Comedian Clint Coley on His Bipolar Diagnosis and Why He’s Not Quiet About It

The Philly-raised comedian opens up about living with bipolar disorder, embracing medication, and why safe spaces might look different for Black men.

A Black man in a jean jacket holds his hands to his face.

Breaking generational curses doesn’t always look like therapy couches and wellness retreats. Sometimes, it looks like a Black man standing on stage telling jokes — and the truth. For Clint Coley, healing meant facing a diagnosis he didn’t want, committing to treatment that he once avoided, and learning that strength can look like asking for help. He’s even worked his bipolar diagnosis into his stand-up sets, using humor to open up conversations that rarely happen in public, especially among Black men.

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Following a crisis that led to hospitalization, Coley began to see how serious things had become. “It takes a while to wrap your head around the fact that you gotta take meds every single day. You have to do it. Like, ain't no you skipped your meds like four or five days.”

Coley’s honesty is rare — and needed. According to Mental Health America, while Black Americans experience bipolar disorder at the same rate as other groups, they are far less likely to be diagnosed or treated. Socioeconomic barriers, cultural stigma, and mistrust in medical institutions all play a role. “Our parents would just be like, ain't nothing wrong with you. Go sit down and shut up.”

Now a new father to a baby girl, Coley says parenthood has given him a different outlook. After years of struggling with suicidal ideation, becoming a dad reframed what was at stake. "I don't ever want my daughter to feel like her daddy gave up," he shared in our conversation.

For Coley, wellness means having space to show up authentically. Playing live video games with friends has offered a space for radical honesty. "My boy yesterday, he got on, I'm like, man, how you feel bro? He like, I'm gonna be real, I'm not alright. Alright bro, let's go shoot some [people in the game] and tell us why you not."

He doesn’t want to be anyone’s poster boy, but he’s also not hiding. “You gotta assemble the fucking Avengers. That's the only way to deal with it. It is me, my therapist, my friends who consistently make space for me, family, again, medicine — like all those things.”

Coley has no vision of becoming a wellness guru or a mental health poster child. But staying honest and unafraid to name what he's lived through might just give someone else permission to do the same.