american story

Comedy saved Teruko Nakajima’s life.

In 2016, Nakajima received psychiatric care at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, diagnosed with depression, PTSD and suicidal ideation. Her doctors searched for ways to manage her stress by exposing her to various activities, including video games, serene Icelandic landscapes and an aerial silks performance. The last brought her anxiety down, revealing that the arts were the answer. Her doctor prescribed the arts, comedy specifically, so she went to the Upright Citizens Brigade for class.

She found a calling and a safe space in comedy.

“I didn’t know I was born a comedian,” Nakajima said. “Finally, I really felt I was accepted as a comedian, validated for who I am.”

Nakajima shares her healing journey to the stage in “Made in America,” which just had an encore performance at UCB on Tuesday after its award-winning run in 2022 (it is also available for streaming on UCB’s website through Tuesday). The one-woman show arrives in time for the United States’ 250th anniversary on Saturday, documenting Nakajima’s search for the American dream as a first-generation Japanese American woman. “Made in America” premiered in 2022 at the Hollywood Fringe Festival during Joe Biden’s presidency and following the Jan. 6 United States Capitol attack. In 2026, its musings on identity and belonging pierce through today’s political landscape shaped by Donald Trump’s second presidency.

“I wanted to let people know this is an American story,” she said.

“Made in America” is about Nakajima’s life. It begins in her mother’s womb. She felt so safe there, she yearned to return. Growing up, she experienced an emotionally and physically abusive life at home, recalling her father breaking furniture and her mother’s alcohol-induced belittling comments. But her name, Teruko, translates to a “shining child.” Thus, she proclaims in the show, “I’m a superstar!”

The beauty in “Made in America” is Nakajima’s ability to find the humor in her trauma. When the show transitions to her life in America, she talks about her life as a dominatrix in New York City and her struggles with romance in Los Angeles. Her comedic jabs at the American economy and humorous reflections juxtapose somber moments of stillness in the midst of her struggles. This balance puts her life into perspective, revealing a positive personality beneath a dark saga.

Nakajima performs “Made in America” at Upright Citizens Brigade Theater.

(Nick Rasmussen)

“I look very happy-go-lucky and cheerful, but actually, I am a very dark person because I have a dark history,” she said. “I always wanted to leave my story behind. I wanted to leave my mark in this world before I died, so I needed to make something.”

The first class Nakajima took at UCB was John Flynn’s storytelling course. There, she started building pieces of the show without realizing it. As they added up, the idea for a show surfaced. After class one day, she asked Flynn to direct it. Flynn, who has been teaching at UCB in New York and L.A. for about 20 years, agreed.

“She disarms people,” Flynn said. “There’s something about her that is just so unique and so delightful that you won’t forget her.”

Flynn first met her at his storytelling open mic. She walked in with her emotional support dog Titi (also known as Tiny Teruko), wearing her signature red heart-framed glasses, without lenses. Soon, these glasses would make him double over in laughter when she performed and cried, dabbing her eyes with tissue through the frame.

“When you start to learn her story and the experiences she’s had, it is amazing that she is so positive,” he said. “She’s such a sort of undeniable positive energy that she just radiates all the time, which is so compelling and why people are so drawn to her.”

Revived at UCB amid Trump’s second term and the nation’s 250th birthday, Nakajima’s show doubles as a defiant immigrant love letter to America — and a refuge for audiences feeling alone.

(Nick Rasmussen)

Nakajima puts all of herself into the show. Aside from comedy, she has been a cheerleader in Japan, a salsa dancer in New York and a sculptor on the side — she loves sculpting MLB players’ butts; Derek Jeter is her favorite. In the show, she folds these aspects of her life into a single story, dancing from section to section. Comedy is more than just laughs; it’s storytelling.

“I am so good at cheering people up, since I was very little,” she said. “I had no competition with others because I’m the one and only. Nobody looks like me.”

Together, Flynn and Teruko parsed through her life stories to give the show an arc. For Flynn, it’s like carving away at what is already there to create something fun and cohesive, like a sculpture. “What’s fun about directing one-person shows like this is that it’s usually just two people in a room putting something together,” Flynn said.

Bringing the show back this year, the work gets sharper and tighter, but the biggest shift is in its conclusion. Once optimistic about the future of life in America, the show now has a stronger desire to make change. There was a sense of hope in 2022 for women like Nakajima, an immigrant who sought safety in a new country and struggled with abuse from her family and strange men. Today, as Trump’s immigration policies lean on deportation and discrimination, she simply wants to be seen.

“America, thank you for not giving up on me,” Nakajima said toward the end of the show. She is proud to be American, not just because she gets to have the same nationality as her dog Titi, but primarily because of the new life it offered her. America promised happiness. Whether it actually comes is another story, but in this one, the promise itself gave her a sense of purpose.

“After the show, people come to me in person and through messages,” she said. “A lot of people said, ‘I felt like I am not alone.’ That gives me so much hope and unity. I feel safe and like I have something to look forward to because I’m not the only one.”

Flynn realized how much he took for granted while working on the show with Nakajima. “I think, even though these are scary times and things seem to be going in directions that aren’t the best, there are still great people, and there’s something that is still there and is not dying and is still fighting,” Flynn said.

When she began her acting journey, Nakajima thought she’d turn to drama, but there’s something more unguarded in comedy.

Nakajima holding up her dog Titi during a performance of “Made in America.”

(Nick Rasmussen)

“I’m very authentic and invincible through comedy,” she said.

By the end of “Made in America,” Nakajima is no longer trying to find her way back to her mother’s womb. She is confident in her place in the world. She remembers that she is a star. She brings out her dog Titi, who was hidden on stage throughout the entire performance, and shares that UCB gave her a new outlook on life. Comedy breaks away her stresses and allows viewers to be vulnerable with her.

“I always wanted to feel safe,” she said. “I never had that. Finally, I found a safe space, and then I realized that I’m actually important. I’m actually worthy. I’m so happy right now to be able to express myself through comedy because it’s the truth.”

WASHINGTON — Small towns across America had big plans to celebrate the nation’s semiquincentennial this weekend. Local historical societies scheduled town square readings of the Declaration of Independence, hired bands to play patriotic tunes, organized parades and set up themed baking contests.

But many of their most ambitious plans were scrapped after the Trump administration cut $100 million in federal funding for humanities nonprofits and state councils at the start of its term. The decision severely hampered local planning for America’s 250th anniversary, disrupting history projects, museums and educational programs nationwide.

Instead, the Trump administration funneled tens of millions in federal dollars to Event Strategies, the firm behind Trump’s infamous rally at the Ellipse on Jan. 6, 2021, to organize anniversary events throughout the nation’s capital centered on President Trump.

The result, historians say, has become a centralized, more politicized spectacle, marking the national milestone as a celebration of an imperial presidency rather than a revolution from kingly rule.

The spectacular show that Americans will see features Trump at its center, culminating a year of concerted efforts by the president to put his face on passports and currency, national park passes and government buildings.

Members of the Dance4Life studio in Claymont, Del., prepares to march ahead of the Red, White, & Blue To-Do Pomp & Parade on July 2, 2026, in Philadelphia.

(Al Drago / Getty Images)

Yet, beyond the noise of the nation’s capital, historians and teachers, docents and curators, archivists, tour guides and reenactors have sustained the messy, organic discourse of the American story, less funded but no less vocal in their patriotism.

“The way history has been argued since Trump returned to office has been a reminder that governments and political figures have remarkable power to shape a society’s historical memory,” said David Ekbladh, a history professor at Tufts University and author of “Look at the World: The Rise of an American Globalism in the 1930s.”

Trump’s effort to control the anniversary narrative has reminded Ekbladh of one of George Orwell’s most famous quotes: “Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past.”

“The administration’s clear signals that it can and will restrict funding to institutions seems to have muted the way many institutions, like museums and universities, have approached the anniversary,” Ekbladh added. “With this said, Trump’s own direct, personal use of the 250th has been less about articulating a clear view of the nation’s history than using the moment itself to keep attention on him.”

The White House has taken a more active role in the festivities than initially planned, setting up its own Freedom 250 project to supplement America250, a bipartisan congressional effort to celebrate the occasion.

Fencing is seen around the Great American State Fair on the National Mall on Thursday.

(Kevin Dietsch / Getty Images)

The Trump administration has directed funding to events centered on the president’s attendance, primarily around Washington, and partnered with conservative organizations such as PragerU and Hillsdale College to present the country’s founding story through a conservative Christian lens.

Historians are in broad agreement that this year’s celebration has garnered far less attention than the bicentennial, marked in 1976, which generated blanket media coverage and widespread national excitement.

Andrew Rudalevige, a professor of government at Bowdoin College and author of “The New Imperial Presidency,” attributed the lack of enthusiasm this time in part due to a more fragmented media landscape than existed 50 years ago, denying the country a “core curriculum” and a shared story.

“I don’t think it’s a lack of patriotism, so much as a determination that no presidential administration should be able to center itself as the focus of that patriotism,” Rudalevige said.

“There’s a lot to celebrate in the text of the declaration. But that’s not where the focus of the Freedom 250 efforts has been,” Rudalevige said. “It would have been interesting to see what the bipartisan America250 initiative could have come up with if its funding and energies had not been diverted.”

The Lincoln Memorial Reflecting Pool is fenced off in preparation for Fourth of July fireworks.

(Kevin Dietsch / Getty Images)

Trump has scheduled little national travel around the anniversary, visiting North Dakota this week for an event that allowed him to debut a new version of Air Force One, donated by Qatar and outfitted to the president’s tastes. Trump intends to keep the plane after leaving office for his personal use.

The jet will fly over the National Mall alongside the Defense Department’s most impressive equipment on Saturday, before the president delivers a speech in what is forecast to be a blistering heat wave. The evening will end, according to administration officials, with the largest fireworks display in U.S. history.

“The fundamental challenge that we face now is the fight between the historians — people who have been studying the past and who have been thinking about how to tell that story to the public — and government leaders over who gets to control that story,” said Peter Kastor, chair of the history department at Washington University in St. Louis.

“The people who are really on the front lines are museum professionals, the operators of historic sites and schoolteachers,” he said. “They face the responsibility for explaining the past to a general audience on a day-to-day basis, and they are the ones who most often face the backlash from people who want the story to be told differently.”