He was homeless and stealing food to survive. Now he’s teaching kids how to heal from trauma — with improv

A difficult upbringing manifested in depression, anxiety and a prevailing sense of inadequacy later in life. At his lowest points, he dabbled in drugs, drank heavily, and attempted suicide multiple times, he said. 

Through years of therapy and discovering a passion for theatre and performance, Robert-Tahiri channelled his formative experiences into a program that teaches youth how to understand and cope with trauma through comedy. He piloted it at an orphanage in Cape Town, South Africa, last summer and will move there Friday to continue the workshop for three months and hopefully long term, he said.

The program, called HaHaHelps, uses improv exercises to help orphaned and precariously housed youth analyze how their upbringing and experiences have shaped their emotions. It fuses comedy and psychology to develop confidence, emotional regulation skills and a stronger sense of self.

Robert-Tahiri, who grew up in Brampton and graduates on Thursday with a degree in psychology from the University of Toronto’s Woodsworth College, said he has a passion for working with kids, especially boys who are reluctant to share their feelings, because he can relate to their experiences.

“I’m validating them, encouraging them, homing in on their interests ... I try and give them what I wish I had,” he said.

As a teenager, Robert-Tahiri said he felt like he was living a double life. To the outside world, he seemed privileged and never wanted for food or clothing. His father, who worked in the aviation industry, would take the family on annual trips to Hawaii.

At the same time, he said his father constantly belittled him, telling him he was stupid and would never amount to anything, while his mother was emotionally distant.

Robert-Tahiri said he suppressed feelings of self-loathing for years and took on the role of class clown to find validation.

 “I was so invisible at home. But as soon as I popped a joke and got a laugh in class, it was like ‘Oh my God, I matter.’ ”

When he became homeless in high school, he started stealing food and selling drugs to make ends meet. He hid that he was couch-surfing from school staff, and remembers breaking into tears when a teacher once pulled him aside and asked why he hadn’t submitted an important assignment.

“(I said) I don’t have a computer because I don’t have a home,” he recalled. “How am I supposed to write about Louis the 14th or whatever in the distant past when I don’t even know if I got a future?”

Robert-Tahiri tried to repress negative emotions he carried from childhood, but couldn’t stop them from surfacing. After an angry outburst got him kicked off the soccer team, a classmate encouraged him to rehearse for a school play. He unexpectedly landed the lead role. 

One teacher, who would become a mentor, noticed his knack for performance and encouraged him to foster his talent and apply to the Neighborhood Playhouse School of the Theatre in New York.

“That’s what sparked hope for me when I was homeless,” he said.

Robert-Tahiri was accepted to the school, and paid for it through money he saved from working in a call centre and later a scholarship. He spent about a decade as an actor and comedian before enrolling in U of T as a mature student.

He said he decided to study psychology to form a better understanding of the links between childhood adversity and mental health. Improv comedy, in particular, is helpful in building mindfulness, resilience and self-awareness for kids because of its kinetic pace, he said.

Zama Mbele, program director of SOS Children’s Villages in South Africa, where Robert-Tahiri piloted the program, said she marveled at how the kids she serves were able to connect with him because of his gentle approach and relatability.

“They actually saw themselves in Youness ... it helped them come out of their shell,” she said.

Robert-Tahiri will travel back to South Africa on Friday and said he hopes to expand the program to other countries, including Canada. He’s in talks with a youth homeless shelter in Toronto to implement a version of it.

“This won’t resonate with every single child of course, but I believe there’s potential for those kids who don’t respond to traditional treatments,” he said.

“Now is the time to try new solutions, not $200-an-hour therapy, not a five-year wait-list, but something that’s rooted in joy and connection.”

If you are having thoughts of suicide or are worried about a loved one, call or text 988 for suicide-prevention support at any time of day or night, or call the Talk Suicide Canada helpline at 1-833-456-4566.