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First time onstage, I was absolutely awful. I was horrible. I had jokes prepared; but they just weren’t good jokes. But what was good is that I didn’t have fear. It didn’t matter that the jokes weren’t working—I was in love with the fact that I was on a stage. I was in love with the fact that there were people in the crowd and that I had a microphone in my hand. Every joke didn’t work, but I would figure it out. The silence didn’t deter me from wanting to be a comedian.

Comedy brought my dad and his surroundings together. For the dark moments that my dad had in his life—which were a lot—the memories I have that are positive are associated with comedy and laughter. So, at a young age, I saw the power of laughter. There was such a negative cloud over my home that when I saw what laughter did, I wanted to embody just that. I wanted to bring that, not just to my household, but to other people.

My mother was a woman who was never content. We were talking on the stairs, and I told you—I said the one thing I’ve taken from my mom that’s just branded in me is that you get one life, and out of that one life, you’re only going to get what you put into it. The thing I’ve taken from my mom is that feeling of never being content, never being okay with where you are. Because after every level, there’s another level, whether you realize it or not.

When you look at me now, as a successful comedian and actor, and you start to see the tiers—model, producer, writer, network owner, radio channel owner, author—there are so many things acting as olive branches to a tree because I realized that the tree just grows. It doesn’t stop growing. A tree only stops if you choose to say, "I’m not watering it anymore." But at the age of forty, I feel there’s so much more water I can put into this tree, and so many more things that can hang from my tree. That comes from my mother’s ability to reinforce that what you think a child isn’t receiving, he may not be at that moment, but at a later time, the light bulb will go off, and he’ll think, "Oh, that’s what that was about." The lessons taught to me at a young age of 14 through 18 have clicked in at the age of 24 to now going on 40. That’s the win—I’ve realized all the work she put in.

My mom was a very religious woman. A little fact about her is that she never came to any of my comedy shows. When I started, even when things were going well, she never attended a comedy show. Never. It never bothered me because she supported me, but she didn’t like the environment—she didn’t like alcohol, smoking, or cuss words, so she never went. I was okay with that because that’s not what she was about. But she would always ask how it went, always wanted to know if it was still the passion I felt, if I was going to go through with it. We had conversations about it. When she passed away, we found a box. My mom had clippings and memorabilia from everything I’d done in stand-up. So, though she was never there in person, she was aware and gathered all the things her child did that acted as anklets of any type of success, as minor as they may have been. Kevin Hart’s little flyers that were in a newspaper—she clipped them out and saved them. The things that were in the neighborhood, whether on a local restaurant wall or a check-cashing place, she saved the clippings. All of my hustle and bustle, she tracked. To me, that was the most amazing thing—that was my nod from an angel.

I couldn’t pay my rent. I couldn’t pay my rent. I was living by myself, doing stand-up comedy. I was 19, and my half of the rent was $400 a month, but I just didn’t have it. I was like, “Mom, look, you said you were going to help me while I was doing stand-up. I know I was trying to do it myself, but I need your help. They’re going to evict me.” And she was like, “Read your Bible.” I told her I read the Bible, but the notices were on the door, and they were going to evict me. She said, “Talk to me when you read your Bible.” I’m like, “All right, whatever, Mom.” A couple of days go by, and they changed the color of the notice—it was now pink. Pink meant it was real – 3 days left. “Mom, they’re going to kick me out. I need the money, or I won’t have a place to live.” “Did you read your Bible?” she asked. I told her I did, but she replied, “Then you wouldn’t be talking to me.” I got frustrated, hung up, and, later that night, opened up the drawer and thought, “Let me just read this damn Bible so I can honestly tell her I did and maybe get her help.” I opened up the Bible, and the rent checks for the rest of the year fell out of it. It’s true. Literally, for every month of that year, even months where I had to scrape to find rent, the money from my mom was always there. Her biggest lesson to me was, “Don’t lose your faith. Keep faith. Read the Bible.” From that day on, I started reading the Bible. But later I had to go and she said, “You’ve been lying to me all this time about reading the Bible.”

When she was at her sickest—my mom passed away from ovarian cancer—she didn’t tell us how serious it was. My brother and I figured it out when we saw her declining. We basically had to drag her to the hospital, and that’s when we found out she had been trying to treat herself naturally. She didn’t believe in doctors or medicine; it just wasn’t who she was. But by the time we got her in, it was too late, and the doctor let us know it was terminal. We’d lose her in about 30 days. My brother and I were shaken up. We decided we should talk to Mom about it before the doctor did. We started to tell her, but she stopped us and said, “You don’t need to talk to me about how much life I have left. You’re wasting valuable time with negativity. We could be doing other things. Talk to me, spend time with me, read to me.” She was a trooper of all troopers. We never talked about death until the very end. No one was allowed to bring up dying; we only talked about great moments—family reunions, the things we loved most about her. It was nothing but laughter until her last day. That showed me you can’t break a great spirit. Some people carry so much, but they maintain the highest levels of positivity because of their spirit. My mom’s will to be happy, after everything she’d done, was what I saw at the end. She spent those last days focused on happiness, not stress. There was nothing but happiness.

You can’t break what’s been built to last.

In stand-up comedy, you grow into who you’re supposed to be. At first, you’re doing a version of what you think is funny, but you don’t really know. You’re trying to figure it out. You’re throwing everything at the wall to see what sticks—that’s the gamble. The gamble with comedy is, “I think it’s funny. Let’s see if you guys think it’s funny.” If they don’t, you go back to the drawing board. The high volume of stuff you think is funny isn’t always going to be funny.

Talking about my life and being true to who I am is what people are going to gravitate toward. People love to relate; people love to see what’s real. If I talked about things you couldn’t identify with, I’d be alienating myself from my crowd. The best way to make myself a part of my crowd is to be real, because we all love real. So my life, my mistakes, my ups, my downs, my marriage, my divorce, my kids—that’s what we all share; we just share it differently. We all travel. If you don’t travel, you want to travel. Where would you want to go? There’s so much I can break down that acts as connective tissue between me and everyone. I can relate to everybody without changing who I am. Ultimately, you just want to know about the person you’re watching, so when you walk away, you think, “That was interesting, that was funny.” But if you feel like you know me, and you laugh, then you grow with me. Over the years, authenticity and honesty have allowed my fan base to grow with me.

The only way to get to the point of change is to understand the mistakes made before the change. So I’m a person who can raise my hand and say, I’ve made a lot of mistakes, did a lot of dumb shit, but I’ve learned from it, I’m better from it all, and now I sit here a better guy, a better comedian, a better craftsman, a better entertainer, and a better businessman. But it’s because of the mistakes I made. If I didn’t make those mistakes, I wouldn’t get to sit here and be the guy I am today. You have to fuck up; you have to. I want people to understand that it’s okay—there’s nothing wrong with fucking up as long as you learn from it. I tell my kids all the time, you’re not going to be straight-A students all the way through school. I want it to happen, but when it doesn’t, that doesn’t mean you’re a bad student. It means on this particular test, they threw some curveballs you didn’t handle correctly. How do we accept this, learn from it, and handle the next test better? If I got to the point where I was unrealistic and went, “You didn’t get another A!!!,” am I being real, am I being true to what I know of who I am? Am I really giving good lessons, or am I allowing my kids to understand and grow? I want them to understand and grow the same way I have. In everything I’ve done in life, I can honestly say I’ve learned and grown. That’s the dopest thing about being authentic. I’m real enough to say when I’m wrong, real enough to go, “Yeah, I get it, I learned from that, and I’m better because of it.” But I’m also real enough to say we all need to take a step back and accept that perfection shouldn’t be expected from each and every person. You can’t do it.

I don’t like not knowing; I don’t like being content with not understanding. So when I see what others can achieve, what can be done from a thought, a want, or a drive, it makes me think, “I have the same thoughts, feelings, and wants.” I don’t have what these people have; I haven’t done nearly half of what they’ve done. That makes me want to work harder; it means I’m not doing as much as I could, because these people prove that what I want can be done. I’m not looking at one person who got lucky; I’m looking at 44 people doing amazing things. Why am I not number 45?

My purpose is bigger than just making people laugh or selling movie tickets now—it’s a feel-good that’s associated with me. Now, when I’m in the street, people come up and say, “Hey, Kev, I had a heart attack, and I swear to God, I didn’t want to get out of bed, but something about what you’re doing, what you said, made me get up. I’ve been trying to get in shape.” Or, “Kev, I lost one of my kids. I was so down, but I see how you attack every day, and you make me feel like there’s something else for me in life.” When you start to realize you have a different purpose, that you’re reaching people in a different way, people give you a new level of energy because of what you’re putting out, giving it back to you. You start to think, “Oh shit, I’m making an impact.”

If my kids can walk away from it all and say, “Yo, our dad did so much for so many people,” that’s bigger than saying, “Our dad was famous and funny.” That’s the difference for me.

Within the urban community, what I’ve found is that many issues stem from a lack of knowledge, understanding, and opportunity. When you know that and understand the real anger behind it, you see there aren’t always efforts to change it. It’s not something you can change overnight; it’s something that requires baby steps to help and motivate others to join the movement you’re creating.

The biggest reason for my entrepreneurial drive right now is being a sponge. When you’re around other entrepreneurs and see the benefits of a creative mind, it sparks yours. The only way to reach my goal—if I’m trying to become a billionaire and throw that money back into several communities—is to surround myself with people who have that same mentality. One thing I’ve learned is that success doesn’t come from one single effort; there are several different things, chances, and ideas you’re constantly exploring. Out of those ideas, you find a great group of people to surround yourself with who can help you position yourself for success. It’s not done as an individual; it’s done with a team that can help bring your ideas to reality.

When you have a real, valuable team with a high level of energy, effort, and determination to make something work because they believe in it, the chances of failure are slim. I’ve been lucky enough to work with great people, and I credit my team every chance I get because I didn’t get here by myself. I got here with people who help motivate, push, and stay true to the course we’re all on.

The best part of having those relationships is that they’re real. I don’t have anyone kissing my ass in this business; I have people who tell me how it is. If I suck, they tell me I suck. If I’m wrong, they tell me I’m wrong.

I’m openly flawed. That doesn’t mean you can’t do or achieve something; it means you’re human. As a flawed person, I’ve still managed to be an amazing father, an amazing husband, a provider, and a visionary. I think with being a visionary, you realize you become a leader. Within my leadership and what I put out there for those who work with me or are part of my empire, it’s not a boss-and-employee relationship; it’s a “we” relationship. The best way to lead is to make people feel like they’re part of everything. My team feels like they’re a part of everything I have because they understand I can’t do it without them.

I learned that in life: if you can lead and look back to see the people you’ve led and what they now have, that’s the best justification of leadership, because everyone was able to achieve their own goals.

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