As R. Eric Thomas, a senior staff writer at Elle.com and author of the daily humor column, “Eric Reads the News,” breezes into the To Bean or Not to Bean coffee bar at Baltimore Center Stage, it feels like all pop culture and political gossip should grind to a halt, at least for the two hours he sits here. After all, if something schadenfreude-worthy happens and Thomas isn’t there to report it, did it really even occur? It’s safe to say that Thomas’ reputation—hilarious, quick-witted, dialed in—precedes him. In person, however, he’s chill, polite, and so unindulgent he takes his coffee black.

He apologizes for being a few minutes late, he was on deadline. But then again, he’s always on deadline. One day he’s waxing poetic about the hotness of Minneapolis mayor Jacob Frey, and another day it’s “George Kent’s Gigantic Impeachment Nalgene Has Me Quid Pro Quenched.” He’s weighed in on The Crown, White House holiday décor, and whether or not Maxine Waters is reclaiming her time. The universe seems to be handing him lots of material these days—and opportunities. His play for Single Carrot Theatre—Safe Space—is being staged at Clifton Mansion, and his book of essays, Here for It: Or, How to Save Your Soul in America, just hit bookstores.

Not bad for a kid from Baltimore who, after dropping out of college, bemoaned he’d never make it as a writer and thought opportunity existed only beyond Charm City.

Thomas grew up in Upton, in the western part of the city. If you’ve seen The Wire, you’ll recognize that they filmed Omar’s grandmother’s house right across the street from his childhood home. (That meant extras sitting on his stoop killing time and free bagels from craft services.) But that was just another part of his complicated identity: black, gay, and Christian. “I’ve thought about that a lot,” says Thomas, and it’s something he delves into in his book. Despite communal pressure, he’s always seen his identity more as an intersection than a collision. “People would say, ‘You have to choose,’” he says. But he never saw it that way: “I don’t feel internal conflicts between identities because I’ve never known what it was like not to be all these things.”

That included his school life. Every morning, Thomas would wake up in his blighted neighborhood but spend his days at Park School—a nine-mile jaunt, and a world away. The progressive day school sits on a 100-acre campus, and, as Eric and his mother made that drive from fourth grade until he graduated high school, the landscape would transform from abandoned houses and trash to fields, horses, streams, and woods. The backdrop wasn’t the only thing changing. With so many of his fellow students being Jewish, Thomas started spending weekends attending religious coming-of-age celebrations.

He told his parents, “I would like a Bar Mitzvah, please.” He had his party theme picked out (films) and even knew what the favors would say. (“I Had a Reel Good Time at Eric’s Bar Mitzvah.”) “That’s not a possibility for you,” his parents patiently told him. But all these experiences were shaping him. Thomas was always observing, storing, and note taking. “I don’t think I have the most advanced level of thinking about different societal issues,” he says modestly. “But I have read a lot of people who are very, very smart about those things. I have always believed through storytelling and through the way my parents raised me, you’re allowed to have a perspective, and you are allowed to have an opinion.”

And while that might seem like a direct path to exactly what he is now doing, it wasn’t. During one of Thomas’ darkest times he had dropped out of college, moved back home, and was waiting tables at The Hard Rock Café. He felt despondent.

“I absolutely thought nothing in my life was ever going to go well,” he admits. But even in that dark period, Thomas still noticed points of light: interactions with customers, the flair on his uniform, the walk to and from work. The Hippodrome Theatre had just been built, and there were high hopes of a bustling theater district that would follow. Thomas still views the city as one of unfulfilled promise. “This is a city full of bubbles. I don’t think the bubbles are necessarily a bad thing,” he says. “There is so much magic and activity right at the skin of the bubble where it meets another bubble.” The problem is that the friction between the tension and the magic never seems to create anything, he says. “There are huge separations.” He escaped to Philadelphia, promising himself he would never come back to Baltimore. “Not even to be buried,” he jokes.

“You’re allowed to have a perspective, and you’re allowed to have an opinion.”

It was there that he met his husband, David Johnston Norse, who had received a Master of Divinity from Princeton Theological Seminary and was working as a pastor at Broad Street Ministry through AmeriCorps. They met when Thomas was hosting The Moth, a live storytelling event. Norse thought Thomas was “too famous” for him, and what’s more, he was pretty sure that Thomas didn’t know “how to hit on a pastor,” he cracks. Finally, months later, they went on their first date—closing down a restaurant and then walking around Rittenhouse Square, where Norse mentioned several times what a great time he had and that they should “definitely do it again” just to get the point across that he wanted to see Thomas again.

The two married in October of 2016, and Norse began job hunting using what Thomas describes as a Tinder-esque website where pastors and churches are matched. “He was coming up with matches from Ohio and a Dakota,” says Thomas. “I’m all about an adventure but had never thought about what I looked like in another space. I didn’t want to be a unicorn. I didn’t want to be the only gay people on our block. I didn’t want to be the only interracial couple we knew.”

Then Norse matched with the Maryland Presbyterian Church in Towson. And Thomas was going home. He was skeptical, but he also knew they had to do it. Even he had to admit the timing was uncanny. His part-time writing gig for Elle.com—born out of a Facebook post during the 2016 Democratic National Convention in Philadelphia that went viral—was becoming more frequent. They wanted him on staff full-time—so he wouldn’t have to look for a new job. He could write from anywhere, and New York was still a quick train ride away.

Thomas and Norse moved back to Baltimore in September of 2018. By November, Thomas had landed his book deal. He still can’t believe where life has taken him. “The column was this beautiful, happy surprise for me—because, all of a sudden, people were not only saying, ‘I can see you and I can hear you,’” says Thomas. “But they were saying, ‘The things that you think, I also think.’” It was a level of acceptance that had been missing from his existence.

And even though he sees the voice of his writing as a heightened version of himself (he compares it to a late-night television monologue), “I see the column as a step toward authentic relationships with strangers who don’t want to feel alone.”

And while self-worth certainly shouldn’t be weighed in “likes” and shares, his words and style caught on. Strangers would approach him on the Amtrak train as he made his way to New York to check in with his editor. “We have a group chat where we talk about your columns,” someone gushed once, pulling out his phone to show him (and, of course, ask for a selfie). At opening night of Center Stage’s Miss You Like Hell, a fellow theatergoer approached him, “You’re Eric from the internet, right?” It’s remarkable to Thomas. “I sit in our house”—they now live in Remington—“alone most of the time, so my lived experience is sort of isolated.”

To go places and have people know you is a “strange experience,” he admits. It’s one he loves but has grappled with. “Particularly after the election, I had a dim view of people who tried to capitalize on ‘resistance culture.’ I don’t ever want to be somebody who is profiting off this idea that we have to participate civically,” he bemoans. “But I do think there is a space for writing humor in this time. There’s always been a space for writing humor about the news even in the worst times.” The difference now, he says, is that “there’s also a space for making a community.”

That’s also the idea behind his book: relatable, honest, funny essays with a tinge of sadness (he speaks honestly about having had suicidal thoughts in a chapter that also touches on Kanye West and a car barreling through his parents’ house like the Kool-Aid man) but with a happy ending because that is Thomas’ life right now. The teen who swore he’d never return to Baltimore is now living his best life here: married and working as a full-time writer.

“What’s so beautiful about this book is a reclamation of what it means to be ‘other.’”

While his family—parents, siblings—read advance manuscripts of Here for It, Norse waited until the galley was out, until it felt like a real book. “He just kept laughing,” says Thomas, who had to force himself to stop asking, “What part are you on?” over and over again. Says Norse, “I know he’s hilarious and I know his depth, and in his column there are so many references to literature and pop culture and music and theater and television—but there’s also these other depths of a more serious or more intellectual Eric that folks are going to experience through the book.” His book editor, Sara Weiss, agrees, anointing him “David Sedaris-esque.”

This book, says Weiss, is a new side of him. “He’s just as funny and just as joyful, but he’s showing himself off in a vulnerable and richer way than what his Elle columns allowed,” she says. Thomas dives deep into “otherness and redefining what otherness is,” says Weiss. “Eric has always been in a space where he has felt ‘other.’” But he always makes a choice to choose hope and find joy. “What’s so beautiful about this book,” says Weiss, “is a reclamation of what it means to be ‘other.’”

And while there is no crystal ball for what the future holds for politics and all the voices that have benefited—Randy Rainbow, Andy Borowitz, and, yes, Thomas—it seems that his influence has longevity. (From Project Runway recaps to Peloton ad shaming to the Kardashians, whatever you’re hearing about, Thomas has already dissected with expert precision and the perfect meme to have you cackling in your office.)

And that staying power will continue as long as he continues to keep it real. After he turned in an early draft of his book, Weiss returned it with a simple note: “You are writing toward a specific reader who doesn’t understand you. You don’t have to do that.” Says Thomas, “That was stunning to me.” There were places where he was holding back or overexplaining himself. With that burden gone, he was able to just be himself. “I am really glad to not have to explain myself anymore,” he says, “I spent a lot of life explaining myself. Why I was real. Why I exist.” He’s over that. Now he’s able to take all those tidbits—big and little—from 37 years of being an observer and use them for good.

All of those lifelong intersections mean he’s relatable to a wide swath of humans. But his face is gentle, and his hands are steady when he smiles and says, “I don’t have to represent everything. I just have to represent myself.”

Visual Art

Amalie R. Rothschild Rock Icons & Images

Don’t miss your opportunity to catch the work of Amalie R. Rothschild, the “unofficial photographer of Woodstock,” at Goya Contemporary Gallery. The documentary-style work captures some of rock’s greatest personalities during the turbulent late ‘60s and early ‘70s, chronicling one of the most iconic periods of American music and history. Through March 2. Goya Contemporary Gallery, 3000 Chestnut Ave.

Literature

Writers LIVE! R. Eric Thomas, Here For It

Park School alum R. Eric Thomas offers the internet his best jokes and hottest takes in his daily humor column, “Eric Reads the News.” Now get a more personal set of tales with his new book of essays, Here for It. The man himself will make a stop at Central Library’s Wheeler Auditorium this month to discuss his childhood between two vastly different neighborhoods, finding love, and the wild world of internet fame. Feb. 20. Enoch Pratt Free Library, 400 Cathedral St.

Bruce Goldfarb’s 18 Tiny Deaths

Hear the story of one of Baltimore’s most impactful quirks as Bruce Goldfarb presents his 18 Tiny Deaths, The Untold Story of Frances Glessner Lee and the Invention of Modern Forensics. The 18 tiny deaths refer to the Nutshell Studies of Unexplained Death, a series of painstakingly recreated crime scenes that, at first a hobby for Lee, turned into a teaching tool for generations of criminal investigators. The scenes, now housed Maryland Medical Examiner’s Office, are still used for forensic seminars today. 7-9 p.m. Feb. 15. Atomic Books, 3620 Falls Rd.

Music

Psycho Killers at Union Craft Brewing

Before David Byrne takes the SNL stage this month, get your fix with this tribute to the New Wave icon’s first project: The Talking Heads. The boys of Psycho Killers will be on hand at Union on Valentine’s Day to play hits like “This Must Be The Place” and “Once in a Lifetime,” as well as love songs from other bands’ discographies, throughout the evening. 7 p.m. to 12 a.m. Feb. 14. UNION Craft Brewing, 1700 W. 41st St.

Pleasure For Your Palette: A Colorful Night With Emerging Opera Stars

February is the month for opera, with multiple opportunities from the likes of The Acme Corporation and Opera Alchemy around the city. But for those looking for a survey of the operatic talent Baltimore has to offer, Creative Alliance has gathered a crew of rising stars. In this intimate performance, soprano Victoria Zelefsky, mezzo Taylor Hillary Boykins, tenor Henry William Hubbard, bass Aaron Thacker, and pianist Maria Adele Scott will join together for a night of solo and ensemble work and discussion. 8 p.m. Feb. 28. Creative Alliance, 3134 Eastern Ave.

Theatre

MICA Fifth Annual Benefit Drag Show

Great music, creative costumes, lots of glitter, and the chance to support MICA’s LGBTQ scholarships—this drag show truly has it all. Members of the art school’s Faculty and Staff Queer Alliance will join pro kings and queens Miss Sue Nami, Dee Dee Dereon, Venus Festrada, Gadfrie Arbulu, and Chris Jay for this night of fun that helps fund the FASQA Awards, given each year to a a student in the community who demonstrated financial need and another to a student who has shown involvement in and commitment to LGBTQ+ issues. 8-10 p.m. Feb. 28. The Gateway BBOX Theater, 1601 W. Mount Royal Ave.

Film

Open House: True Laurels—A Gallop Through Time

Though they’re not as prevalent as they once were, Baltimore’s arabbers remain an essential part of the city’s cultural identity. On Feb. 22, join True Laurels founder Lawrence Burney for a screening of the documentary We Are Arabbers and a discussion with former members of the trade to discuss the occupation’s past and what can be done to preserve it for the future. 2-4 p.m. Feb. 22. The Baltimore Museum Art, 10 Art Museum Dr.

News

Black Arts District Launches its New Brand

The new Pennsylvania Avenue Black Arts and Entertainment District plans to launch its first branding initiative in style with a party at Shake & Bake Family Fun Center on Feb. 16. Creative Director Tia Newton and her team will be on hand to talk about what’s coming up for the newly minted arts district in addition to plenty of fun events such as dancing, $1 skating and bowling, and themed giveaways.

The Walters Receives $500,000 Endowment from Boshell

The Boshell Foundation, the group responsible for The Walters’ long-running ancient art and architecture lectures, recently announced a $500,000 endowment for the museum to go toward the continuation of the popular series. “We are deeply thankful for their generous endowment gift and look forward to the lectures it will provide in years to come,” Walters Director Julia Marciari-Alexander said in a statement released by the museum. The Boshell Lecture Series was originally launched in 2017, and the newest installment, “How Many Noses Can One Face Have?,” about the evolution of taste when it comes to restoration and repair work, will take place Sunday, April 19.

Here for It: Or, How to Save Your Soul in America

R. Eric Thomas (Ballantine Books)

You may know R. Eric Thomas from his laugh-out-loud “Eric Reads the News” column in Elle.com. In his debut book, his signature wit and references to all things pop culture shine through, but in this new format, he delves deeper into the man behind the columnist. His collection of essays acts as a memoir, with seemingly every vulnerable and awkward moment included. Reading it feels like listening to your new best friend rant and rave in your living room, partly because Thomas continually addresses you—yes, you, honey!—as if you’re having a tête-à-tête. He recounts his struggle with identity growing up black and gay on a street lined with dilapidated Baltimore rowhouses while attending Park School with predominately white, Jewish children—one of many times he’s felt like an outsider looking in. He is at once hilarious and dead serious, self-deprecating and self-realizing, poignant and tongue-in-cheek. And just how do you save your soul in America? You’ll have to read to find out whether that was a joke, too, or dead serious—or both.

Flowers in the Gutter: The True Story of the Edelweiss Pirates, Teenagers Who Resisted the Nazis

K.R. Gaddy (Dutton Books for Young Readers)

Holocaust literature has a particular sense of urgency lately, perhaps because living Holocaust survivors are getting fewer in number with each passing year and artists are creating works to educate younger generations. Baltimore writer K.R. Gaddy’s latest book is another account of the tragedy but seen through the eyes of teenagers and written for a young adult audience. Gaddy’s information-packed, historically accurate book tells the story of the Edelweiss Pirates, the name given to the thousands of teenagers who resisted joining the Third Reich and fought against the Nazis. After witnessing the Gestapo storm into houses, destroy property, and arrest family and friends, they rebel in creative ways, including distributing literature and painting anti-Nazi graffiti. The occasional typewritten page and old photographs showing the book’s protagonists, Fritz, Gertrud, and Jean, and other Pirates and street scenes, make their story that much more intriguing—and that much more real.

Have you ever wondered about the strategy behind Beyonce’s pregnancy photoshoot or
why you really shouldn’t mess with journalist April Ryan? R. Eric Thomas is here to help. His humor column at Elle.com, and contributions to sites like Man Repeller and StyleCaster, have been going viral and lightening up your Facebook feed since last July. We talked to Eric about growing up in Baltimore and how he got internet famous.

What was growing up in Baltimore like for you?
I grew up in the Upton area of downtown Baltimore. My father is the executive director of the Baltimore Public Market Corporation and before that he was the assistant general manager of Lexington Market. What I love about Baltimore is how each neighborhood is like a different cultural experience.

How was your experience at The Park School?
I loved that I got to experience a completely different world. I grew up downtown in the city and went to church at Pimlico, but then when I went to school I was out in 90 acres of woods and we got to ride horses and walk along streams and it was an extraordinary educational experience for me as well as an extraordinary cultural experience. It really made me who I am. After Park, I went to Columbia in New York and then transferred to UMBC to study playwriting.

How did you get involved with Elle.com?
Last June, I posted a picture of Barack Obama and Justin Trudeau and the president of Mexico on Facebook and wrote a little riff about it because it looked like a movie poster. They looked like the all male cast of Sex In The City. It got shared about 70,000 times on Facebook and it happened to come across my editor’s desk and she asked me if I would want to do this every day and I said yes. My editor at Elle.com, Leah Chernikoff, says that she wants the site to be like the best brunch conversations—politics and fashion and pop culture and more all rolled into one. I think that my voice is able to add a little intersectional comedy to the conversation.

 Did you always think you would be writing a humor column?
I went to college thinking I was going to be the next Toni Morrison. I just wanted to rewrite Beloved for the rest of my life, but apparently that position has been filled. Playwriting is my first love. My first play was produced in Baltimore. And then, when I moved to Philadelphia, I got into storytelling and got involved with an organization very similar to Stoop Storytelling, which you have in Baltimore. That is really where I developed a stronger comedic voice, which led to posting weird things on the internet, which led to writing funny things about the news every day.

How have you cultivated your sense of humor?
I’m the least funny member of my family so, of course, I am the one who gets paid to make jokes. I come from a line of super intelligent, very witty people and I learned how to be funny by sitting around our dinner table. It was competitive in that way that dressing rooms at comedy clubs are competitive—there’s no punishment or mockery for not being funny, but it’s so rewarding to make other funny people laugh. At my wedding, my brothers and parents gave the most hilarious, heartwarming speeches and now everyone is obsessed with them. All my producer friends are trying to book my family for shows. This is terrible.

What do you believe your column’s purpose is?
I think it provides a respite for people who are exhausted by the news, but still want to remain aware. My column doesn’t ignore the world that we live in but does provide the opportunity to laugh. I think that’s important. I know I’m not curing cancer, but I know firsthand how draining it can be to constantly be pushing back against oppression or injustice. I see the column as sort of like the meal you go to after the march, that space where you can relax for a minute with people who also want to see a better world, and tell stories and jokes—sometimes. Sometimes the column is just me finding reasons to post videos of Idris Elba working out. That’s important, too. 

How do you think celebrity has changed in recent years?
As with the news cycle, many aspects of celebrity have become 24-hour affairs. It’s possible to never be off as a celebrity. And there’s a deeper expectation of access. Celebs are supposed to Snap and Insta and Tweet and also put out new work and show up to talk shows. It’s a lot. I mean, they get paid a lot so I’m not super sad about it, but it’s also just so much. Sometimes you want to take a week where everyone gets a vacation from being in the present. We can all sit on the beach and read a book and not worry about what our favorite stars are doing and, in return, they can sit around and be boring and maybe not post a Snapchat about their breakfast. That’s my dream: to not know what celebrities are eating for breakfast.

Why does popular culture resonate with people so much right now?
I think pop culture has always been aspirational and there are so many barriers being set up in our culture right now that, for a lot of people, aspiration is all they have. I don’t know if we should be seeing pop culture as a model for living, but it is something that reaches across divisions and connects us. That’s significant. I think pop culture helps us to know that we’re not alone in the way we feel, the things we think, what we want, and what makes us laugh.