MOMENTS OF

TRUTH

This project spotlights people in Texas who experienced turning points that reshaped the course of their lives.

ILLUSTRATION BY LAUREN IBAÑEZ

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by Priscilla Foreman | Next Generation Radio | The Texas Newsroom | August 2025

Click here for audio transcript

Tandiwe Kone:

I never had any job where I’d go home and cry or even cry in the bathroom. I mean, we’re talking, I’d leave work and then go home, and there’s still responsibility. I had two other little patients that I had to maintain. So at that point I said I needed something. It’s an exceptionally stressful, profession.

My name is Tandiwe Kone. I am a native Houstonian. I have two children. I am an improviser. I am a nurse by profession.

The medical industry is really big here. I was around quite a few nurses and saw what they did and saw that that was the kind of role where you could actually see the impact you made in a very short period of time that was attractive to me.

I had no idea when I signed up it all seemed neat and interesting and in a book there’s a lot of responsibility in nursing and you need some kind of way to just kind of get away from that.

Nursing was also, what I like to call my first stage being  a source of entertainment life or something in, my patients’ experience. I figured every time I opened the door I was stepping on a new stage. More than likely someone who may not be feeling well. And what can I do other than make things better? I had a patient, she’s like, “You’re funny. You ever think about doing comedy?” And we talked, she was a standup comedian, but she’d stopped some time ago. And I was like, oh, well, maybe I should investigate this.

I tried stand-up but the problem with stand-up when you’re new is that when you sign up for those open mics, i if the thing runs till two, you may go on 1:45. Everybody’s drunk, gone, whatever. And so, you know, I did that a couple of times, but coming in at that hour with a small child, I was like, how can I do this? Do something comedic and be home by like 10:30?

I found a New Movement and I’m like, oh, okay, well let me join up. I had some birthday money or Christmas money, I can’t remember what it was, but I was like, that’s what I’m spending it on. I’m going to sign up and take a class. Had never seen improv performed signed up for the class and then I watched, improv performed by some performers in The New Movement, and I at that moment, I’m like, this is the thing I’m gonna do. If these people can teach me how to do that, they’re about to get all my money. I’m gonna go through this whole thing. I’m not gonna stop.

[So, then, he picks me up by the scruff on my neck, right? He is like, what are you doing? What are you doing? Are you serious? Right? So I had to go. I had to go completely dog on him. I went, woof woof.]

[Audience laughter]

One of the great things about improv is even though it’s performance, we call it playing because as an adult you don’t get a chance to play. You know, it’s just, it’s a very serious, thing to be an adult. But in improv, we play, we make things up. So I would even venture to guess if you had something that you loved or something that you were interested in as a kid when you were playing. Find out if there’s a hobby that connects to that because it’s gonna bring you so much joy.

[Girls, you’ve been walking around with that box for two weeks now.]

[Crowd laughter]

Improv helped me discover that freedom to just be myself and know that I can trust my improv partner is going to support. That just opened up a lot of things for me. I learned that I can open up and I can let down the guard and be who I am.

[Crowd applause and cheers]

[Thank you so much]

 

How improv reignited this nurse’s passion

by | Aug 29, 2025

Born and raised in Houston, home to the largest medical complex in the world, Tandiwe “Tandi” Kone was always surrounded by nurses, which inspired her to pursue a career in healthcare. She felt called to make a lasting impact on patients’ lives and witness the difference her care as a nurse could make.

But she wasn’t expecting the emotional and mental baggage that she encountered every shift. In 2012, after a decade of seeing Houston from behind hospital curtains and carrying the emotions from all those she met, she realized she needed an outlet. One of her patients gave her an idea.

“You’re funny. You ever think about doing comedy?” asked the patient, who also happened to be a comedian.

An African American woman in black medical scrubs sits in a blue chair in front of an empty audience in a spotlight.

Tandiwe Kone sits on a chair on stage at Station Theater in Houston in August 2025. Her advice to almost anyone is to go take an improv class. “It’s cool to be awkward. That’s what improv allows you to recognize – that you don’t have to know it all. That awkwardness is a beautiful thing, that you can make up things that make people laugh.”

PRISCILLA FOREMAN / NEXTGENRADIO

Tandi’s experience with burnout as a nurse is not an outlier in the health care field, especially since the COVID-19 pandemic.

Acting on her patient’s suggestion, Tandi tried stand-up comedy. But her first show finished at two in the morning, and she quickly realized that such late nights were not going to work.

“The problem with stand-up when you’re new is that when you sign up for those open mics, you are the last one. You’re going on at 1:30 [a.m.],” Tandi said. “I did that a couple of times, but coming in at that hour with a small child, my spouse at the time was like, ‘Oh no, no, something else has gotta give.’”

A graphic illustrating burnout among registered nurses.

With some extra money, she signed up for an improv class at New Movement Theater, now named Station Theater. After that first class and seeing an improv show for the first time, she was hooked.

In her first show – responding to audience prompts, thinking on her feet, all in front of a live audience – wasn’t easy. 

“I just remember thinking, ‘I don’t even know what I’m doing here.’ I think I said one line in the whole show, and that was it.”

But with time and practice, Tandi began to gain confidence as she performed in more shows for new audiences.

“If these people can teach me how to do that, they’re about to get all my money,” she said. “I’m gonna go through this whole thing. I’m not gonna stop.”

Tandiwe Kone

Nurse & Comedian

An African American woman in black medical scrubs stands in front of a wood panel wall with a glowing purple neon sign reading “Station.” She is smiling with one hand holding the other in front of her.

Backstage at Station Theater, Tandiwe Kone participates in an improv exercise to warm up.

PRISCILLA FOREMAN / NEXTGENRADIO

Then in 2015, she co-founded a new all-Black improv troupe with three other Black improv students, who also had graduated from Station Theater. Their name: Can’t Tell Us Nothing (CTUN). CTUN stood in contrast to the mostly white and male-dominated comedy scene.

“Our desire was, ‘Oh, we’re all Black. Oh, we all graduated. Let’s see what it would be like to play together. And, you know, we got together, we practiced every week for months, and, finally, we got it together.”

Tandi discovered that CTUN was a safe space for her to not only grow her improv skills but also to feel supported. That’s when improv truly clicked for Tandi as her new hobby. The award-winning troupe recently celebrated its 10th anniversary and has performed at local high schools, nursing homes and other venues from Texas to California.

Three men and one woman in an improv-comedy group stand in front of a projection screen showing “Can’t Tell Us Nothing,” the group’s name.

Can’t Tell Us Nothing troupe members, from left to right: Antoine W.B., Amechi Ngewe, Jon Myles and Tandiwe Kone. The group recently celebrated its 10th anniversary in July 2025 and has received several awards, including the Contest4Improv4Human national contest and the Houston Improv Riot contest. They’ve performed in venues from local high schools to a Mennonite conference.

COURTESY OF TANDIWE KONE

A group of comedians performs on stage. One is seated in a chair while the rest are standing on stage, illuminated by a neon sign above the stage that reads “Station.”

Can’t Tell Us Nothing performs live at Station Theater, one of the many venues where they still perform.

COURTESY OF TANDIWE KONE

While improv started as a mental escape from work, Tandi said it has ended up making her a better nurse. “[Improv] made me recognize how important it is to listen and support others. Maybe I was doing it in life, I don’t know, but I became conscious of it in improv.”

Today, Tandiwe Kone is a nurse by day and an award-winning improv comedian by night. She has been a nurse for the past 20 years and has participated in improv since 2012.

What started as a journey to find relief from the fast-paced, emotionally heavy chaos of the hospital floor has turned into an outlet that has alleviated her stress, reignited her passion for taking care of people and made her a better nurse.

A white metal shed is backlit by sunlight and a blue sky, with a picnic table to the left of the building. A window above the door reads 2219 Crockett, and a door reads “Station” with a white arrow pointing to the entrance.

Station Theater’s current home is near Sawyer Yards, a creative community near Houston’s historic First Ward. The theater will soon relocate to a larger location in Houston’s Fifth Ward later this year.

PRISCILLA FOREMAN / NEXTGENRADIO

She now teaches improv to new learners at Station Theater and encourages almost anyone to find the childlike joy of play to combat the seriousness of adulthood.

“One of the great things about improv is even though it’s a performance, we play. We call it playing because as an adult, you don’t get a chance to play. Find out if there’s a hobby that connects to that [playing], because it’s gonna bring you so much joy.”

An African American woman in black medical scrubs smiles in front of a colorful mural featuring a cat in an astronaut suit.

Tandiwe Kone smiles in front of a mural at Station Theater, formerly known as New Movement Houston, in August 2025. It’s where she took her first improv class and has been performing for the past 13 years.

PRISCILLA FOREMAN / NEXTGENRADIO