Who-LA: Brandon Kyle Goodman Is Taking You To Heaux Church

Written and published by Homero Rosas Navarrete on October 29, 2026

Brandon Kyle Goodman has a pew with your name on it. You can leave your Sunday best at home, and your shame at the door.

In HEAUX CHURCH, the writer, actor, and comedian behind some of your favorite filthy and tender moments on Big Mouth and Human Resources leads a service that makes room for desire. Drawing on their upbringing as a pastor’s child, Goodman brings together personal confession, a revival sermon, music, dancing, and puppets. Come ready to laugh, possibly cry, and reconsider a few things you were taught about your body.

Ahead of the show’s West Coast premiere at The Elysian, November 5–8, we caught up with Goodman for Gay DoLA’s Who-LA, our interview series spotlighting the artists and creatives behind what’s happening around Los Angeles. Pull up a pew: we’re talking queer joy, finding humor in shame, and why every good service deserves a DJ.

Get tickets to HEAUX CHURCH!

Note: all HanJie Chow HEAUX CHURCH images are courtesy of Ars Nova from the 2025 off-Broadway production.

Gay DoLA: For someone walking into HEAUX CHURCH knowing nothing beyond the title, how would you welcome them into your congregation?

Brandon Kyle Goodman: Come on in, baby, there’s a pew with your name on it! HEAUX CHURCH is the sex talk you never got but always deserved. All I ask is that you leave the shame at the door. We’ll laugh, we’ll sing, we might cry a little, and you’ll walk out lighter than you came in.

You don’t need to know the hymns, you don’t need your Sunday best, and you definitely don’t need to have it all figured out.

The show brings together a revival sermon, personal confession, and dance party. What was the first piece of it you created, and how did the rest come together?

Honestly? It started with Instagram and my podcast. Messy Mondays and Tell Me Something Messy are just people telling me things they’d never say at Thanksgiving. They’re my big ol’ confession booth. But honey, I wanted a sanctuary. A room where a whole group of people could exhale at the same time. So I built the service around it: the welcome, the testimony, the sermon, the fellowship. And if I’m throwing a service, there’s going to be a DJ. The whole thing runs on something I call disruptive curiosity: intentionally asking questions that interrupt personal habits, generational cycles, and internal narratives to live a liberated life. And yes, there are puppets, beautifully designed and operated by Greg Corbino. They are my favorite brain babies.

Growing up as a pastor’s child, what did you learn about holding a room’s attention? Do you catch yourself drawing on those lessons when you perform?

Everything! I grew up watching how you can take a room from a whisper to a holler and back. The call and response, the pause before the punchline, knowing when to let people sit in a moment. In its own way, that’s the reason people go to the theater. I absolutely catch myself doing it. Sometimes I’ll hit a beat on stage and realize, “Oh, that’s the cadence I know.”

What does the word “heaux” mean to you, and what made you want to put it next to “church”?

H-O is what they called you. H-E-A-U-X is what you actually are. I define it as a person who commits to the liberation of themselves and others by thoughtfully interrogating their relationship to sex using curiosity, communication, and compassion. The word was never the problem. And putting it next to “church” was the point. I was taught those two words could never sit in the same room. I wanted to build the room where they do.

In building your own version of a Sunday service, what did you want to carry with you from that tradition, and what did you need to rewrite?

I kept the community. The music, the fellowship, the feeling of a whole room believing in something together. That part was always holy to me. What I rewrote was the shame. In my church, your body, your desire, and who you love aren’t sins to confess. They’re things to celebrate. Same structure, new gospel.

The show draws on deeply personal experiences, including your estrangement from your mother. How do you decide what you’re ready to share publicly, especially when your relationship to those experiences may still be changing?

I only share what I’ve done some healing around. Not finished healing, because I don’t think that’s a thing, but enough that I can stand in it without bleeding on the audience. The show lets me be honest about where I am right now, and if that changes, the show can change with me. That’s the gift of live theater.

When you’re unpacking shame and sexual repression, how do you find the humor? Has an audience ever laughed at something that you didn’t initially realize was funny?

Shame is ridiculous once you say it out loud! The things we were told to hide are usually the most human, most relatable things about us, and that’s where the laughs live. I say the embarrassing thing first, out loud, so the room knows it’s safe to be human. Laughter is how the room tells me “me too.”

Your work on Big Mouth and Human Resources explores sex, shame, and vulnerability with plenty of humor. What did working on those shows teach you that you brought into HEAUX CHURCH?

That you can be filthy and tender in the same breath. Those rooms taught me that the most embarrassing stuff about bodies and feelings is exactly where the heart is, and if you make people laugh first, they’ll let you take them somewhere real. Plus, I spent years voicing Walter, a literal love bug, so you could say I’ve been in ministry for a while.

How did you and director Lisa Owaki Bierman work together to turn such personal material into a theatrical experience? What did she see in the show that helped you see it differently?

Lisa is a genius at structure. I came in with stories, and she helped me see the service, the arc that takes the audience from welcome to release. She’d catch the moments I was rushing past because they were hard and say, “Stay there.” Those became some of the most important parts of the show.

What has Lena Waithe’s involvement meant to you, and is there a conversation or piece of feedback from her that has stayed with you?

It’s transformative. When you’re an artist who exists at the margins, the climb is that much harder, and you can’t do it without support. Lena is support personified. She rolls up her sleeves and gets into the trenches. She hustles with me, as a partner, to get this show in front of audiences. To have someone not just like me, or believe in me, but actually lift me up? It keeps my heart open and my fire burning.

She’s also moderating our Kiki @ Curtain talkback on Saturday, November 7, so come see the deacon in person!

Music and dancing are part of this congregation, too. Which song or musical moment best captures the spirit of HEAUX CHURCH, and why?

“Church Girl” by Beyoncé. Period. That song is HEAUX CHURCH in four minutes. It opens with a gospel sample that sounds like Sunday morning, and then the beat drops and suddenly it’s Saturday night. That’s exactly what I’m doing. It says you can love God, love your body, and shake it all in the same breath, without apologizing for any of it. When that song hits in the show, the whole room is moving together, strangers, couples, friends, and you can feel everybody let go at once. That’s the whole show in one moment: joy as a form of freedom.

After the extended Off-Broadway run, what have audiences taught you about the show? Are you approaching anything differently for the LA premiere?

We did it first in New York, and that run taught me what the show is, and what it isn’t. Audiences taught me how much people are carrying. After shows, folx would come up and tell me things they’d never said out loud, and that made me trust the vulnerable moments even more. For LA, I’ve been in rehearsals with Lisa, tightening every moment.

The LA run includes post-show conversations with guests including Darnell Moore, Kid Fury, and Lena Waithe. What made you want to keep the conversation going after the performance, and what are you excited to explore with them?

Because the show opens a door, and I don’t want to slam it at curtain call! People leave with so much to say, so every night ends with a talkback we’re calling Kiki @ Curtain. Our moderators are Darnell L. Moore, Kid Fury, and Lena Waithe, and each of them brings something different, whether that’s faith, culture, sex, or storytelling. I want to get into all of it, honestly and messily.

For our readers making a night of it, what would your ideal LA itinerary look like before or after HEAUX CHURCH? Any favorite places to eat, grab a drink, or keep talking?

Honey, start at Hi Tops! We have an amazing partnership with them for the run, and it’s the perfect place to grab a cocktail and get in the mood before the service. Then come to church, get your sermon, sing, dance, and testify. And when it’s over, head right back to Hi Tops to keep the fellowship going. Because let’s be real, after HEAUX CHURCH, you’re going to have some things to talk about.

When someone leaves HEAUX CHURCH, what do you hope they feel a little less ashamed of, or a little more free to do?

I hope they feel a little less ashamed of wanting. Wanting pleasure, wanting love, wanting to be seen. And I hope they feel a little more free to ask for it out loud. If one person leaves and finally has the honest conversation they’ve been avoiding, with a partner, a friend, or themselves, then church was in session.

Consider your invitation delivered. Goodman’s congregation has room for the embarrassing questions, the complicated feelings, and anyone who needs a little Beyoncé to get moving. Bring a friend you can laugh with, and maybe keep talking with long after the curtain comes down.

HEAUX CHURCH makes its West Coast premiere at The Elysian November 5–8, with Kiki @ Curtain conversations following each performance. Grab your tickets and take your seat. Church is in session.