Finding Me

by Viola Davis

If I created a fable of my life, a fantasy, I see myself finally meeting God, gushing, crying, thanking the Almighty for the accolades, a fabulous husband, beautiful daughter, my journey from nothing to Hollywood, awards, travel. I can clearly see the Lord’s face, staring at me, taking me in and saying, “You never thanked me for creating you as YOU.”

They roared!!!! I had lost every bit of potency and belief in my work since entering Juilliard. In The Gambia, in the midst of my people, I found it. I found the party inside me. The celebration that needs to happen to combat the pain and trauma of memory. I found that there is no creating without using you.

When we ended our opening Broadway show of Seven Guitars after the curtain call, the lights came up, cameras from the television station glared in my face, everybody in their tuxedos and gowns was standing up clapping and shouting in thunderous applause and I saw MaMama and Daddy. Daddy was crying, clapping, staring at everybody, and I could tell his heart was pounding out of his chest. He looked beautiful; he had on a black tuxedo; he could always “clean up nice.” My mom was clapping uncontrollably. I had put them in a hotel across from the theater and they were so happy. It was a Best Western but it might as well have been the Four Seasons.

“Fame is a vapor. Popularity is an accident. Riches takes wings. And only one thing remains . . . CHARACTER.” —Horace Greeley

I was no longer solely defined by the family that raised me and my childhood memories.

My biggest discovery was that you can literally re-create your life. You can redefine it. You don’t have to live in the past.

A part of me began to understand the importance of time. I was trying to freeze it. It was especially driven home by how much time my career was taking up. It made me appreciate and value it as a life goal. I wanted to take in every part of their faces, hands, laughs, stories.

I thought my money and success could save all of them. I learned the hard way that when there are underlying issues, money does nothing. In fact, money exacerbates the problem because it takes away the individual’s ability to be held accountable.

Acting is a collaborative art form. The actor needs the director, writer, makeup artist, hairstylist, cinematographer, and finally the audience. You can’t act in your bedroom. Most people don’t understand what it is we do. That’s not being condescending, it’s true. Even other actors don’t get it. So they watch a movie and if they like it or don’t, they really don’t have the aesthetic to articulate why. Therefore, everything becomes the actors’ fault. If the role was smaller than they anticipated or not fully written, it becomes the actors’ fault. If the direction wasn’t good in a scene, it becomes the actors’ fault. There’s no real cognitive approach to directing the work of an artistic piece. If you are that character actor out there getting the leftovers, it’s very hard to compete with the actor who’s getting the filet mignon of roles. It just is. Once again, it’s a profession that is a tangled web of artists getting jobs based on bankability, clout, and not ability. There’s no rhyme or reason.

Not a lot of filmmakers are looking for trained Black actors to play drug addicts. Those actors are told that they’re not Black enough. You’re already dealing with a business where talent takes a back seat. But at least with white actors, talent has been able to seep through because of the sheer amount and quality of material.

But what did I say about life? It never stops. We always hope that it lands in our favor. At least, that’s how stories play out onscreen. There is living life for pleasure, great moments, and living life waiting for doom and gloom. Life exists somewhere in the middle.

My other issue was when Aibileen and the others were offered money and we refused it because we were so honorable; we felt it was more important for us to tell the story than take the money. I disagree. We would have taken the money. Being honorable is fantasy. Survival and how it brings out our nature is human.

That beautiful moment of finding out that I got the lead role in How to Get Away . . . was mixed with a fucked-up moment of feeling that I didn’t deserve it. Until I remembered the teachings of Sanford Meisner, who said the most important question an actor can ask is “Why?” I asked myself: Why can’t I be sexualized? Why can’t I be vulnerable? Why can’t I have a husband and a boyfriend? Why can’t I be a leading lady? As I continued to ask myself the question Why? I reached a dead end that asked me Why not?

I felt like I had two choices: either apologize for who I was and try to alter how I looked to meet their standards and try to fit in to what the masses were saying; or I could stay true to myself and make Annalise me, what I look like, what I sound like. I was at the point in my life where I chose me. That was a huge busting-out moment. I achieved on a different level than awards. I was finding me.

The question still echoes, how did I claw my way out? There is no out. Every painful memory, every mentor, every friend and foe served as a chisel, a leap pad that has shaped “ME!” The imperfect but blessed sculpture that is Viola is still growing and still being chiseled. My elixir? I’m no longer ashamed of me.