Thicker than Water: A Memoir

by Kerry Washington

Auditioning can be brutal. As an actor, there is no piano to sit at, no instrument to hide behind. You are the instrument of your expression, and your humanity is on the line. Decisions will be made about whether to reward you not based on whether you can kick your leg high enough or sing the notes low enough—what is evaluated instead is… you. Sometimes there is small talk, and in this brief window you try to simultaneously project warmth and likeability while also keeping your brain focused on the specificity and intensity required of the scene work that you will soon have to drop into. You stand in front of a group of decision makers—mostly strangers, at least at the beginning of your career—and you let them ogle you, evaluate you, and judge you before you utter a word. Because of this, you must painstakingly think through every choice—how to dress and wear your hair and what makeup to apply—because when you enter that casting office, your body is a walking billboard for whether or not you are “the one.” Auditioning is one of the areas in my life where I learned the hard way that I needed to take hold of the concept of success and wrangle it away from the grip of others to define it for myself. This may sound strange coming from a person who is considered generally successful, but I don’t do well when my goal is to be liked, loved, popular, or famous. I can’t control what other people think of me, and when I try, even now, I can lose a sense of myself and get pulled back...