Now I look back on a lot of my early writing and I feel that I was subconsciously talking to my mother. I was carrying her and those beautiful, powerful, strong black women in my spirit. And much to the dismay of my critics, I’m pretty sure that this is how and why I started putting very serious subject matter right alongside humor in my work. I knew that my audience was full of women like the ones that I loved so much growing up.

To that end, when I first did the tough-talking, truth-telling Madea at the Regal Theater in Chicago almost 20 years ago, I had no idea that imitating my mother would end up bringing joy to millions of people around the world. I thought I was just an actor donning a costume to entertain in a live comedic play. Most of the show was full of over-the-top jokes that brought lots of laughter, but around the last 30 minutes something happened. Madea got the opportunity to riff about pain and heartache, forgiveness, and God and faith. When I got to those life lessons, something happened. There was utter silence in the theaters, and it became so clear to me that the audience was hanging on her every word.

I understood very early on that this mostly blue-collar African-American audience was feeling inspired. They were getting answers to a lot of what was going on in our community that no one was talking about. I was blown away that somehow this ridiculous-looking 6-foot-6 guy in a dress had found a way to do for this audience the same thing that I had done for my mother. I could lift them with humor and use that laughter as an anesthetic and talk about really deep, sensitive issues that were destroying so many of us — things like rape and molestation and the inability to forgive.

This was further confirmed when I started receiving messages like “Madea did in two hours what my family hasn’t been able to do in 12 years — convince my sister to finally leave an abusive relationship.” I understood then how important it was to continue in the rawness of what I had created. To continue speaking a language that was a shorthand my audience and I understood. To continue to break all the traditional rules of storytelling.