Torian Miller and Felonious Munk (Teresa Castracane)

There’s no one way to be black. This is the primary message of The Second City’s Black Side of the Moon, currently at Woolly Mammoth.

The famed Chicago comedy troupe Second City, which gave the world John Belushi, Bill Murray, and Tina Fey, among many others, has had a fruitful relationship with Woolly Mammoth—we reviewed their last Woolly show here. This time, the company brings an all African-American cast, and the point is that it is still a diverse group.

Throughout the show, The Nightly Show vet Felonius Munk repeats the refrain “We are not a monolith,” referring to the group of comedians and sketch artists that make up the Second City ensemble. With stand-up, sketch comedy, and song, six men and women take the audience on a two hour journey through the concept of blackness in America. But outside of a shared skin tone, each performer possesses a unique stage presence.

With the increasing mainstream proliferation of African-American pop culture, from Kendrick Lamar’s album To Pimp A Butterfly to Donald Glover’s TV setries Atlanta, the phrase “unapologetically black” has become a ubiquitous identifier in criticism. It’s not the worst shorthand to explain what makes Black Side of the Moon such a special live experience.

From the moment you set foot in the theater, you’re treated to a giant painting on stage emblazoned “Michelle 2020” with the first lady sporting a beautiful ‘fro. When the show begins, an announcer asks attendees to stand for the national anthem before Beyoncé’s “Formation” blares through the speakers.

These colorful touches form celebratory parentheses around the show’s societal observations. While the performers provide an embarrassment of comic riches, it’s the underlying pathos that lifts those jokes so high. For every outrageous bit that sends ripples of laughter throughout the stands, there’s a bittersweet chill that makes you ponder the status quo for anyone rocking brown skin in 2016.

For black theatergoers in attendance, its akin to spending an afternoon at a family cookout, seamlessly alternating insular humor and wistful realizations. For the many white folks in the crowd, a fair number of the punchlines must lob directly over their heads, but the show isn’t against a little self-aware hand holding. In an early sketch, a horror movie slasher killer offers the performers a chance to survive, as he’ll only kill the blackest one. The ensemble squabble over who is the most black, with Torian Miller exclaiming that he preferred the light-skinned Aunt Vivian. As half the audience laughed, the sketch freeze frames, and Munk pops out of a window to explain the Fresh Prince casting reference with visual aids.

It’s a clever reminder of the disparity in black pop cultural consumption. Outsiders always capture the surface stuff, but within the community, deeper details resonate. In a similar vein, Dave Helem performs a stand-up bit about smoking weed while watching the movie Precious. As he begins to explain the film’s plot, it becomes increasingly apparent to a certain sect of spectators that he’s actually talking about the Biggie biopic Notorious. The rolling laughter as the realization slowly moves around the auditorium is an incredible testament to shared cultural experience.

Every performer brings something special to the table, but Dewayne Perkins and Sonia Denis are real standouts. In a sketch about gentrification, the two shine as dueling neighbors. For the show’s finale, Munk revisits the monolith line as each cast member repeats the phrase “I’m black as fuck” with custom declarations that highlight the individualism of the black experience. Denis seems to be the most distinct, exclaiming that she’s seen Amelie eight times—until Perkins admits that he once sucked a dick while watching Roots.

But the emotional ending of the show comes a little earlier, with a song called “We’re Gonna Miss You, Barack.” The bittersweet send-off to our 44th president is made all the more rueful given the results of the election. It’s littered with jokes to numb through the pain and really that use of humor cuts to the heart of the black experience, turning lemons into lemonade and and finding ways to smile no matter the circumstance.

Black Side of the Moon runs at Woolly Mammoth, 641 D St. NW, through January 1st. Buy tickets here.