GLAMOUR’s Women of the Year Awards 2023 Game-changing Performer honouree, Ariana DeBose is a multi-award-winning actor, singer and dancer as well as an advocate. In 2022, she became the first queer woman of colour to win an Academy Award. Here Ariana, 32, reveals the importance of her activism and what it means to her to use her platform and performances to be a bona fide game-changer.
‘If I am the first of anything, it means I will not be the last,’ this thought popped into my head at one of the many Award shows I had the privilege of attending in 2022 and it’s become the through-line of my career to date.
I hope my performances in films and on stage have helped break down stereotypes and encourage more authentic storytelling. I see it all as a sign that change is possible, and we have to keep pushing.
The aftermath of that 2022 awards season left me in a freefall, and to be frank it took me a while to understand my new reality. I was overwhelmed and on the outside, I felt very shiny, but my insides felt “sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread”, which is a quote I have always loved from Bilbo Baggins in JRR Tolkien’s Lord Of The Rings. I needed to go back to my roots and to who I was before that time of winning numerous awards, wearing glamorous gowns on the red carpet and meeting my heroes of the silver screen – the magical transformation of Ariana DeBose as the world saw it.
This led me back to advocacy: advocacy is part of my root system. Advocacy is grounding, it’s nourishing and it’s rewarding. You don’t have to be a public figure with a significant social media following to make a difference – you just have to care. Make an effort. Show up. A whisper can become a rallying cry, a ripple can become a tidal wave of change, and one person standing up for what’s right can become a movement. Anyone can be a game-changer.
As for me, I’ve always felt compelled to help others, working to give back to my community and using my voice for good – for I wouldn’t be here without those who took an interest in me. So, helping to nurture the next generation of diverse voices in the entertainment industry is incredibly important to me – whether through teaching dance classes at my former dance studio, visiting programmes, speaking at functions for young people, or taking up a seat on the board of trustees at the American Film Institute (AFI). I think it’s not only important to share what I’ve learned with those I mentor, but to hear and learn from them. What do they observe? What are they interested in? What matters to them should matter to us, because they are the future.
For young people who may be struggling with their own identities, showing them that they can aspire to achieve their dreams regardless of their background or sexual orientation – it’s important.
We are living in a wild time, my friends. Politically, we’re heading into an election year in the US that seems unthinkably more fraught with divisive issues than ever before. Socially, we’re navigating a tenuous time where issues like race, religion and sexuality seem to divide us further and further. This isn’t just happening in the US, but all around the world. This moment in time seems pivotal, like we’re all being called to stand up for what we believe in.
I fervently believe that using your voice and your time can actually effect change, and I’m inspired now more than ever to use my position of privilege and my platform to do just that.
I, along with a lot of the country, watched in disbelief when the Supreme Court overturned Roe v Wade on June 24, 2022. I’ve been gutted to see the rapid erosion of these rights on the state level, thanks to that federal decision. North Carolina, where I grew up, dancing and dreaming as a little girl, enacted a 12-week abortion ban, including other burdensome restrictions. I believe that every person has a right to bodily autonomy and should be free to make their own healthcare choices in consultation with their chosen doctor. As I searched for a way to help, a way to work to restore reproductive protections and assist in providing resources for those in need, I discovered a non-profit organisation called A Is For. They work to provide access to a full spectrum of reproductive healthcare free from judgement, scrutiny and obstruction. I help raise money for this organisation, for the people doing this work on the ground to help those in need. Reproductive rights are human rights – it’s as simple as that.
Candidly, to be considered a Game-changing Performer is both flattering and a bit daunting. In my mind, I see a game-changer as a pioneer who upsets conventions, challenges and then strives to change draconian rules, and inspires others to follow on freshly blazed pathways. When considering if I could view myself as a game-changer in this way (spoiler alert: the answer is kinda!), I recall a moment from years ago.
I had been a part of a film project I really believed in, one with a queer love story at the heart of it. I was so proud of the work and had high hopes for what this project could mean to the LGBTQ+ community. To promote it, there would be a magazine cover story, but I soon learned that the actors to be featured didn’t include myself or any of the other openly queer actors from the cast. I was unsure if this was intentional, but nevertheless, it did not sit well with me. How could we authentically promote our story about giving visibility to queer identity without giving visibility to actual queer people? Now, I was not very high up on the call sheet, I didn’t yet have a statue to my name. However, I made a call to the director and simply said, “The math is not mathing here.”
To be clear, I didn’t care about being on the magazine cover – and, ultimately, I was not, which to me was perfectly acceptable. I cared about staying true to the purpose of the project. This was always about representation to me. Seeing an openly queer star on a magazine cover alongside a diverse and respected group of actors would have given me hope as a kid. The end result: my queer-identifying castmate was ultimately included on the cover.
Now, even if that had nothing to do with me specifically speaking up, it made me realise how important it is to speak my mind about the issues that are important to me and wield my influence when possible.
It can be challenging to feel secure in an industry whose whims and priorities change on a dime, but that moment changed the game for me. It told me I could trust in the relationships I was building and be bold enough to speak my mind. It solidified my faith that if I walk my path with authenticity, integrity and kindness, perhaps I can move the needle. If that’s game-changing, then yes, the phrase applies to me.
Since then, I’ve gradually grown more comfortable with sticking my neck out on important matters and doing my best to wield whatever influence I might have for the benefit of those around me. It can be intimidating to stand up and speak your mind, to tell the world exactly who you are. Simply walking down the street in New York City holding a girlfriend’s hand was scary. But I chose to be open and honest about who I am, despite the consequences. I would like to think that my choice to move through the world in this way is helping to foster understanding and acceptance. That in some way I am contributing to the broader societal conversation about equality, love and acceptance. And by telling the world who I am, I just might make it easier for others to do the same.
Believe it or not, I’m uniquely positioned to do this. My identity as a queer woman of colour places me at the intersection of multiple marginalised communities. I am essentially a full bingo card of all the issues in contention in the US right now, thank you very much! The marginalisation of my communities is manifesting in a myriad of ways that range from inconvenient to legitimately terrifying. Every day, there are stories in the news about ways political groups and sections of the government are trying to strip away inalienable rights from the LGBTQ+ community, restrict and regulate bodily autonomy, and constrict voting rights from the Black population in this country.
As of March 2023, lawmakers in 46 states have issued more than 650 anti-LGBTQ+ bills, according to the Movement Advancement Project. The NAACP issued a travel advisory for the state of Florida, saying the state is openly hostile to African Americans, people of colour and LGBTQ+ individuals. In June of 2023, the HRC (Human Rights Campaign) declared a state of emergency for LGBTQ+ citizens in the United States. In August of 2023, Canada followed suit, issuing a travel warning for their LGBTQ+ citizens for the entire United States. And in November of 2022, it was revealed that homophobic hate crimes in the UK have more than doubled in five years. In May of 2023, the UN expressed concerns about LGBTQ+ rights in the UK, after the country fell to 17th place in a European league table of queer rights after coming first just eight years ago.
It’s exhausting, but also galvanising. If our ally and neighbour has deemed our entire country unsafe for a section of their citizenry, then this is one more reason why activism is more important now than ever before. I’m so proud that my intersectionality allows me to advocate for a wider range of issues, in an inclusive and far-reaching way.
One of the easiest ways for people to participate and show support for the causes they believe in is through social media. Yes, social media activism can often devolve into clicktivism. It can be what you make of it – you can simply click ‘repost’ and go about your day, or you can truly engage and take your internet activism to the streets. It’s up to you, and I choose to use and view social media as a force for good. But not every action I take is for the ’gram or captured by a camera. I once ran into actress Judith Light in Bryant Park and she said, “What’s the point of having a platform if you’re not going to use it to be of service?” And she’s right. Here comes the very appropriate Hamilton reference – change is often made behind closed doors. I can’t effect change if I’m not in the room where it happens. That’s why I also view serving on the board of a charity or non-profit as an honour, and I sit on a few that are very dear to my heart.
I serve on the Board of Covenant House International, where we oversee all the sites of the federation. We provide shelter and crisis care, long-term support, education and employment opportunities, physical and mental health support and so much more to youth facing homelessness and trafficking. This organisation resonates with me because I learned that a particularly vulnerable group are LGBTQ+ youth, who are 120% more likely to experience housing insecurity than their peers. Hispanic youth are 33% more likely to experience homelessness than white youth and in general, young people who are Black, Hispanic and Indigenous face housing insecurity at higher rates than their peers, largely due to systemic and structural racism.
While I can help fundraise and provide visibility for Covenant House as a board member, I’ve also seen their work up close. Six years ago, I was invited to participate in my first Stage and Screen Sleep Out at the Manhattan Center. I gave up my bed for one night in solidarity with homeless youth and met and heard the stories of these young people and alumni. (This is similar to the UK homelessness charity, Centrepoint, who also stage an annual Sleep Out initiative.) My eyes were opened and my own blessings became very clear to me. Had I not had support or resources when I was first starting out, who knows where my path would’ve taken me.
While it’s unfathomable to me that some people in our society are still attempting to decide who has rights and who doesn’t, that’s the reality. As someone who was dealt a very specific hand in life, I bristle against any construct that attempts to tell me who I can and cannot be, or what I can and cannot do. I can play my cards any way I like, I can chase my dreams, love who I love. This was instilled in me at a young age by my mother, who raised me as a single parent in North Carolina. She enrolled me in dance, she listened to my dreams and she raised me to be authentically me.
Therefore, I will keep showing up to the spaces that it is my privilege to occupy with integrity, kindness and compassion, while playing the cards I’m dealt. If I’m doing my job correctly – and I mean my job on planet earth as a human being – then maybe one day, someone might look at my work, my presence and my encouragement as the reason they took a leap to chase their dreams and their truth. I think changing the game is about making moves that allow others to build on them; it’s the sum of the moves or the arrangement of the cards you’ve been dealt that define you in the end… and my game isn’t over yet.
European editorial director: Deborah Joseph
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