin Allison [38:12–...]:

• Kevin connects both stories to the universal struggle between truth, performance, and acceptance within families and communities.
• He shares his own experience of storytelling as both a means of exposure and self-protection:
  • “Sometimes I would reveal some aspect of myself…and feel like I had kind of pulled a veil away…but then feel like I'd slipped another one right under it.” [38:12]
• He references Taoist philosophy on the impossibility of fully expressing the “truth,” noting, “The moment you put anything into words…you’d have to then say, on the other hand, though…” [38:12]
• The episode closes with gratitude for the storytellers’ vulnerability and a gentle challenge to listeners: What stories are you still concealing, or performing, for the ones you love?

---

Notable Quotes & Moments

• On Family Narratives:

  • “The thing about people saying that you have anger management issues is that the more passionately you try to defend yourself, the more you prove them right.”
    —Jillian Markowitz [05:33]

• On Family’s Double-Edged Love:

  • “She was at her happiest when the whole family joined together to mock someone, usually me.”
    —Jillian Markowitz [06:19]

• On Hiding and Revealing:

  • “You can just be who they want you to be…But I also saw where that ends up.”
    —David Joseph [37:36]

• On Breaking the Loneliness with Storytelling:

  • “Loneliness does not come from not having people around. It comes from feeling unable to share with people what feels important to you.”
    —Kevin Allison [38:12]

---

Timestamps for Key Segments

| Segment | Speaker | Timestamp | |--------------------------------------------|-----------------------|--------------| | Introduction | Kevin Allison | 00:54 | | “Uncomfortably Close” – Story begins | Jillian Markowitz | 02:06 | | The Soup Incident | Jillian Markowitz | 03:09–05:00 | | Defining “Anger Issues” | Jillian Markowitz | 05:03–05:43 | | Bachelorette confrontation | Jillian Markowitz | 08:37–14:44 | | The Barbie Reconciliation | Jillian Markowitz | 16:01–16:49 | | Story wrap-up/reflection | Jillian Markowitz | 16:49–17:49 | | “Queer Fears” – Story begins | David Joseph | 21:54 | | Pee Wee Herman & Performance Anxiety | David Joseph | 23:22–25:09 | | Meeting Uncle Ron | David Joseph | 26:55–31:16 | | The Truth about Ron – AIDS hospice | David Joseph | 34:12–34:56 | | Legacy, myth, and loneliness | David Joseph | 37:03–37:49 | | Host reflections on storytelling | Kevin Allison | 38:12–43:54 |

---

Summary

This episode of RISK! dives into the paradoxes and secret histories at the heart of families. Through Jillian Markowitz’s sharply funny yet wounding tale of sibling rivalry and David Joseph’s powerful account of identity, masculinity, and silence, listeners are reminded that the stories we tell—and don’t tell—shape how we live and how we’re remembered. Family is the place where “love and hate sit uncomfortably close,” and sometimes, the price of being a “legend” is everlasting solitude. As always, risk is inseparable from honesty, and telling the truth—in all its messiness—may be our best chance at real connection.

Transcript

[Kevin Allison]

On this episode of Risk, you'll hear.

[Jillian Markowitz]

The game of fucking Barbies. Take your pants off. You need to take your pants off.

[Kevin Allison]

And you'll hear all about oily, muscly.

[David Joseph]

Men with their shirts off hanging out in the jungle.

[Kevin Allison]

Sounds like my kind of story. I'm Kevin Allison on the show where people tell true stories they never thought they'd dare to.

[Jillian Markowitz]

We'll be right back.

[Kevin Allison]

We're back.

Hello, folks. This episode is called We Are Family. And I'll tell you three quick things before our first story. One, this is Ideogram behind me now, a band out of Scotland who's got a friend in our producer, John La Sala. Two, our next live show will be at Caveat in New York City this Thursday, December 11th. Hosted by JC Cassis. It'll have David Zelnick, Ally Mack, Nick Hornido. Plus, we'll do a mini story slam with five minute stories selected for from the audience. So get your [e-mail] live. And three, we'll be hearing a story from David Joseph later in the episode. But to start things off, a story by Jillian Markowitz that was recorded at a show we did in Philly in June. It's a story we call Uncomfortably Close.

[Jillian Markowitz]

So the way my parents tell the story is that when I was born, my brother liked to hug me and kiss me and my sister liked to smack me in the head. She hated being around me, especially when my mom put us in matching outfits.

She really hated wearing matching outfits. Now she could get me to do anything in the world by offering to play Barbies with me. And our Barbie games usually consisted of teen pregnancies. You get a Barbie pregnant by rolling up her clothes and stuffing them under her tightest dresses to give, like, the illusion of a belly. And I don't know who was getting her pregnant because all of our Ken dolls were gay.

I was five and she was eight. And I have no idea where we learned any of this.

So one day I completely lucked out. My sister said that we could watch a movie together while we ate lunch.

I microwaved a Kid Cuisine mini tacos and she made a cup of noodles. And we went downstairs and she started setting up Sword on the Stone and vhs. We had this big couch and I was sitting on the floor in front of it, nestled between the couch and this big velvet chaise. And I was using my finger to carve shapes into the velvet chaise, but I couldn't get the angle that I needed to carve. So I shoved the chaise forward and Then I heard my sister shriek. And I peeked over the chaise and I saw that her soup had spilled all over her legs. Her black leggings were covered in noodles. So she scurried out of her leggings, and I saw that her left leg was completely red and there were these white blisters forming all over it. My parents ran downstairs screaming, what happened? And then my sister, through tears, pointed at me and said she poured her soup on me. And I was like, what? No, I didn't. It was the couch. And then suddenly my dad was on the phone. Doctor, my daughter poured hot soup on my other daughter. What do we do, Janice? The doctor says to take her pants off. And then my mom is standing there screaming at my pantless sister, take your pants off. You need to take your pants off.

And my sister's just looking up at her, already having taken her pants off before they got downstairs.

I don't remember what happened next. That's her story. Mine is that she let my parents think that I had intentionally given her second degree burns in the context of a fight. And I was branded as having anger management issues for the next 16 years of my life, long after the scars on her leg had faded.

Now, I am dramatic by nature.

But after that, I could not slam a door. I couldn't raise my voice or stomp my feet without hearing one of my parents talk about my dangerous little temperature. She's really gonna hurt someone someday.

I often heard my mom talking on the phone, calling me dangerous or sick. And like, the thing about people saying that you have anger management issues is that the more passionately you try to defend yourself.

The more you prove them right. At one point, I remember getting so heated trying to explain that, for the last time, I do not have anger issues.

I literally put my head through the drywall. And then you're like, oh, I just put my head through a wall. So maybe I do have anger issues. The thing is, I still always wanted to please my sister. That never went away. We all did. She was just so sad. So much of the time. As she got older, she would call herself a misanthrope and quote, sartre, l', enfere c' est les autres. Hell is other people. She was at her happiest when the whole family joined together to mock someone, usually me.

So I would get ahead of it by making up mean songs about anyone she didn't like. Now, it didn't feel good making fun of other people, but it was better than being in the hot seat.

I remember the Summer that I came home from college and I told my family that I was going to be a stand up comedian, my sister made it her mission to convince them that this was the worst idea anyone had ever had, ever. So anytime I said anything that night, even if it was like a serious comment, my sister would stop everything and go, wow, you're so funny.

Isn't Jill so funny, everyone?

So by the end of that meal, my parents were deeply concerned about me. The least funny person who has ever lived, ever, trying to pursue a career in comedy. But the thing is, me and my sister also watched legally blonde over 50 times in one summer. She would also take me to build a bear to buy clothes for our cats so that I could make little cat movies.

And anytime that my weight fluctuated in our very fat shamy house in the Heroin chic early 2000s, my sister would take me shopping for clothes that made me feel good about myself again.

So 15 years after I spilled the soup, my sister got engaged and out of pure obligation, deemed me maid of honor. She didn't like, ask or anything. It was just sort of an unwritten rule. Now our relationship had not improved and she was not doing well in advance of that wedding. She was struggling with her own demons, but you wouldn't have known it to look at her. I mean, she looked like a model all the time. She had just gotten her mba. She dressed in like this sort of like flawless New York City glam. Every single one of her dresses was tailored. She had her bachelorette party in South Beach, Florida, and the only guests were me and her best friend Greg. She did not have a lot of friends.

So I remember when I arrived at the hotel, I knew I was going to have my work cut out for me immediately. This amazing green band aid dress hugged her, like perfect curves and she had this gorgeous blowout, but she had.

What I can only describe as, like, Daria.

[Kevin Allison]

Face.

[Jillian Markowitz]

Just this, like, resting I hate my sister face.

This was how I always knew to brace myself for the worst. It was this face. So I was like, okay, what am I? I could tell her she looked stunning, but she would just say, wow, you're stunned. I actually look good. Thanks. I could tell her, I'm so happy to see you, but she would say, thanks, I'm really miserable. Glad someone's happy. I ran through the list of possibilities and outcomes like I did before every time I talked to her. And I landed on I missed you. And I went in for a hug and she took a step back, looked me up and down, and said, Nice crop top.

Damn it, I should have seen that one coming. My family always said that bare midriff is a privilege, not a right. Yes, and I had not earned the right according to their standards.

So she poured herself a glass of champagne, and she was blasting 90s hip hop. And Greg pulled me aside and he was like, do you have any idea what'll cheer her up? I feel bad she's so miserable.

And then I got an idea. So I was like, yeah, it cheers her up to make fun of me.

So make fun of me as much as you need to. Roast the hell out of me. Throw me under the bus. It's fine. Maid of honor duties. And he's like, deal.

I cannot emphasize enough. I was very proud of this plan.

I could be a martyr for a night. And this time it wasn't going to hurt as bad because I'm in on it. It's my plan.

So our plan that night was to go out bar hopping in South Beach. And we went out. I was wearing this strapless navy blue dress from Old Navy. Now, I knew I would never be as, like, conventionally beautiful as my sister with her perfect curves and flawless style. My old Navy dress was $16 and didn't super hold up in South Beach, Florida, on a Saturday night. But I loved it and I felt amazing in it. And we were walking to the first bar when my sister turned to me and she was like, wow, nice dress. And then Greg chimed in, yeah, you must have been, like the youngest person at Dress Barn. My sister cackled. That was the first time she had laughed since I got there. The plan was working.

Greg winked at me and I smirked a little bit. And then my sister stopped laughing. She caught the wink, this unspoken agreement. She didn't say anything, but her face, like, contorted in anger, and there was just this pure hatred in it. And she raised her open hand to the sky and took it straight, full force right across my temple, knocking me to my knees in the middle of the street.

I skinned my knees and my eyes were burning. I remember just seeing gold platforms whizzing by on either side.

They stayed out, but Greg put me in a cab back to the hotel, and I sobbed the whole way there. I tried calling my parents, but they just said, takes two to tango, Jill.

So I called my best friend and I just cried on the phone with her outside of the hotel till I was totally wrung out. I went back to the room, and I fell asleep on the cot in the hotel room in my special Old Navy dress.

My Eyes were still puffy when the sound of the door opening woke me up. And I got out of bed and stood there waiting for my apology. And my sister just stumbled right past me out onto the balcony.

Greg handed her another glass of champagne, and she just started posing at the balcony while he took picture after picture of her.

And I was like, you know, you fucking slapped the shit out of me for no reason.

And then she turned to me, and I saw the same hate in her face. And she said, no reason? You think I hit you for no reason? You are the worst maid of honor anyone has ever had. And the worst sister anyone has ever had. Do you know how much better my life would be if you had never been born?

She kept going, but I couldn't hear her anymore. I just wanted her to stop. I remember screaming, stop, stop, stop.

She'd lost a ton of weight from stress by this point. She couldn't have been more than 100 pounds, teetering on the balcony on the 14th floor in our platforms.

I just wanted it to stop. Why did she hate me so much? And why was this the voice in my head all the time, berating me for everything that I did, judging every move that I made?

And then for a split second.

I thought about how easy it would be to just push her. And how it was maybe the only way to make her stop. To make it stop, to get this voice out of my head forever.

I ran out of the room and curled up on the floor in the hotel hallway. And I fell asleep on the floor in the hallway, terrified of myself. What I was capable of. My dangerous temper that was really going to hurt someone.

The next morning, we'd been supposed to fly home together, but I knew I had to change my flight. So I snuck into the room early and I grabbed my stuff and I went to the airport. But there were no earlier flights. So I was just stuck at the airport for five hours. And I sat at the bar where I met a nice musician named Coca, who, in retrospect, was absolutely trying to sleep with me. But because I was too weary and, like, stupid to notice, we just wrote this awesome song together.

So I'm writing my song with Coca when I see my sister is standing next to me. She has found me. She's now wearing sweatpants and a messy bun. So I'm like, what do you want? And she holds up a bag and she says.

I bought us Barbies.

This was it, her apology. She thought that after everything that she had said and done, she could still buy me off with a game. Of fucking Barbies.

And she was right about that. Turns out even at the age of 21, I was powerless to say no to playing a game of Barbies with my sister.

And that's what we did. The entire flight home, we played Barbies, not once mentioning anything that had happened the previous night or the previous 15 years.

Our relationship is better now. I mean, full disclosure, I, like, wrote and submitted this story while we were in a fight, and then I felt really bad about it immediately, but she's kind of being a bitch again, so I feel really good about this.

I know that's weird, and I don't fully get it either. And I know that not every sister relationship is as fucked up as mine. Like, we went from literally almost killing each other, literally, to playing Barbies in less than 24 hours.

But I think that what you have to understand is that with sisters, love and hate sit uncomfortably close, often wearing matching outfits.

We'll be right back.

[Kevin Allison]

Limu Emu and Doug. Here we have the Limu Emu in its natural habitat, helping people customize their car insurance and save hundreds with Liberty Mutual. Fascinating. It's accompanied by his natural ally, Doug.

[Jillian Markowitz]

Uh, Limu is that guy with the binoculars watching us.

[Kevin Allison]

Cut the camera. They see us. Only pay for what you [e-mail] Liberty, Liberty, Liberty.

[Jillian Markowitz]

Liberty Savings Ferry unwritten by Liberty Mutual.

[Kevin Allison]

Insurance Company Affiliates excludes Massachusetts.

[Von Miller]

What's up, world is Von Miller, super bowl mvp, chicken farmer, and now host of Free Range. This is a show where I go off the field and off the script. We're talking what's hot in music, film, trending news, and everything blowing up your feed. If you love football, you'll feel at home. But if you're here for the vibes, the Internet deep dives the conversation. This is your podcast. Join me every Wednesday. Follow and listen to Free Free Range with me, Vaughn Miller, everywhere. You get your podcast.

[Kevin Allison]

We're back.

This is Risk, and we just heard from Gillian Markowitz. She can be found on Amazon prime where she plays Marge in the Stranger Things spoof. Weirder stuff. And in Brooklyn, battle comedy on Independent Wrestling TV as her wrestler alter ego, Jilly Entitlement. And you can find her at Jillian Markowitz.

Now, next, we're going to hear that story from David Joseph. But first, there's a new bonus story out now from Audrey Avera on our Patreon. And it sounds a little bit like this.

[Audrey Avera]

God made me special. God made me different. There's no one in the whole world just like me. And I thought that was so great.

[Jillian Markowitz]

So great, so great.

[Audrey Avera]

And so time went on and I got a little and I started to read things for myself and think a little bit for myself, which is not really what you're supposed to do.

Come to find out you're not supposed to. Being special really isn't a good characteristic in this particular church.

[Kevin Allison]

And there's plenty more where that came from. Free storytelling, education materials, watching our live shows from anywhere in the world, getting an ad free feed of the podcast, and most importantly, making it possible for risk to continue. You can do that with a one time donation at PayPal me risk or just join our patreon at patreon.com risk and it's gift giving time. You can give the gift of Risk to a fan in your life. You can gift them a patreon [e-mail] risk gift. Now next up, that story from David Joseph. And it's a story we call Queer Fears.

[David Joseph]

The thing about me, I was a weird kid at a time when being black and weird was not really permitted. My father, Rex, he always found my weirdness off putting.

I like just, you know, isolating myself from people, writing stories, drawing pictures, making comics, making characters and just kind of living in my own little world because the world around me just made no sense. I just lived there. The thing about my dad, he is an immigrant, came over from the West Indies when he was a child, maybe 13 years old. His father and mother left him and his siblings alone on the island and started a life here in the US and then after about almost a decade, brought the rest of their four kids over. When they came over, they had a little surprise waiting for them. Their parents had another kid, Ron, when I was born, I didn't know Ron. He left for Houston, Texas many years before I was born.

My father was very strict about the roles of a black man, particularly heavily on the man bit. He always thought I was a little odd. He kind of tolerated it until I turned nine. One day, staying at my grandmother's house, I discovered a show called Pee Wee's Playhouse. I became obsessed with Pee Wee Herman. This weird guy who talked funny. Literally built his own little magical world around him. I just resonated with that so much.

I was too young to really understand why that bothered my father until I realized many years later that he thought Pee Wee Herman was gay. And my obsession with Pee Wee Herman was slowly turning me gay. Of course, I did not know this as a child. So my grandmother was English. My mom is English. They're white people from England, which is about as white as you can humanly get.

So my grandmother, she saw how much I loved Pee Wee Herman, so she bought me a talking Pee Wee Herman doll. And I loved that thing so much.

One day I woke up and the doll was gone. My dad had thrown it away. Snuck into my room in the middle of night and threw it away.

My dad's mission at that point in time was to make me as straight as humanly fucking possible. His idea was action movies. Show me action movies. So he would show me all these R rated movies. Some of the violence was a little bit too much for me because again, kind of an innocent child. I remember we watched Predator together, and I couldn't help but notice that it was a bunch of oily, muscly men with their shirts off hanging out in the jungle. And even as a child, I was thinking that was the gayest thing I've ever seen in my life. Again, not really understanding anything about sexuality because I was 10 at the time.

My dad's panic went into full overdrive when I was 13, going on 15 once again. @ my grandmother's house, we'd watch these Saturday TV movies, and I saw a movie called the Rocky Horror Picture Show. At the very instant that Tim Curry came down in that elevator, I knew something was off. I wasn't gay, but I certainly wasn't straight as well.

But again, I still was an odd child who was outside the norm and didn't really fit in anywhere. And my dad continued to find ways to butch me up.

Then two years later, I turned 15, and out of nowhere, my Uncle Ron returned to town. And my dad was ecstatic because back in the day, Uncle Ron was the pinnacle of masculinity. He was always A bachelor, nearly 7ft tall, used to play basketball. Basketball. Wore tailored suits, always perfect hair, drove a purple Cadillac everywhere. The women loved him, my cousins loved him. He was just the coolest black man you've ever met in your life. So my dad excitedly decided to take me to meet him. So that drove us to Uptown Manhattan. 90th street on the west side, right by Zabar's. We went into this really old building. It was a fancy neighborhood, super fancy. So fancy you kind of had to sign in. It was that kind of fancy place. Excitedly, my dad took me upstairs to meet my Uncle Ron. Ron lived in this really tiny apartment. It was about the size of a walk in closet. He said he's waiting for one of the rooms upstairs to open so he could, you know, move in. But, you know, he's just working his way up in this small space was this very tall man, perfectly plucked mustache, beautiful combover. The man looked like he walked out of a 40s movie. Just a man from another time. He shook my hand, vice like grip. And his voice felt like a warm hug. My dad introduced me, I introduced myself and he says, oh, you're Rex's son. That's amazing. Oh, you look like him. You look just like him. And you know, we start talking, tell him that I love to do artwork. And he's like, oh, man, I used to do artwork when I worked in. I used to have this radio show down there in Houston. It was a pretty good gig, you know, I just, you know, kind of trailed off a bit. But he had a charm that kind of just filled in all the blank spaces.

Few weeks later, my dad suggested that me and Uncle Ron hang out. Give me a chance to be like a real man in a man's world. Dad gave me $20, 20 bucks in 1995 to a 15 year old. So I took the train, went uptown to my uncle's place, and there is Uncle Ron waiting outside his building, dressed to the nines, beautiful mustache, hair freshly pulled back. He tells me, listen, I know we're gonna go someplace, a museum or something, but I really need to go to the pharmacy. It's a little ways away, but, you know, it's still a beautiful day. We could go sightseeing out there.

We take the train down to South Ferry and we take the Staten Island Ferry to Staten Island. We take this bus down to this really, I would say, sketchy neighborhood in Staten island. And we go to this bodega. There's a husky man with dreads. My Uncle Ron introduces me. David, this is my friend Paul. Paul, this is my nephew David. Paul looks at me a little bit confused and says, oh, shit, you got a nephew up in here. Oh, man, that's crazy.

Yo, so, yeah, that's crazy that you got your nephew here. Oh, man, you brought your nephew. That's. Man, that's. You brought your nephew, man. That's. Wow, that's your nephew, man. Oh, man, he looks just like you, man. Oh, man.

[Kevin Allison]

That'S.

[David Joseph]

Wow.

Uncle Ron turns to me and says, can you just wait out here for a minute? We're just gonna go inside. Do you want anything to drink? You know, get you a Coke, Pepsi or anything? Said, oh, I'd love a cherry Pepsi. So Uncle Ron and Paul disappear into the bodega. They stand on the street. It's a beautiful sunny day, not a cloud in the sky. Not even a minute. Uncle Ron pops out a little pep in a step. Hey, I know this great little diner right around here. They make amazing split feet soup. Let's give some lunch. You hungry, right? Of course. Ron tells me tales of his wild childhood playing basketball. We get to the diner and Ron goes to the bathroom.

When Ron gets back, I notice his behavior is different. He's a little bit more agitated, a little high strung. The waitress comes by and asks us what we want. I order a burger and fries and a cherry Coke because I did not get a cherry Coke. Uncle Ron orders split pea soup. The waitress tells him, we don't have any split pea suit today. Uncle Ron goes.

His whole body convulses in a way that makes me feel a little bit embarrassed. The waitress is a little annoyed. He says, do you have any soup? The waitress says, I have soup of the day. It's chicken soup. I'll get the chicken soup.

So we have lunch. We head back on the Staten island ferry. And then Uncle Ron's demeanor changes again. He gets a little sad.

And his stories get depressing almost. He talks about how he never felt accepted by his siblings. Dad was the only one who really accepted him, wanted to talk to him. The rest of his siblings were jealous that he was born here in the US and they had to struggle in the islands and how it hurt him, how it sent him down a terrible path. He had so many regrets in his life that this is how it all ends up for him. I saw the mask slip and I saw a very sad, broken man. And I couldn't understand. He seemed like he had everything. Why was he so, so sad?

We head back to his apartment.

He said, I'll make my way upstairs. It's good seeing you, nephew. Start looking at the lobby. I notice that it's not really an apartment. Lobby seems more like a doctor's office almost. I noticed for the first time the flyers. Living with HIV surviving aids.

At that moment, I realized that my Uncle Ron was not in an apartment that he bought. It was a hospice for AIDS patients. My uncle, who was an enigma to everyone, was dying of aids.

I thought, well, my dad knows this, and he wanted me to spend time with his brother before his brother passed. That was so sweet of my father.

I went back home, saw my dad, and my dad was very happy, very proud that I got to see how amazing Uncle Ron was. He says, did he introduce you to a lot of ladies? Because, you know, that's Uncle Ron. That's Uncle Ron. He introduced you a Lot of ladies. At that point, I realized my dad didn't know. Uncle Ron didn't tell anyone. For the first time in a while, my dad seemed proud of me. So I decided not to to say anything.

Uncle Ron lived for another 10 years, appearing and disappearing.

And one day my dad got a call that Uncle Ron had passed and we had to go to his room and pick up his things.

So we both went there. He had finally gotten the big apartment upstairs. That's where he got to spend the last few years of his life. We went through his things and my dad saw his medical documents. And I see it shook my dad that he never knew this, that going through all of Uncle Ron's things. He could not fathom the pain that my Uncle Ron was in.

Uncle Ron didn't have any money left, so he was cremated. He couldn't afford a funeral. So me, my father and my Uncle Malcolm went to my grandparents grave site and buried my uncle's ashes where he could spend time with his parents.

My father passed away last year.

I was an enigma to my father and.

My dad was an enigma to me as well.

What I learned from Uncle Ron is you don't have to tell people anything about yourself. You can just be who they want you to be. You don't have to ruin that for people. You can just be a myth, a legend.

And you get to be remembered as a fucking icon.

But I also saw where that ends up.

Alone in an apartment, surrounded by the few memories of the good times of your.

[Kevin Allison]

Life.

This is risk. This is more Ideogram behind me now. And we just heard from David Joseph, who you can find on Instagram @drexlives. I'll tell you, that ending of that story is so striking to me. I remember years ago, early on in the podcast, I talked about how in my experience sharing stories here, I found that I would reveal some aspect of myself to the audience in a story and feel like I had kind of pulled a veil away from my face, but then sometimes also feel like I'd slipped another one right under it. You know, in the act of coming out about this or that or the other, sometimes you can't help but use the winning formulas that your psyche has developed over the years to make things palatable or relatable. For example, early on a lot of my stories were about being kinky. But I was extra careful to be happy and kind and friendly, seeming in the way that I was telling the stories, so that anyone who might think, ugh, he's kinky, Ugh, creepy. Would instead think, oh, that's funny. He sounds like someone I might be friends with, even if I think his sex life is weird, you know? And the original example of that in my life is how I became the class clown in kindergarten because I already knew I was gay at that age and felt like, oh, my God, people are gonna find out that there's this really fucked up part of me, so I better make them like me, think I'm likable, before they find out that I'm also gay. Right? So a lot of you might know how I've always. Well, not always, but in the past, I don't know, however many years, I've been kind of obsessed with Taoism, at least the philosophical side of it. And the famous opening line of the Tao Te Ching is, the dao that can be named mind is not the true dao, or another translation is the dao that can be expressed is not the true Tao, meaning that truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth can never be captured in words. The whole natural essence of something just can't be defined. The moment you put anything into words, if you're really being honest, you'd have to then say, on the other hand, though, or, but if I'm really being honest, there's another aspect to all that. You know what I mean? And you could go on like that forever. And Gillian's story is an example. You know, there was a gap between when she first pitched the story and then when she performed it at a Risk show. And at that time, I remember her saying, you know, my sister and I, we have really talked through a lot of this, and we agree to disagree about parts of the story. And also we just forgive each other or accept each other about other aspects of all of this. So I really appreciate how both seem to know that that story is. Is one side of the story. It's only one sister's side. Right. But they continue to at least attempt to come to terms, in any case, to deal with the fact that there's. There's. There's always going to be more to that story. Right? But I found the ending of David's story especially haunting because one of the reasons we can tell stories is to break through loneliness. Carl Jung said that loneliness does not come from not having people around. It comes from feeling unable to share with people what feels important to you. It comes from feeling like some of your thoughts and feelings, were you to express them, might. Might not be held with respect or acceptance or empathy by others. So that's what this show is all about helping people feel heard and helping people hear other people. So this has all been on my mind a lot lately because I've started making lots of videos now for social media and for our Patreon. You know, we're constantly told you're in a dying genre. No one listens to stuff anymore. You've got to be on video. And so I've started, you know, I want the audience out there to know that I'm still here. And these little videos where I talk about how I'm doing in Bangkok, these three minute videos, you know, about what I'm thinking about, stories we've been working on for the show.

How I'm connecting with people over here, how I dearly hope that I find some way eventually to be connecting with people over here as profoundly as I've been able to connect with, you know, listeners in the States and Canada, the UK and whatever. But it's always so weird to.

[Jillian Markowitz]

Think.

[Kevin Allison]

Think.

Now that I'm in this new medium again video, I'm thinking, you know, what am I sharing and what am I leaving out? What aspect of the Persona of Kevin in Bangkok that I'm building today is real and how real is it, you know, one three minute video at a time? Am I creating new masks or new veils? I don't know. It's the never ending question. In any case, if you don't follow my Instagram, I'm hekevinalison. Same on TikTok and a ton of other platforms, but I'm probably most active on Instagram. And so much of all of that, those three minute videos or 90 second videos, whatever, they get reaction posted on Risk social media too, which is always riskshow everywhere. Because I'm mostly talking to you. I'm mostly still, you know, even though it's video and social media, I'm still talking to you, the Risk audience in those videos mostly. So let me know how much you think I'm telling the truth or putting on an act. I guess if I was like David Joseph's uncle, it would have to come out after my death that I was actually a vanilla heterosexual, right? With very low sex drive.

So maybe not that much of an act, but see for yourself. Okay, folks, now coming on Thursday, we're going to be looking back at an episode from 12 years ago when with stories by the truly amazing Nayland Blake and Amanda Agye. So look for desire to drop in your feed and feed on it. Feed on that desire. That'll do it for We Are Family. This episode was directed by John LaSalla. Jillian Markowitz's story was coached by David Crabb and edited by by Taj Easton. David Joseph's story was also coached by David Crab and also edited and sound designed by Taj Easton. Thanks to our business director, J.C. cassis, plus our casting director, Cindy Freeman, who's always looking for your story [e-mail] submissions and of course, I have been your first host. Kevin Allison As I've been told to tell you in this new script here.

Folks, today's the day. Take a risk.

Sam.