Thicker than Water: A Memoir

by Kerry Washington

If my life as Kerry Washington was relegated to chasing safety and love through the performance of low-maintenance, good-girl perfectionism, then the characters I played became my necessary escape into messy creativity, big bold feelings, and living out loud. In every character, I got to be somebody else. And that person got to be a real human being—in fact, it was my job to try to make her so. Each role I took on gave me permission to escape the trappings of my family’s dance and explore what being human could feel like. Each character needed me to feel deeply, to take risks, and to tell their truth. Through acting I would meet mentors, professors, and teachers who encouraged my embodied truth—in fact, acting itself would become my mentor, whispering to me, quietly calling me to adventure. “Come play!” it would say. “Come act, come pretend.” Like a seductive siren call, the scenes, the projects, the roles would call to me, saying, “forget your truth, tell mine instead,” and as an actor I would get to explore alternate realities and step into illusions, all the while still looking for the truth in them, seeking their humanity, and searching for myself. Looking back, I realize that in acting I discovered a lifeline that not only saved me but sustained me for decades. I have lived through my characters, looking for ways to speak freely, feel deeply, and be seen fully. To be believed. I spent years wrestling with the truth and searching for myself in every role I played, grat...