If the role isn’t perfect, Tracee Ellis Ross suggests ‘transform it into your vision’

Tracee Ellis Ross, seen here in Los Angeles in June 2022, portrays a doctor in American Fiction. The movie is anticipated to win an impressive five Academy Awards, including best picture. Amy Sussman/Getty Images hide caption Amy Sussman/Getty Images

Tracee Ellis Ross, shown here in Los Angeles in June 2022, portrays a doctor in American Fiction. The movie is expected to win five Academy Awards, including best picture. Amy Sussman/Getty Images Actress Tracee Ellis Ross shares that working with first-time director Cord Jefferson was “a delight.” It’s like the scent of freshly cut grass, she explains: “You see everything with fresh eyes.” Ross recently collaborated with author-turned-director Cord Jefferson on American Fiction. The film, based on Percival Everett’s 2001 novel Erasure, narrates the tale of a disenchanted writer (portrayed by Jeffrey Wright) who refuses to publish his latest book because editors claim it’s not “Black” enough – only to achieve success on the bestseller list after crafting a book filled with his own ideas. Ross plays the writer’s sister, a doctor employed at Planned Parenthood.

Although American Fiction isn’t a thriller, Ross shares that she was immediately captivated by the narrative upon reading the script: “It was incredible to flip through the pages…” A decorated actress and producer, Ross headlined for eight seasons as Dr. Rainbow “Bow” Johnson, an anesthesiologist, wife, and mother of five, on the ABC drama series Black-ish. While show creator Kenya Barris initially envisioned the role with her in mind, Ross initially hesitated due to her apprehension about being typecast as a mother.

“Hollywood’s conception is constrained and particularly in its capacity to appreciate the resilience and beauty of black women and the array of what we can accomplish,” Ross remarks. Nevertheless, she adds, “There are instances when the role may not be precisely what you want, but you mold it into your vision.” “When the opportunity presents itself, you have to seize it,” she asserts. “There are countless actors, countless individuals with similar grand aspirations. Therefore, when given the chance, you must seize the ring.”

Tracee Ellis Ross portrays Lisa, and Leslie Uggams portrays her mother, in American Fiction. Claire Folger/Orion Releasing LLC hide caption Claire Folger/Orion Releasing LLC

Tracee Ellis Ross depicts Lisa, and Leslie Uggams embodies her mother, in American Fiction. Claire Folger/Orion Releasing LLC refers to her perspective on American Fiction as a “silent film.” Black individuals aren’t typically portrayed in silent films. The specifics are unconfirmed. We need not articulate our experiences, which are inscribed on the site. There’s a notion [filmmaker] Cord [Jefferson] infused into this film, and I believe he fought for this, providing our characters, individuals who gave life to the page, yet whom we truly breathed life into, a space to exist in a manner that conveys trust and awareness pertaining to the experiences of black individuals.

By refusing to have her black character Bow serve as “feminist wallpaper” How sitcoms operate, and the assumption of what exists, is that the narrative is relayed through the man, and the woman is either there to set it up or is present but void of a real story. You don’t witness her life on camera. She solely makes jests about the man. I was uninterested in engaging with that. And even on paper, for this woman to be a doctor and possess all these attributes, it held no significance. Unless writing continues to push boundaries and carve out that space. It won’t endure. This led me to constantly question, “But why?” I’m forever pondering if it rings true for the character and situation. Furthermore, I consider its implications in the broader television landscape and what we’re conveying. Growing up as the daughter of Motown icon Diana Ross, my mother would record at night, after putting us to bed, and then, she’d awaken us in the morning upon her return from the studio. She’d then proceed with our breakfast. She didn’t leave us for long durations. So, throughout approximately 10 years – I may not recall the precise duration – these were the formative years of my childhood: … [Living in] Central Park, her mother passed away. When you contemplate the multitude of occurrences during that period, it appears humanly implausible. I would assess all of this since in those years, I had mothers who were present, who planned our birthday celebrations, who dined with us, and if absent, phoned in for bedtime and morning wake-ups. I hail from a deeply special experience that Andy Warhol painted and drew us into, where Michael Jackson and Marvin Gaye and all these extraordinary figures would go to school in Switzerland and Paris, and partake in Christmases in San Moritz and other such activities. However, at its core, I was a cherished child for whom my mother created a space and was present. I had my siblings with whom I experienced everything. I draw from a deeply affectionate upbringing which I value as it laid the groundwork and offered insight on how to present my life to others. It’s just me. I sought to emulate my mother. I observed my mother as a woman who relished engaging in activities, who didn’t assert, ‘Behold me,’ but ‘this is me.’ I perceived a woman brimming with strength, employing it with poise and affection as an anchor, and I desired that. I yearned to be a woman on stage in a resplendent dress. It wasn’t the flamboyant attire or the stage that resonated with me. I sought something representative of who I am. I perceived my mother as a woman laden with responsibility, who didn’t proclaim, “Behold me,” but “here I am.” I encountered a woman brimming with strength, using it with grace and love as an anchor, and I aspired to that. In her conversation with Glamor about living solo, being an unmarried woman sans offspring [The motivation for delivering the speech was] years of endeavoring to learn to love myself in a world that posits I’m unworthy of love sans a partner or children. I continually strive to confront and combat this notion in a world that doesn’t consistently align with it, or laud it as fervently as I do. … Young women are imbued with the notion of envisioning their marriages, not their lives. I was among those girls. … I dreamt about my nuptials or my funeral – perhaps about discovering love, or individuals shedding tears in regret for not having cherished me as they ought to have. … It’s akin to, Am I aiming to live my life …? Am I constructing my life to be the person I choose, or am I constructing the life I’m expected to choose for myself?

I believe a considerable aspect of it stemmed from seeking the ideal relationship and grappling with solitude. I routinely journey solo. Since the age of 22, I have been voyaging alone. I dine alone. Through numerous instances of trial and error, painful moments, confronting and relinquishing shame, I eventually maneuvered through life as the person I aspired to be. It’s said that shame [stands for] He Must Know Everything. I desire for individuals to find the courage to be at ease in their skin and lead their lives. As I comprehend the struggles encountered when I felt insecure in my own body, I steadfastly aspire that I’m in the wrong and ought to have approached matters differently, conforming to the assumed desires of others. Heidi Saman and Susan Nyakundi conducted and edited this interview for broadcast. Bridget Bentz, Molly Seavy-Nesper, and Beth Novey adapted it for online dissemination.

Author: OpenAI