MINNEAPOLIS — Comrade Tripp was finally escaping his sister's basement and moving into his own Uptown apartment, one with plenty of windows and independence. He was less than thrilled.

"I don't want any light," he said in a mumble that suggested his dog just died. "As soon as I get there, the building will probably crumble."

The Eeyore-like disposition isn't just part of Tripp's personality. It's also his act.

The 31-year-old entertainer is one of dozens of young Twin Cities comics getting big laughs onstage for discussing depression, anxiety and other mental health issues. They're mirroring a national trend in which a new generation of stand-ups are exploring topics their predecessors were raised to avoid, like seeing a therapist and harboring suicidal thoughts.

"I don't drink coffee. I don't go to bars. I don't really hang out with people outside of comedy," said Tripp, barely touching the hot chocolate he had ordered at Sovereign Grounds in Minneapolis. "It's good to get out of the house and talk to anybody. For some of us, comedy is therapy."

Tripp and his peers owe a debt of gratitude to fellow Minnesotan Maria Bamford, a pioneer in exploring tricky territory. The Duluth native has been sharing her struggles with bipolar disorder and nervous breakdowns for more than 15 years. Her autobiographical sitcom, "Lady Dynamite," which premiered on Netflix in 2016, featured a character who moved back to Minnesota after spending time in a psychiatric ward.

"You have to have empathy for people and for yourself," she told the Star Tribune last year, right before the publication of her book, "Sure, I'll Join Your Cult: A Memoir of Mental Illness and the Quest to Belong Anywhere." "If you're not into talking about it, pull out. Abandon ship. But don't tell somebody, 'I don't want to hear you ever again talk about being depressed.' We have to be able to talk about suicide in order to have any level of prevention.'"

Another veteran at the forefront of the movement is Gary Gulman, who used his 2019 HBO special, "The Great Depresh," to share how mental health issues had forced him to cancel gigs and try electroshock therapy.

The special earned rave reviews and elevated him to the A List. But he confronted skeptics when developing the material. He recalled being in Grand Rapids, Mich., where the club owner insisted on showing him comment cards after the performance.

No shame in sharing

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