Be friendly to everybody; protect yourself; people sometimes want a piece of you for no good reason; and always do things out of love not fear.
It's a two-way street. Hollywood, yes, I would say there is some feeding of some, as my character says in the movie Celeste & Jesse Forever (2012), 'pretty garbage-y stuff,' but we're also eating the garbage. So people have to show that there's a mature, complex moviegoing audience that wants to see - we have to see, we have to demand the better stuff.
I'm not against an action movie, I'm not against a big-budget movie, but the ones that I like are the ones where it's obvious where they took the time to develop characters, develop jokes, develop storylines. Like, don't waste my time and don't insult me, is how I feel.
[from a 2005 Glamour Magazine interview with Rashida and Kidada Jones] When I audition for white roles, I'm told I'm "too exotic." When I go up for black roles, I'm told I'm "too light." I've lost a lot of jobs, looking the way I do.
[from a 2005 Glamour Magazine interview with Rashida and Kidada Jones] Finally I was leaving for college, for Harvard. Daddy would have died if I turned Harvard down. Harvard was supposed to be the most enlightened place in America, but that's where I encountered something I'd never found in L.A.: segregation. The way the clubs and the social life were set up, I had to choose one thing to be: black or white. I chose black. I went to black frat parties and joined the Black Student Association, a political and social group. I protested the heinous book The Bell Curve [which claims that a key determinant of intelligence is inherited], holding a sign and chanting. But at other protests-on issues I didn't agree with- wondered: Am I doing this because I'm afraid the black students are going to hate me if I don't? As a black person at Harvard, the lighter you were, the blacker you had to act. I tried hard to be accepted by the girls who were the gatekeepers to Harvard's black community. One day I joined them as usual at their cafeteria table. I said, "Hey!"-real friendly. Silence. I remember chewing my food in that dead, ominous silence. Finally, one girl spoke. She accused me of hitting on one of their boyfriends over the weekend. It was untrue, but I think what was really eating her was that she thought I was trying to take away a smart, good-looking black man-and being light-skinned, I wasn't "allowed" to do that. I was hurt, angry. I called Kidada in New York crying. She said, "Tell her what you feel!" So I called the girl and...I really ripped her a new one. But after that, I felt insidious intimidation from that group. The next year there was a black guy I really liked, but I didn't have the courage to pursue him. Sometimes I think of him and how different my life might be if I hadn't been so chicken. The experience was shattering. Confused and identity-less, I spent sophomore year crying at night and sleeping all day. Mom said, "Do you want to come home?" I said, "No." Toughing it out when you don't fit in: That was the strength my sister gave me.