Sharul Channa - Artists have always paid a price for honesty.

 

Sharul Channa is a Singaporean stand-up comedian, actress, and writer known for her bold, insightful, and often hilarious takes on social issues, gender norms, and cultural identity. As one of the pioneering female voices in Singapore’s comedy scene, Sharul has performed across Asia and beyond, using humor to challenge stereotypes and spark conversations. Whether on stage, screen, or in print, she blends wit with thought-provoking commentary, making her a standout figure in contemporary comedy.

Your latest show, Saree-ously Not Sorry*, picks up where *Saree Not Sorry left off. What inspired this evolution — and why the lifelong commitment to the saree on stage?

The saree is more than just a piece of fabric — it’s identity, elegance, and defiance all in one. As an Indian woman who has lived and performed across the world, I feel most powerful and beautiful in a saree. Saree-ously Not Sorry is me doubling down on who I am — loud, proud, draped, and unapologetic.

Your comedy tackles everything from airplane etiuette to global overpopulation. Are we just losing it as a society, or are we finally talking about the right things?

I think we’re somewhere between a breakdown and a breakthrough. People are melting down on planes, debating armrests and whether babies should exist — it’s peak chaos. But comedy thrives in chaos. The real question is: before asking if we need more children, shouldn’t we ask if we’re emotionally equipped to be decent adults?

You’ve toured across Southeast Asia extensively. How has that shaped your voice and what you choose to joke about?

Touring has been my biggest teacher. I’ve bombed, soared, and gotten side-eyes in cities I can’t even pronounce correctly. Southeast Asia — especially India — teaches you what the unsaid rules are. I’ve learned to walk the line between bold and banned. It’s a fine line... sometimes outlined with police tape.

Speaking of bold — being a comedian today can be risky. How do you balance truth-telling with the potential fallout?

The moment you pick up a mic, you accept the risk. Artists have always paid a price for honesty — sometimes with jail time, sometimes with just a really bad review. But that’s the deal. If we stop challenging power, prejudice, or even plane passengers, we’re just clowns with punchlines. I’d rather be a troublemaker with a truth.

 

 

Finally — what do you hope people take away after watching Saree-ously Not Sorry?

 

That laughter and introspection aren’t mutually exclusive. I want people to leave thinking, laughing — and maybe rebooking their aisle seat. Oh, and never doubt the power of a woman in a saree with a mic.