I Took That Spark And Ran - Flobo Boyce

In this episode of Everything's Not Black & White, Lachandra and Brian travel deep into the gray area with multi-hyphenate entertainer, host, and comedian Flobo Boyce. Growing up in a West Indian household in Brooklyn, Flobo was raised with strict expectations around stability, yet his path took him from stand-up comedy stages and pro-wrestling rings to e-sports commentary and digital media entrepreneurship. Flobo opens up about the near-fatal medical emergency that transformed his perspective on risk overnight, how he reframed his biggest business failure into the foundation of his brand, and why embracing the "messy middle" is essential for long-term career resilience. 

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Flobo's Website

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Knew Amsterdam Radio 

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Transcript

Everything's Not Black & White
I Took That Spark And Ran - Flobo Boyce
Episode Transcript
Intro Announcement:
Welcome to Everything's Not Black and White with your hosts, Lala and Brian. We're stepping into the gray area to uncover the unexpected perspectives and lived experiences you didn't know you were curious about.

Lala:
Hey everybody, and welcome to today's podcast. We are definitely traveling in the gray area today. We're expanding our lens because one story can look totally different depending on where you're standing. So, our guest today has stood on a comedy stage, in a wrestling ring, and behind an esports mic, and pivoted his whole life along the way. Please welcome the master of the microphone himself, Flobo Boyce! Hey, Flobo.

Brian:
Hey, welcome Flobo.

Flobo:
That's hands down the best intro I've ever gotten for a podcast. Thank you so much for inviting me to the program, I appreciate it.

Lala:
You're so welcome, we're so excited to have you! We talk a lot about perspectives and really bringing people from different walks of life and backgrounds here so people can get an expanded experience learning about other cultures.

So, you grew up in a West Indian household in Brooklyn, New York—a house where you said stability and a clear career ladder were the expected lens for success. Tell us a little bit about that world. What country is your heritage from, and how did that define you, both through your eyes and your family's eyes?

Flobo:
Yeah, that's a very loaded question, but I love loaded questions! If you've ever seen the show Everybody Hates Chris, that was basically my life growing up. My parents came from Barbados in the '70s—these were the years before Rihanna, so people didn't really know where it was until very recently.

It's always a fun time because you're in this melting pot. But personal space... you appreciate each other, but you go on a subway and personal space is gone. Different things are happening all at once, so growing up, you got a taste of the world. You're in the same classes with the same people, the same restaurants, learning swear words in a dozen languages. That's just kind of the vibe being from Brooklyn.

For the West Indian side, I know some people reject that term because they say it's geographically inaccurate, but there's a cultural, ethnic element to it. Growing up, the foods, the way of looking at life, the stereotype of having four or five jobs is true—my mom had four, my dad had three, and I have six or seven now! Just making sure your drapes are clean before you invite people over, saying good night when you enter a room... those are things I use to this day. It's funny being dropped into this giant patchwork that's America and Brooklyn, but having those sensibilities from the West Indian side is something I've lived with my entire life.

Lala:
Yeah, I love that because I actually grew up in Georgia, so I'm a Southerner. But it sounds very similar to me because of everything my grandma had. She worked so hard to get what we had, so we sat on plastic covers on the sofas. I never sat on my grandma's sofa with my bare behind—it was always a sheet cover over a plastic cover. You couldn't sit on it directly because it was the "good furniture," the one you take care of. We cleaned all the time, and my grandma had a garden in her backyard, so we were always sewing, reaping, and harvesting.

Flobo:
Quick to say, the kinship is actually there. My grandfather chopped sugar cane and worked in the South for extra money. There is a small community of Barbadian immigrants that were brought to North Carolina to work the land, so there is a similar connection between the American South and the West Indies.

Lala:
Yeah. Well, I think it probably stems from both of us experiencing the transatlantic slave trade through the Middle Passage. Some went to the Caribbean, some came to the South. So much of our cultural heritage was brought over, cultivated over time, and allowed us to continue to grow into America with our own culture—which is a very interesting place right now, right?

So, tell me about success. In our intro, we mentioned you've been on a comedy stage, in a wrestling ring, and behind an esports mic. As a kid, what were some of the things you actually wanted to do—or at least what your parents and family wanted you to do? And how did it turn out that you ended up doing these creative, cool things?

Flobo:
Well, you're gonna kick me off the show, because when I was a kid, I wanted to be a Power Ranger! I was gonna save Angel Grove, that was it! I took karate classes to train to be a Power Ranger.

I came up in a family that was very practical and left-brained. My mom's a nurse, my dad's an electrical engineer, so you get pushed toward careers like that. I know doctor or lawyer is the stereotype, but my dad wanted me to be a civil engineer. My mom said, "I don't care what you do, but make sure you like it." She didn't want to be a nurse, but there weren't enough opportunities for women at the time that allowed her to leave—it was either teacher, banker, secretary, or nurse. So she picked nursing, went to Scotland (I have a whole Scottish part of my heritage as well), and told me to do something I love.

I took that spark and ran with it. In high school, I was in a finance program, but during a summer internship, they placed me in the media department of CitiGroup/CitiBank making internal videos for quarterly reports. I saw what media was. Before that, I thought about being in pictures, but seeing the business side through a bank's media department was eye-opening. They didn't even have to wear suits! I live in LA now where we wear whatever, but back then in NYC, it was like, "Wow, these are the cool guys."

I took that and ran with it. I went to undergrad to learn broadcast, and then grad school for film. When something gives you good energy—where you can go to bed exhausted but with a smile on your face—it usually seeks you out. Media and entertainment was that for me.

Lala:
Yeah, I love that! It's so funny because we have so much in common. I actually went to radio and television broadcast school in my late 20s and thought I was gonna be the number one radio personality in Atlanta, Georgia. That didn't exactly happen, but I loved every bit of it! It was so cool. Then I left Atlanta and moved to Columbus, Ohio... right before everything started blowing up in Atlanta with all the movies and TV shows being filmed there! I was like, "Why weren't y'all there when I was there? What's up with that?" I took it a little personally!

So, what prompted you to move from Brooklyn to LA? Let's ask that question first.

Flobo:
School. I went to undergrad at Flagler College in Florida to do broadcasting. Moving to the American South was a big leap because my parents wanted me to stay in New York for practical work. But Flagler was dirt cheap back then—$10,000 a year for private education—so I knew I couldn't say no, but I also knew I couldn't transfer or leave easily. It was a culture shock going from NYC to North Florida, which is very much like Southern Georgia.

Around 2007, near the end of undergrad, there were rumblings that the economy was taking a downturn. I applied to grad school for film at Chapman University in Orange County, California. Chapman was the only school that didn't ask for a portfolio upfront—they wanted a list of completed projects. I had three done and seven in progress, and the one project they asked to see was one I had already finished!

I went to LA understanding entertainment was like a factory town, but I went under the guise of education. I knew if I went out there without a net and fell on my face, coming back empty-handed would feel like being the prodigal son. So school was my vehicle to transition.

Lala:
I completely understand that. That was me after high school—I left Georgia and moved across the country to Washington State. I wanted to make my mark out there. After college, I ended up moving back to Georgia because I missed my family so much. I'm grateful I did because I had seven more years with my grandmother before she passed. But yeah, when you have grandiose ideas about your life and career, having to shift can throw you off your game for a bit.

Brian:
I'll just say I'm impressed with both of you because I went to college like five miles from where I grew up and where I currently live. The fact that y'all could adventure out so far and do your thing—hats off to y'all!

Flobo:
Thank you! The grass is greener, but you've probably paid off your loans, because I haven't!

Lala:
Exactly! The further you go, the more you pay, that's a fact. Out-of-state tuition is no joke!

So, I loved that you carried a "Make Your Hometown Proud" sign when you left Brooklyn for LA. How did that East Coast perspective shift or hold steady once you were seeing the industry through a West Coast lens?

Flobo:
It's interesting. The "Hometown Proud" concept actually came from my time in Florida. Coming from Brooklyn, it's a huge place, but to me, it's just home. In Florida, I met people who would say, "I'm from Gainesville," or "I'm from Alachua." I'd ask, "Where's that?" and get annoyed like, "Put your town on the map!" I felt jealous because my hometown had so many notable figures—Barbra Streisand, Jay-Z—and I wondered where I fit in.

Coming to LA, it was very important that I kept being as direct as I could. I've learned to be nicer and use tact, but if I'm not feeling a situation, I say it upfront. Every 18 months, I go back home to Brooklyn to recharge that muscle. In creative circles, everyone wants to be supportive—"Right on, brother!"—but going home gives me that roasting mentality to make sure I don't lose my edge and perspective.

Especially getting into comedy, you have to have a unique perspective. You can't just tell generic jokes anymore. The "knock-knock" or "take my wife, please" era is done. Audiences ask, "How does Flobo think about this?" That's why every comedy special is uncensored and raw—people buy into the perspective. Even though I've lived in LA for almost 20 years, I still consider myself a Brooklyn kid.

Lala:
That's really great. You're absolutely right. One of my favorite comedians right now is Josh Johnson. His mind is so sharp, and his show is different every time you see him. It's really about his perspective and how he observes the world, making connections between his life and reality.

Flobo:
He's so on point with current topics—it could happen yesterday and it's in his show the next day. It's wild, and honestly, it's scaring a lot of comics because it defies the traditional process of crafting a bit over years. But I'm a big fan.

Lala:
It really is! We started watching him on YouTube, then saw him in Dayton last year, and he's coming to Columbus next week, so we're going again! It's so engaging that you can watch him online and still want to see him live in person.

Flobo:
We need people who get audiences outside. That's the best thing.

Lala:
Shifting gears a bit to something a little more serious... You had a health scare that forced you to view risk completely differently overnight. Can you take us inside that shift? What did the "safe" corporate path look like before, and what did life look like immediately after?

Flobo:
Yeah, let's keep it serious—I almost died, y'all!

I used to be very, very heavy. I was a fat kid and a fat adult. I had dreams of hosting my own late-night variety show, and I knew I had to look a certain way for TV. So, I lost 150 pounds on the Subway sandwich diet! I lost the weight naturally, but I was left with severe loose skin. Medically speaking, my stomach had been stretched for 16 years, so there was no bounce-back. I had to get the skin surgically removed.

After the surgery, I had a major complication. Most people get standard stitches, but mine were glued together from the inside out. Three days post-op, my suture line ripped open—a four-inch long, two-inch wide gash on my right side. I was bleeding out on my couch while recovering. My mom, who was a retired nurse, came from New York to assist me.

Blood is warmer and stickier than you think—it was like a horror movie. My plastic surgeon told us over the phone, "I can't help you outside of a sterile environment, you need an emergency room." But my mom realized the opening was too wide to safely move me at that exact moment.

When you're around caretakers or medical professionals, there's a specific tone they use when things are critical. My mom said, "I think it opened up," and the way she said it made me realize, This is it. I'm going to die from an elective procedure.

I sat there with regrets. I wished I had kissed more girls, made more money... but my two biggest regrets were that I never rode a motorcycle, and I never gave stand-up comedy a real shot.

I couldn't lie on my back or stomach because of the surgeries, so I was propped up on one hip, engaging my core, terrified. I made a promise: If I survive tonight, I'm going to try comedy.

The next morning, the bleeding congealed. It took weeks to heal, but six months later, once recovered, I took my first comedy class.

Lala:
You don't know me well yet, but I have cancer and have been diagnosed four different times. Let me tell you, you are on the right track because recognizing what you might miss allows you to live a fuller, more fulfilled life. I'm so glad you took that opportunity to do comedy and ride your motorcycle. For myself, I might not have started a podcast or gone back to school if I didn't have those life scares motivating me to "get to living."

Flobo:
I'm proud of you too! Ian Fleming said, "A man only lives twice: once when he's born, and once when he looks death in the face." You really gain perspective.

Brian:
Yeah, our oldest child is 29, so hearing that timeline boggles my mind. I'm so glad you are doing well and much better now.

Lala:
I would love to know—a lot of comedians take dark experiences and turn them into material. When you finally hit the stage six months after healing, what were your early jokes about? Did you talk about that night, or how did you build your set?

Flobo:
It's funny—I actually didn't talk about that night in my stand-up until very late in my career! When I first started, I had plenty of stories about growing up heavy, but every other comic on stage was doing self-deprecating weight jokes. By the time the third guy went up saying, "So anyway, I'm fat," the audience was checked out.

So I tabled those jokes and focused on student loans instead! My very first bit was about how Sallie Mae was my pimp, calling me every month asking for her cut! That was real to my life at the time and didn't rely on physical appearance.

Lala:
100%! You didn't rely on a single crutch or become a one-trick pony—you brought relatable life experiences. And Sallie Mae definitely had us all out there!

When you did that first set, you were at the Comedy Store—a legendary venue where so many icons started. You ended up going on right after a comic who got booed off stage. How did that moment shape how fear looks from the stage versus the audience?

Flobo:
I went to the Comedy Store's Belly Room. I wasn't initially nervous, but I posted about it on Facebook and 18 of my friends unexpectedly showed up! Suddenly, the pressure was on.

The guy before me was in my class. He tried brand-new, untested material, got nervous, and the room turned on him. He got booed off. I was backstage in the green room thinking, How do you get booed at a class showcase?!

My nerves were shot, but my brain went to a scene from Man on Fire where Denzel Washington's character teaches a young girl not to fear the starter pistol when swimming. He tells her, "When that gun goes off, feel free."

Backstage, I heard the host say, "Please welcome..." and I blacked out! I ran out there, did my set, and barely remembered it, but the audience laughed. That's when I knew I was meant to perform.

Lala:
I'm a performer as well, and I know that exact feeling of blacking out on stage and snapping back once it's over!

Now, you've also written books, correct?

Flobo:
I've written several books, yes!

Lala:
I want to hear about your memoir, Graduation Day. What I understand is that your book puts failures right on the page in print—including a business that didn't work out. Why do you think people treat the "messy middle" as something to hide, rather than just another perspective on the journey?

Flobo:
Graduation Day came from reflecting on my college graduation. Most famous colleges get commencement speakers like Oprah, Conan O'Brien, or Barack Obama—we got a executive from Walmart!

During COVID, I realized that if I wrote a memoir, I wanted it to be a realistic field guide for my younger self. I had started a high-end stationery notebook brand called New Amsterdam for creatives. It ultimately failed for several reasons, and the investment fell through after I put $5,000 of my own money into it. For a long time, it was my biggest point of shame.

Eventually, I shifted my mindset. Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson named his company Seven Bucks Productions after the $7 he had in his pocket when he was cut from the CFL. I decided to turn my failure into my brand identity. Now, my media umbrella, podcast, and entertainment company are all named New Amsterdam. It represents my biggest swing, and I take pride in that failure because of what it taught me.

Lala:
I love that so much! In my corporate work, we often talk about embracing failure and highlighting what you learned to become stronger. Real growth and humility come from those moments.

One last quick question before we share how listeners can connect with you: I heard you're a diehard New York Nets and Mets fan! What has sports fandom taught you about patience and career comebacks?

Flobo:
Sports are tough because you can get off the bandwagon anytime, but when you truly align with a team through the ups and downs, the success feels so much sweeter. It teaches you about the long haul.

In creative fields, if an audition doesn't go your way or an event has low turnout, it's not the end of the world—there's always next season. You keep building.

Lala:
I love that balance of optimism and realism! Flobo, how can people connect with you or check out your work?

Flobo:
You can visit my main website at FloboBoyce.com. I also run a comedy and sports blog at JustTheSandwich.com, and write for the baseball space at BlackBaseballMixtape.substack.com.

Lala:
Wonderful! You have been an absolute delight. Thank you so much for being here, sharing your story, and inspiring our listeners.

Brian, can you tell everyone how they can stay in touch with our show?

Brian:
Yeah, you can follow us on Facebook and Instagram, or email us at embwpodcast@gmail.com.

Lala:
Excellent! Thank you all for joining us today on Everything's Not Black & White. We will see you next time!

Brian:
Bye, see ya!