The Kaleidoscopic Hues of Austin’s Queer Comedy Gems

Though her origins are Hill Country – Lampasas, specifically – the true precision cut of Amy Beth Castleberry’s comedy started in Denver, Colorado, in 2022. There, she took stand-up 101 from 12-year comedy scene veteran Christie Buchele.

“It was wonderful,” Castleberry recalls. “I just decided, well, let’s try. Let’s keep going.” 

With enough material provided from her divorce, which Castleberry describes as her comedy’s “engine starter,” she found a firm place within the Denver comedy scene to continue honing her funny facets. But, in 2024, family issues and personal restlessness convinced Castleberry to return to Austin. Her goal wasn’t to shake up the local atmosphere, although she did “[dip] my toes into it here and there when I first moved back.” 

And then, the oft-cowgirl-hatted comic caught everyone’s attention. Using her degree in fine arts and graphic design skills, Castleberry funneled all her experiences with Austin’s current “overrepresentation of this manosphere culture” into an Instagram post detailing her findings, which went mega viral. The origins of her investigation – and what drove her to make that information public – was a frustration with how hostile many open mic comedy show lineups were to women, queer people, and people of color, as she observed an overabundance of white men performing solely for each other with problematic material promoting crueler comedy. That atmosphere often forced women and other marginalized comics to assimilate into what Castleberry calls “boys’ club” comedy. 

“It’s sad that we have to feel like we have to keep ourselves safe,” she says. “I mean, of course, we want to read the room, but also, we want to feel safe. We don’t want to walk in and people are bragging about being racist. We don’t want to walk in and men are bragging about drugging drinks. We don’t! We don’t want to hear that in a bar where there’s drinks. Like, hello?”

Rather than catering to a culture obsessed with quick controversial takes, Castleberry takes a slow-and-steady approach to getting her jokes as perfect as possible. “A lot of the jokes that I’m out here doing at open mics now are jokes that I’ve been doing pretty much the whole time that I’ve started comedy,” she explains, “because that’s how long it’s taken for them to get polished.” Ideas flow in from conversations she can’t stop replaying, silly thoughts, and even stuff she’s been processing in therapy. As a frequent open mic attendee – she estimates she’s hit 51 this year alone – Castleberry’s not afraid to work something out onstage, but she also knows when a bit needs rest. “I’ve had to set some jokes down and then come back to them,” she says, “and they’ve only gotten better.”

Gemstone Match:

Agate forms multicolored bands of alternating colored quartz crystal after roasting within volcanic rock. Similarly, Castleberry describes herself at 35 years old as “slow cooked enough in my slow cooker to bring out some of the things that I’ve learned and want to point to within my comedy.” 

Current Whereabouts:

Her monthly stand-up showcase Cozy Comedy, which Castleberry hosts at hash hot spot Cozy Cannabis, offers not just special guests but also an open mic portion. The next date is Thursday, Sept. 3, but you can read about our canna-columnist Elizabeth Bradshaw’s experience at this month’s show on p.14.

The members of the Garage improv troupe all share different comedy origin stories, from Malia Moss discovering 30 Rock in high school to Lindsey Walther’s Segway tour-guide co-worker suggesting she try out improv. But there’s a pretty singular reason behind the all-women and nonbinary troupe’s emergence: the need for a non male-centric improv ensemble. Moss and Walther have been in Garage since the group’s start, when at-the-time artistic director for the New Movement – which later became Fallout Theater – Yamina Khouane suggested a femme-forward show. 

“It was a very male-centered set of weekly shows,” Moss recalls of the New Movement’s 2017 lineup, “and [Khouane] was like, ‘I want a woman show. I want all women. So let’s make this happen.’” 

While Moss and Walther have remained within the Garage fold since 2017, many improv stars have entered and exited the lineup since, including Y’all We Asian co-founder Yola Lu, Xaria Coleman of Austin PBS’s Xaria Does It!, and even 2026 Best of Austin® winner Roxy Castillo (featured in this very feature!). When Molly Moore entered the troupe in 2020, she’d already been a Garage devotee for years. 

“I felt like I’d won a radio contest when I got to improvise with them,” she remembers. Along the same lines, 2024 addition Stephanie Vasquez Fonseca recalls officially joining after being an adoring audience member. “‘Whoa! I get to come and be around all these awesome women?’” they thought. “‘That’s so rad.’”

Host of Slide in the DMs, Buzzkill at the Buzz Mill, and all-around stand-up star Angelina Martin is also a recent member and producer. Having joined the cast in 2024, she’s pulled from her extensive experience in Austin’s stand-up scene to book women and nonbinary comics as openers for Garage. Her aim is folks still fresh enough to the stage “that they’re down to come to a little basement theatre, but experienced enough that they can deliver a 15-minute set.” 

Funny people falling into that category aren’t hard to find. Martin says Austin’s got a great deal of talented women, nonbinary, and queer comics, and they’re all pretty stoked to patronize Garage’s green room. “Most people are delighted by the kind of refreshing femme energy,” she says. “We’ve had several people remark, ‘I’ve never been in an all-woman green room before.’” 

Garage was born before any Mothership landed or Tony was killed, but their tenure isn’t the only unique aspect of the troupe – nor is their lineup’s gender makeup. When the troupe started, Walther recalls, their home venue wasn’t very keen on improv based on audience suggestion, but as scholars of the ColdTowne Theater style, that was their preferred entertainment engine. However, unlike the usual shout-out-anything request popular with most – and often male – improvisers, “we were taking a suggestion in the form of a song,” Walther explains, “so it already felt a little bit like we were breaking out from that … male-dominated mold.” 

Over the years, Garage has gone from a living room format, where cast members would take a suggestion from the audience and then chat amongst themselves to develop the improv performance’s foundational details, to a style more akin to crowd work. Their early style felt “very about us,” Walther remembers, and so the cast decided to instead interrogate – in a fun way – the audience member whose song suggestion they picked. 

“Sometimes they’re like, ‘I don’t know. I just thought it’d be funny to say,’” Walther says, “and we’re like, ‘That’s fine. When did you first hear about it? Was it cool? Okay, what were you like then?’ It doesn’t have to be about the musician necessarily. We just want a story.” Those stories then form the improv performance’s comedy bedrock – details that the cast can refer to and connect with as they weave together the show.

Fonseca says what stands out most in their Garage memories are the times when audience members suggest songs by artists they’re unfamiliar with, as those are the ones where the suggester’s connection to the song becomes crucial. “When people start talking about why [the songs are] important to them or the memory attached to them – I’m thinking on the woman who talked about her dad playing [the song] on this tiny little TV – I think those inspire me more than the artists themselves or the songs,” says Fonseca. “Sometimes it’s really cool seeing what memories people tie to what songs.”

Frequent artists shouted out are Nickelback, Taylor Swift, and Michael Jackson, but each member has their own white whale. (Walther confesses she hopes for Dr. John.) But over years of audience suggestions, the troupe’s come to trust them as much as they trust their fellow improvisers.

“We trust our audience more now,” says Walther, “and they’ve been doing a great job anyway. But as a team, we feel strong enough and have performed with each other enough, too, that I’m just never worried about what the audience story is because I’m like, ‘We’re gonna figure it out.’”

Gemstone Match:

The durable and often multi-hued spinel matches the long-running and multi-talented Garage improv troupe, who’ve changed a lot since their start both in format and lineup. Yet their dedication to showcasing funny women and nonbinary comics from many different comedy schools offers the same promise of energy and perseverance that clutching this colorful crystal does.

Current Whereabouts:

Garage happens every Thursday at Fallout Theater with a rotating cast and stand-up opener.

A classically trained actor, Jose Da’Hype first fell in love with the stage at 8 years old in a New Orleans summer camp theatre class. There, through games and “being silly,” they were totally enamored with acting as an outlet for an already-burgeoning imagination. When their theatre teacher asked for volunteers for an end-of-camp skit about an opera being disturbed by a rude audience member, Da’Hype’s hand went up right away. 

“I remember that thrill that I got from looking out at the audience, and it felt like forever being on that stage,” they say. “The skit was no more than about four or five minutes long, but it just felt like eons. I soaked up every minute of it. My little child heart said, ‘Yes! I want to perform. I want to be onstage. I want to entertain people.’”

Da’Hype’s acting education set them apart from many who enter the comedy sphere totally unpracticed onstage, but they didn’t consider pursuing stand-up until a cartoon horse suggested it. 

“I was watching an episode of BoJack Horseman,” they recall. “I know, I know. How quaint. But I was just like, ‘Oh, I forgot [stand-up comedy] is an avenue for people to see you and put you in television shows.’” 

At the time located in Atlanta, Da’Hype did their first set at the Punchline Comedy Club and, once again, they were in love. That enchantment continued even after a move to Austin during 2020’s global pandemic, and after producing online comedy content for two years, they returned to the stage. 

“I met Angelina Martin and Sarah Spear, who brought me on to TexAss,” Da’Hype says, referencing a set they performed with the local comedians at the Creek and the Cave. “I remember that set was so damn good.”

Keen observation skills offer the grit Da’Hype uses to shine up their set. “I people-watch a lot,” they explain, “and I’m hypervigilant about my surroundings. When I’m out and about, I’m looking at other people, and I’m having stories in my head going about them.” Whether they’re pulling from other people or from their personal experiences, the process of punchline development is “almost instantaneous,” says Da’Hype. “In my head, I’m thinking something funny, and I’m like, ‘Oh wow, that would be hilarious!’ And the next thing you know, I’m onstage and I’m telling it.” 

They still include long-running jokes in their act that have been honed through repeat performances, but improvisation is absolutely key. “You performed [the material] a million times, but in one instance, you could have something cross your mind right in the middle of that joke, and you just do it,” Da’Hype says, “and it ends up being one of the funniest things.”

Gemstone Match:

Rubies represent passion and vitality, which lines up with how Da’Hype describes their own comedy style – political, satirical, raunchy, and “f*ggoty.” Only one of the hardest jewel stones could handle their hot takes. As they put it, “I might not be everybody’s cup of tea, but I am somebody’s cup of piss, so I’m gonna piss somebody off.”

Current Whereabouts:

While Da’Hype can usually be found hosting their monthly stand-up showcase Your Favorite Cuzins at ColdTowne Theater, after August’s show they’ll be off on an international comedy trip through Europe. But never fear: They’re also working on an hourlong stand-up special that’ll be filmed in four cities and released in four parts. Fans of last year’s holiday show The E(Xmas)ist can also rejoice, as Da’Hype – who played Krampus – will be doing another yuletide production this year. 

Longtime readers of the Chron’s Best of Austin® poll will recognize one Roxy Castillo, who has excelled not only on the burlesque stage but also, most recently, won out in the Best Stand-up Comic category. Sharpening her stand-up has been a longtime pursuit for Castillo ever since she first tested her talent in a Denver community college theatre class “that was just called ‘Comedy,’” she recalls. 

“Part of the curriculum was learning stand-up,” Castillo explains, “and at the end of the semester, there was this big showcase, and you had to audition for the one stand-up spot.” Diligent in doing her homework by going to open mics, she eventually scored the coveted showcase spot: “That was just the first time that I was like, ‘Oh, all my quirks make sense.’” 

When creating her sets, Castillo says she’s always updating the material to match her most current form. “Jokes that I wrote 10 years ago absolutely do not apply because I’m not that person anymore,” she explains. “I feel like the art that I like to do onstage is very of the moment.” The push she feels to evolve as a performer isn’t tied to political or current event-based material – ”I love that other people can do it, but it just doesn’t sound good coming out of my mouth” – but instead her personal growth. Set refreshes happen “every time I have a breakdown,” Castillo jokes. 

She moved to Austin in the late Aughts thanks to the city’s frequent assertion of its weirdness, which Castillo says assured that her own weirdness would be welcome. While living on William Cannon, she rode her bike Downtown to hit up open mics at the Velveeta Lounge and started making friends. “Doing comedy is like a built-in social group,” she says. “So much [of] what made my transition from Denver to here was, like, instant friends. Even if I didn’t like them, it’s still people to hang out with and people to be part of an ecosystem with … that’s also part of why I’ll probably never quit performing, because I need to be part of a pond.”

That pond has changed throughout her time swimming in it, as Castillo says what was formerly one comedy scene is now more spread out. “Back then there was an open mic every night of the week,” she says. “You saw the same people at those same places … There was a clearer path of what success looked like, like certain showcase shows, hosting at Cap City, hosting at the Velveeta Room, moving into feature, winning Funniest Person in Austin. There was a very clear success path that I think now is kind of convoluted.” 

In the current Austin comedy era, Castillo says, “it’s so subjective.” But while the shake-ups delivered by social media’s rise and the Mothership’s landing have muddied once crystalline waters, a separate queer comedy scene has also formed. 

“Historically, there wasn’t a queer comedy scene,” Castillo says. “It just was The Scene, and so I think we have to kind of create our own audience, because what’s being presented here [in the mainstream scene] … it’s changed so much, and maybe doesn’t represent the Austin that I know. So the fact that there even is a specialized group of 25-plus stand-up comedians that identify as queer is still just wild to me – that it has to be its own little pocket. 

“Not that all of these comics, it’s not like they’re not integrated into the bigger [scene], but I’ve just never seen it just be like, ‘This is our room.’”

Castillo’s prediction for Austin’s comedy future: “Nothing but up, baby. Nothing but up. I feel so optimistic about who we are as a city.” As a transplant herself, she confesses faith in “the people who are drawn to Austin, whether they’ve been here a short time or not,” and sees the process of change as eternal but not world-ending. “Things just change so quickly,” Castillo says. “We can print this and be like, ‘Oh, this is what the Austin comedy scene is like.’ In three months, it’s going to be different … I just feel really optimistic that the queer comedians are going to continue to evolve with things and be the change makers, the agents of evolution, because like, isn’t that just what we do anyway?”

Gemstone Match:

Sapphires are often known for their blue hue, but the gem Castillo most matches is the color-change sapphire – a rare variety that reflects different colors under different lights. The ever-changing comedian shines in new shimmering shades each time she steps onstage, where her comedy illustrates the sapphire’s symbolic qualities of wisdom & sincerity. 

Current Whereabouts:

While Castillo’s still riding the high of her BOA®, she stepped back from the spotlight momentarily. Check her socials for the next time she sparkles up a local showcase.

Early comedy influences for DEI Comedy’s producing partners couldn’t be more different. While Erik Holden describes his childhood with younger parents being immersed in Nineties zeitgeist comedy (Kids in the Hall, In Living Color, and era-specific SNL), Everett Bragg says growing up in Anchorage, Alaska, offered little pop culture to consume. He didn’t feel the absence, however, because “my family are huge storytellers,” he says. “They are jack of all trades, getting up to shenanigans. They’re always doing something silly, always the life of the party.” At odds with a family that was “just a joke in [itself],” Bragg says he ended up “painfully serious” as a result. It wasn’t until the COVID outbreak in 2020 that he dug into stand-up. Interest in the art form got him to look up queer open mic Tongue in Cheek, which ended up being his and Holden’s first meeting place. 

A U.S. Army veteran, Holden had been stationed in Austin several years previous, but had hopped back to his hometown of Phoenix, Arizona, for college before returning to ATX. A military friend invited him to an open mic at Sunset Strip on Sixth Street and, with only two jokes written, Holden took the plunge. 

“I went up and I read my two jokes to a chess club that was celebrating a win, and they laughed,” he recalls, “and then I just kept riffing until I saw the light, and then I just kept going because I didn’t know what the light meant. And then over the speaker, they’re like, ‘Okay!’ and I’m like, ‘Oh, that’s it! I ripped the Band-Aid off.’” 

Initially bouncing around what he calls the “Rogan-sphere” – referring to podcaster Joe Rogan and the comedy orbit that extends from his Downtown venue, Comedy Mothership – Holden says he wasn’t even aware a queer stand-up scene existed until he caught a mention of Tongue in Cheek in the newspaper. “I was nervous,” he says, “but I’ve never gotten so comfortable in a space, and it really just helped me grow.”

When Tongue in Cheek threw its final show last June – as then-host Ivy Le was moving to Berlin – Bragg and Holden weren’t ready to let go of the queer comedy community created there. “I reached out to him and was like, ‘Hey, I’ve never run a stand-up show. I’ve never done this before, but I’m a manager in corporate America. I can plan events. I can talk to people. Can you help me? Are you down to do this? Do you think this is a good idea?’” Bragg remembers. “And, of course, Holden was like, ‘You’re dumb. Good idea.’” 

Produced from their partnership was – and is – DEI Comedy, which was inspired not just by a desire to re-create the open mic energy that brought them together but to expand its scope. 

As someone holding multiple identities himself – “I’m mixed, I’m a veteran, I’m trans, I’m all these different things” – Holden boasts DEI’s main attribute as not letting stereotypes rule the stage. To him, that means inviting queer comics, Black comics, and even white cisgender heterosexual comics with whole sets about their autism. 

“You can’t put yourself in a box,” Holden explains. “I feel like a lot of cis straight comedians that are white guys, they tend to do that … I want these people to find the space that they feel comfortable doing comedy [in] that may be experimental, that may be alternative, but that is not punching down but punching up, and in their own way.” 

Holden describes himself as a “big brewer” when developing jokes. “If something bothers me, it just sticks, and then I just keep piling on why it bothers me,” he explains. “Finally, it’ll get to a point where I just have to tell someone.” Spilled out onstage, then, are all his ridiculous complaints in an almost Larry David-esque rant, but that outrageous outpouring isn’t without direction. He’s learned over his comedy career what works in which rooms, such as when to lead with being trans or lead with his veteran status. 

“Make them comfortable,” Holden says of his audience approach. “Make them like you, and then say, ‘Hey, I don’t bite. Guess what? I’m trans.’”

For his part, Bragg says his style leans more storytime. Through long-form writing, he invites the audience into his own life experiences as a passing trans man. He’s also taken stand-up-specific writing courses with Austin scene stalwart (and a 2023 Best of Austin® winner for “Best All-Around Champion of Comedy”) Rochelle McConico, where Bragg says “I got a lot better understanding [of] the actual formula that is stand-up, where it is essentially like: Set expectations, subvert them, right? Set expectations, ruin them. Set expectations, go above them.” Predisposed to longer sets – he estimates 10-15 minutes usually – Bragg admits that the most important stand-up skill is adaptability, as he exercised at this year’s Funniest Person in Austin four-minute timed set. 

“I don’t think jokes are ever done,” he says. “I literally was just telling Holden that [it’s] always so upsetting for me because every single set is different [and] every single audience is different. Even the people that you’re on the lineup with will change the way your jokes are.”

Since the two started their mini comedy empire, common complimentary feedback has been that they actually talk to the comics on their lineups. “It’s just nice to be nice to each other,” Bragg says. “Like you know, we go to open mics, and the hosts that we know – that we have been on shows with – will not engage, will not make eye contact, will not even give us a ’sup nod.” 

Developing community through friendly interpersonal engagement not only makes DEI’s events welcoming – it encourages participants’ growth as performers. “We have a lot of people that do come to our shows and say that one of their favorite things about it is just that they actually work on their jokes,” Bragg says. “They get good feedback and they talk to the other comics about the feedback.” 

“I think we’re at a point where that Rogan-sphere wave is starting to crash,” says Holden of Austin’s comedy future. “What I see about queer comedy, I see that renaissance. I see that wave, and I see it starting to crest. And I know at some point, especially for us here in Austin – which is still weird – it’s gonna come here, and we’re gonna bring it. We’re gonna bring it back because the weird never left. You just gotta look for it.”

Gemstone Match:

Formed by several silicate groups into one deep red gemstone, the garnet best exemplifies the combined power of comedy show producing partners Bragg and Holden. That the stone symbolizes friendship is almost too on the nose given their joyfully jointed work, but that it’s also known as a protective gem perfectly represents the inclusive and supportive stage they offer at DEI Comedy’s events. 

Current Whereabouts:

DEI Comedy has two main comedy shows running monthly: a stand-up open mic called Try Hard Mic on second Tuesdays, and the showcase Anybody But Tony on fourth Thursdays, both at Barrett’s Too. They’ve also recently added the LGBTQIA-centric Queer Mic, an open mic held on first Thursdays at Originator Studios.