Big Mouth’s Brandon Kyle Goodman: ‘Black queerness rules the zeitgeist – yet our stories never get to be centre stage’

Words: Lee Dalloway; Photography: Sela Shiloni

This article appears in Attitude issue 345, March/April 2022.

Passionate about mental health, plus Black and queer representation; smart, talented and funny. The list of compliments for writer and performer Brandon Kyle Goodman would be the length of an entire article.

After their big break in Netflix coming-of age cartoon Big Mouth, they have already been chosen to star and co-write its much-hyped upcoming spin-off Human Resources. Not to mention Brandon’s podcasts, online and social media activism, mentorship and forthcoming book. Where do they find the time?

It was just three years ago that Goodman found themselves somewhat starstruck at the thought of starring alongside Fleabag’s Andrew Scott in Amazon Prime’s anthology series, Modern Love. The following year, they were appearing opposite comedy legend Larry David in Curb Your Enthusiasm. Two months later, they had secured a role on the writing team for Big Mouth, graduating from staff writer to recurring character, and now they’ll work on Human Resources. They’ve had a good couple of years, it’s fair to say.

For those who haven’t had the pleasure, Big Mouth is a darkly funny, off-the-wall tale of teenage angst, with Goodman voicing sweetnatured, queer lovebug, Walter. The animated show follows a group of friends struggling with hot topics such as pubic hair and sexual arousal, receiving terrible advice from oversexualised shoulder angels and hormone monsters. Funny folks John Mulaney and Maya Rudolph are among the stars who provide the voices. It’s sharply written, dark comedy better suited to adults, with LGBTQ+ undercurrents running throughout.

Although Goodman, who identifies as nonbinary and uses he/they pronouns, certainly brings the funny since joining during its fourth season, they also connect with the responsibility of highlighting one of life’s most difficult times. “When you’re 13, you’re trying to figure out who you are,” they say. “I definitely feel our show reckons so much with identity, whilst also not trying to make identity trauma as part of our storyline.”

Goodman had barely got started on their day job as show scribe before Walter’s character was being floated around the writers’ room, and Brandon knew they had to play him. “Whenever a character shows up, we discuss who’s the actor who could really voice this. There were some incredible names they were throwing around for Walter, some real heavy hitters. I think, from what I read, he was a Black, queer voice. I wanted to be considered for Walter, and a couple of months into the season, I got the call.”

Of course, when you have a smash-hit show, the natural inclination can be to capitalise with a spin-off. It seems Walter, and Brandon, struck a chord and by season five, they were
both heading off to the new, more adult-themed Human Resources, a workplace comedy centred around Big Mouth’s now iconic Hormone Monsters, where Brandon will also share cowriting duties.

It’s an astonishing achievement to springboard from your first TV staff writer role to featured star within a season, but it’s hardly been an overnight success for Brandon, having put in years of hard work. From an early age, Brandon knew they wanted to perform — clearly inspired by their mother, Hazelle Goodman, also a performer, and the first Black woman to have a prominent role in a Woody Allen film, no less.

“[Performing] was her world,” they say. “She had a HBO special. But she was a dark-skin, Trinidadian woman with locks; they weren’t casting her the way she should have been cast. She was all about writing her parts, casting herself and passing that on to me.”

After studying drama at New York University, Goodman initially jobbed around for theatre gigs off-Broadway, but soon became somewhat disenchanted with acting, realising comedy was their passion. “The reality is, if you’re a Black actor on Broadway you’re probably in a musical. There’s not enough roles for Black actors out there. We’re all clamouring for the same five parts. At the time I found myself in comedy because it seems to not care about your race, sexuality as much. Just, are you funny? I appreciate that about the sketch and
improv world so much more. Yes, it’s still very white, but there seems to be a space for someone like me.”

There may have been more opportunities, but there were still barriers as Goodman was finding their groove. “It was, like, ‘You’re funny but we don’t know what to do with you,’ so I just started writing my own show,” they say, adding that they tried stand-up but it wasn’t for them. “I have such respect for them, [but] it’s not my world. You got to eat, breathe and sleep it. You got to be willing to bomb. I’m too much of a perfectionist to put myself out there that vulnerable.”

Although traditional stand-up may have been off the table for Brandon, they eventually found their voice with their character, talk-show host Latrell Jackson — a larger-than-life creation complete with leopard-print leggings, lashings of body glitter and social satire. “Basically, like if Wendy Williams and Oprah had a baby and did a chaotic daytime show.” Alongside some other characters in one-man shows, they were soon gaining attention.

Today, Goodman exudes a calm confidence in their work, but it wasn’t always the case, particularly when making the leap from leopard print to lovebug. “I got thrown into this show, one of the most popular shows on Netflix, it’s intimidating as fuck for my first job. I went in and I was drowning; somewhere along the way figuring out how to swim,” they recall of their first days on the programme. “That came from me knowing how to ask for help and who were my allies in the room. There were certain people I took aside, and said ‘Hey, what am I doing?’”

It was this fish-out-of-water feeling that inspired Brandon to set up one of their big passion projects, Brutus Pink x the Black Folx Initiative, a mentorship programme for aspiring writers of colour.

“I think what Big Mouth knows how to do is identify raw talent,” they remark. “I was raw talent and they identified that, but they needed to create a system that would shepherd me along the way. And we could expose aspiring writers to an actual writers’ room so as they know how things work. So, as it’s not a secret. I thought it would be amazing if you could bring that into the system of the show, you can hold their hands. And there’s no weakness. Sometimes, it’s seen as a weakness to ask for help, but it isn’t. There’s strength in it.

“There are not many of us in the industry — Black, queer people — and I think we can do two things. Some people want to be the only one: ‘I’m going to get in and shut the door behind me.’ Or you can see the value of creating space.”

A large part of their empathy for others could be attributed to the fact they’ve found peace in themselves as a non-binary, queer person of colour. It’s a combination that potentially allows connection to a large swathe of individuals who may be struggling with the issues that can surround those groups. For Goodman, a part of helping others is not shying away from sharing their own personal struggles via social media.

“What I’ve learned is talking, speaking about and sharing what I have been through is always the most impactful. Whenever I’ve made sense of something I’ve been through, I like to share it, because I can back it up,” they say. “I think that’s what we’re all searching for in the age of social media and all these apps, we’re so separated.”

Not content with already being the busiest person on the planet, they have a book, titled You Gotta Be You, due out later this year, and are developing a show with a huge mental health component. “I’ve been having a conversation about resilience. I’m not a fan of resilience. I think it’s kind of a band aid,” says Goodman. “It kind of gets us to the next step. But if you don’t do the healing part, that resilience will bleed on you and then you’ll cover it more with more trauma, more whatever. Resilience is fine to get you back up, but how do we devote ourselves to healing? And that’s [through] investing in your mental health, advocating for your boundaries, unpacking the trauma safely.”

Although they are a master of social progress projects, they also have some lighter-hearted queer topics they’re keen to discuss. Their sex-positive Instagram comedy series Messy Mondays is being developed as a game show by Netflix.

“People submit the messiest, ‘hoeist’ shit they’ve done. I can see who sends what but it’s always anonymous; I never reveal. It’s a safe space but to talk about how to give a better blow job, how do I douche, or eat pussy. When we learned about sex it was always heterosexual and it was never about pleasure.

“So many of us aren’t having great sex. We should be having mind-blowing sex, but we haven’t been taught how. I’m hoping the game show will allow us to do a little bit more around that.”

Finally, Goodman also has a semiautobiographical scripted series in the planning stages. “I think it’s long overdue that we tell stories where a Black queer person is not in trauma. I’ve played every gay best friend there is. You come in and say some quippy ‘Oh, gurl, this dress is fabulous’ and then you go away. What happens if the camera stays on that character?” they muse.

Brandon’s clearly keen to bring their queerness, Blackness and full intersectional realness to the forefront of all their work in as honest and frank a way as possible. “Black queerness rules the zeitgeist. It’s in every gif that you send, it’s all over the red carpet, we’re the trendsetters and yet our stories and who we are never gets to be centre stage. Our lives, our journeys, our adventures, the fun, fabulous, dick-sucking style part of it, the hard stuff, the reckoning, the navigating of it all.

“I want us to be able to play with all the colours of the crayon box of humanity. I don’t want to play with one fucking thing. I’m a full person who has plants and watches Housewives, I have layers, gurl.”

The Attitude March/April issue is out now.