Kat Ellison Williams

Kat frames his whole life with one word: “comeback.” As a kid, he saw himself as funny (even if others didn't see it yet), leaning on sharp comebacks and barbed comments as a kind of armor. Only later did he realize that what felt funny to him might have landed as bullying to others. He always imagined himself as a writer first, turning out humorous little stories and, eventually, jokes in his head long before he ever touched a mic.

His first stand‑up experiences in Milwaukee around 2014 were “brutal,” but they were also enough of a win to keep him coming back, even as they followed intense experiences like eating disorder treatment. Comedy and survival were already intertwined for him. On the toughest challenges he's faced, Kat observes, “I feel like I've had many comebacks in my life… thinking I was gonna kill myself, and then not. And then, you know, restarting performance and things like that." It's not a case of the comeback kid—it's a case of the comeback Kat.

While his first experience in comedy was in Milwaukee, starting improv in Austin allowed Kat’s brain to finally get a little quieter. He describes walking into theaters and classrooms feeling physically sick from stage fright and social anxiety, but then hitting these brief, electric moments when the inner critic shuts off. That’s what hooks him. “Doing improv was just like better for my mental health in general… it was so healthy for me to not be so focused on like, perfection and a final product,” Kat says.

Turns out improv is better for his mental health than the perfectionism of stand‑up—two hours of making things up, no editing, no “final product,” just play. Transitioning then reshapes how he relates to comedy. As a trans man, Kat has found that being seen as a man makes stand‑up feel less like exposing a self he hates and more like presenting who he actually is. His voice drops into a register that feels right, and suddenly musical theater, singing, and auditioning become exciting instead of uncomfortable. Like the Radiohead song, "Everything in Its Right Place," Kat found things falling into place and joy on stage.

If you're as strong a performer as Kat is, it's a matter of time before the siren call of teaching sounds in the halls of our small Austin theaters. Kat is armed with an MFA in creative writing (and is a published author), which lends itself perfectly to teaching improv and sketch. Add a genuine love for workshops, writers’ rooms, and helping people sharpen ideas, and it's no surprise that Kat is so highly regarded.

In addition to being an active improviser, he's been pouring himself into “Daddy’s Boy,” a stand‑up/solo show about his dad—a man he idolized, who loved him, but couldn’t really process his transition. What started as a 25‑minute Frontera Fest piece grew into an hour he’s now taping so it can live as a finished work and he can finally put that material down. After the taping on April 19, he wants to reset and focus on new stand‑up, even though he’s also co‑creating “Dad Hole,” an experimental, dad‑themed play. When he looks ahead, he doesn’t picture serenity; he pictures motion and mess.