In the summer of 2017, a scene involving citrus, Tiffany Haddish, and an extremely game young actor named Kofi Siriboe became the most-discussed three minutes in American comedy. The grapefruit technique—we will spare you the mechanics—launched a thousand memes, a spike in supermarket produce sales, and the reasonable assumption that Siriboe would forever be That Guy From That Scene.

He had other plans.

The Quiet Pivot

Siriboe was already a working actor when Girls Trip landed, having spent years on Queen Sugar, Ava DuVernay's acclaimed Oprah Winfrey Network drama about a Louisiana family navigating land, legacy, and each other. The show ran for seven seasons, and Siriboe's Ralph Angel Bordelon—a formerly incarcerated father trying to rebuild his life—became one of television's more nuanced portraits of Black masculinity. Critics noticed. Audiences noticed. The grapefruit crowd, by and large, did not.

This suited him fine. In interviews over the years, Siriboe has been remarkably unbothered by the viral moment that introduced him to millions, treating it as neither albatross nor calling card. He understood something that escapes many actors thrust into sudden visibility: a meme is a moment, not a career.

What Comes After the Joke

The post-Girls Trip years have been deliberately eclectic. Siriboe executive-produced and starred in Really Love, a 2020 romantic drama that premiered at SXSW and later landed on Netflix, earning praise for its unhurried, adult approach to Black romance. He's taken supporting roles that let him disappear into ensembles rather than coast on recognition. He launched a production company. He stayed off the gossip pages.

Now approaching his mid-thirties, Siriboe occupies an interesting position: famous enough to open doors, not so overexposed that he's been typecast. The grapefruit scene, viewed today, plays less as career-defining embarrassment than as evidence of an actor willing to commit fully to material, dignity be damned. That willingness has served him well in more serious work.

Our take

Hollywood is littered with actors who became punchlines and never recovered, and with actors who ran from their breakout moments so aggressively they seemed ashamed of their own success. Siriboe did neither. He took the joke, pocketed the visibility, and got back to work. Eight years later, he's proof that the best response to virality isn't panic or denial—it's patience, and a good agent, and the quiet confidence that you have more to offer than fruit.