Skip to main content
When Mx. Dahlia Belle steps into the spotlight, she carries a rhinestone-covered microphone with a chrome head, a holdover from the deep-pandemic days of comics bringing their own mics to shows.
“I decided to keep it to my brand and make it sparkly,” Belle says. “There’s a whole industry of tacky bitches. You can buy microphone sleeves for karaoke, so I found a rhinestone sleeve. It just keeps getting shinier.”
So does Belle, whose fame extends far beyond Portland, in part because of her open letter to Dave Chappelle published in The Guardian in October 2021. Written in the wake of Chappelle’s anti-trans tirade in a Netflix special, the piece bore a deliciously damning headline: “Dear Dave Chappelle, transgender comedians can take a joke, but why are yours so unfunny?”
Belle can take a joke—and tell one. A comedian who combines poignant truths with wild absurdities, she characterizes herself as “a silly little nymph that everyone loves whether they want to or not” and a lover of “wrong answers.”
“I suggested that polar bears were racist, and therefore it didn’t matter if the ice caps melted,” she says, recalling a particularly memorable set. “That was a moment of ignorant genius.”
Belle’s comedic genius is rooted in a childhood fascination with comics like Margaret Cho, Janeane Garofalo, Richard Pryor and, yes, Chappelle (“We all have our flaws and faults and blind spots,” Belle says magnanimously).
Evolving from a consumer of comedy to a practitioner is always precarious. Yet Belle—who was born in Orlando, Fla., and moved to Portland in 2003—says her early material was particularly problematic because she had yet to come out as trans (she describes herself as “fairly closeted” at the time).
“Comics are good judges of character,” Belle says. “We spend a lot of time reading people, trying to get into people’s heads during a one-sided conversation. People picked up on the fact that I was being fake, essentially.”
Of her first two years in standup, Belle notes: “It was the same material, but two genders ago. I wouldn’t recommend someone who presents as a man telling my jokes. I daresay I was always a good writer, but my writing was not honest. It still isn’t, but now it’s intentionally dishonest, which feels different somehow.”
During a January appearance at the Father’s Favorites Comedy Showcase, Belle pointedly waited until halfway through her set to mention that she’s trans (amid a clever bit about Portlanders being overly obsessed with demographics).
“I don’t like leading with it, and honestly, I would love to get to a place or a point where I don’t have to address it at all,” she says. “But in the meantime, I’ll make it as fun for me as I can.”
In addition to being a comedian, Belle is both a journalist (she wrote the 2022 Cosmopolitan article “Free Queer- and Trans-Affirming Ideas for Mainstream Porn. You’re Welcome.”) and an activist.
When Portland comics spoke out against Michael Rapaport’s appearance at Helium—after Rapaport, in a rant about the Israel-Hamas war, advocated strip-searching children—Belle was one of the protest’s most eloquent voices, sharing an Instagram video in which she called for a cease-fire.
While Belle refers to herself as an accidental activist, she approaches comedy with precision. She tests her material on social media—it’s a bad sign if a joke gets a “care” like, she says—and she was mentored by Tyrone Collins, aka the Real Hyjinx (who started a comedy showcase called Fuck Willamette Week, then went on to become a Funniest Five winner in 2021).
“One of the things he always says is ‘five or five thousand’ before every show,” Belle says. “I approach every show the same way, whether I’m performing in a sold-out theater in London or a random dive bar on Burnside. I’m there for the same reason.”
Which is? “To let people know they’re not alone in being human,” Belle says. “To be the mirror of everyone else’s insecurities and fears and worries—and love it and enjoy it and revel in it.”
Funniest thing She’s seen in Portland: “Portland’s Pride has become very family-friendly, and that’s adorable, but I grew up in the ‘90s. I’m used to twinks in jockstraps—you know, tradition. But now, seeing people fully dressed with bondage gear as an outer layer is hilarious to me.”