Condola Rashad is a seeker.
Since her first, award-winning performance in the off-Broadway play "Ruined," the actress has taken on parts that force us to ask the questions that define our lives — questions that often don’t have easy answers. In Lucas Hnath's "A Doll’s House, Part 2," which earned her a Tony nomination, Rashad played Emmy, the abandoned and marriage-bound daughter of Nora (Laurie Metcalf), who gave up her husband and children for freedom in Henrik Ibsen’s "A Doll’s House." In Netflix’s "Come Sunday," out April 13, Rashad stars as the free-thinking wife of a Pentecostal preacher (Chiwetel Ejiofor), who begins to question his faith in the church’s doctrine.
But it is her latest roles — her first true leads — that are expansive enough to finally allow Rashad to interrogate the pieces of our present and past we'd rather not talk about; and to show off her fearless acting chops. "Bikini Moon," which made its U.S. debut in March at the Cinequest Film Festival, follows Rashad as the captivating Bikini Moon Davis, a mentally ill veteran who becomes the (not necessarily compliant) subject of a documentary helmed by two white filmmakers. Last week, Rashad also began previews as Joan of Arc in the Broadway revival of George Bernard Shaw’s "Saint Joan," which recounts a less black-and-white version of the famed saint, and opens April 25.
For Rashad, storytelling is a way to learn about and connect with ourselves, each other, and divine truths; to reckon with history; and to get comfortable with the fact that few things in life are as clear-cut as we’d like them to be. She spoke with Shondaland.com about her recent and upcoming performances, how storytelling can encourage compassion and justice, and reclaiming black girl magic.
What drew you to the role of Bikini Moon?
I felt that I would have a lot of freedom [to] build this character from the ground up. There’s so much to her that sounded like a great challenge. Another thing was, I became very compassionate for the character even before I started working on [the film]. Bikini says things that, if you don’t look into it, you just go, "Oh, she’s nuts." I feel like some people would just walk in the audition room and go, "Well, she’s kinda nuts," and just play [that]. But that’s not the heart of it. I think the real challenge of it is — and this is where I felt compassion for people who have this experience — what is the experience like when your mind and your view of the world is one way, and everybody else sees it another way? When [Bikini] speaks about certain things or makes certain references, it may seem like they don’t make any sense. But to her, they make sense. There’s a reason why she says everything she’s saying; it’s just people don’t see it from her perspective.
That speaks to one of the themes the film explores, which is compassion. Kate, the filmmaker played by Sarah Goldberg, thinks of herself as an ally or friend to Bikini — that she’s "helping" her — but is it real compassion? It seems she’s kind of pitying and profiting off of Bikini and her story, and she doesn’t realize it or think there’s anything wrong with it.
Yes, she’s gotten it into her head that she is helping. I have a few friends that are that character [laughs]. I love them dearly, [but] I can see where there is a level of guilt, and it’s misplaced. You don’t know what to do with [that guilt], and the only way you know how to deal with [it] is to reach out in ways that might [be uninvited]. There’s compassion that I have for [that]. I’m really glad we had the actress we had, because [she] could’ve been portrayed by someone who played [it] so you don’t like that character. I think it’s important that she was played in a way where you almost feel like, oh, maybe she really means well. It becomes a more complex story because of that. In this moment [in our society], it’s like, either you’re on this side and you’re good, or you’re on that side and you’re bad. And unfortunately, that’s not really working for us. How do we have compassion for someone that is unlike us, and how do we meet them where they are, while also leaving room for them to meet us where we are?
How do we have compassion for someone that is unlike us?
It seems like a lot of your roles ask those big questions. What draws you to projects that involve questioning, whether it’s questioning what we’re taught, or what we’re told, or the systems we’re a part of?
Look, I’m a Sagittarius [laughs], we like information and we like to learn new things. I’m about expansion. A lot of moments of growth came to me because of questions that came up — not because somebody told me that I should do this or think this way, but [because] a question was posed. And by me having to try and contemplate that question, that’s what led me to a new place of growth, because I was able to find it for myself.
One thing that surprised me about the film were its fantastical elements — it’s billed as a "modern-day fairytale." It had its U.S. debut just after "Black Panther" and before "A Wrinkle in Time," so you had multiple sci-fi and fantasy films with black leads getting attention in a way that was unprecedented. What do you think that says about where we’re headed, and how perceptions might be shifting around who these kinds of films are for?
This is my childhood dream, what’s happening with "Black Panther" and "A Wrinkle in Time," and in "Bikini" as well. Growing up, I was a fantasy fiction geek. That is what nurtured my imagination. When you have a nurtured imagination, it does help you in your own walk of life, because you can imagine great things for yourself. When I was growing up, I’d see a lot of fantasy films and I didn’t see a lot of people [who] looked like me. I was fortunate enough — it’s the way that my mother raised me — [that] I never felt less than anybody growing up. So I remember feeling like, "I don’t see anybody like me, but that’s OK, I’m still gonna watch it, [and] one day there’s gonna be people like me in these things."
As a kid, you know you have magic in you. That’s important.
When I would talk to a lot of other children my age who were black as well, sometimes I remember feeling this general air of, "Oh, you’re into all of that fantasy stuff," and the vibe that I got was those stories are not for us. That always made me so sad. Why not? Why not have magic? We all come from many different cultures, but if we’re gonna trace it all the way back, there’s a lot of magic, there’s a lot of mysticism, there’s a lot of things that are part of our history. I feel this strongly as a black American. I’ve done my ancestry DNA so I know where and what countries in Africa that my ancestors came from, but because of slavery, I do feel that culturally, there’s a disconnect. I feel like [we’ve lost] a sense of our own magic. What a pity. Why [is it that] other cultures can have all of these magical stories and we’re not allowed to have them?
"Black Panther" served me my life. I was living my full fantasy life, and I was just like, "Yes, yes, yes." Because now there’s a young child out there who can look at that and say, "I’m a superhero, I can be a superhero." As a kid, you know you have magic in you. That’s important.
Speaking of imagining yourself as a superhero — playing Joan of Arc in "Saint Joan" on Broadway is big deal. Why you were drawn to the role and what do you hope to accomplish with it?
I thought I knew about Joan of Arc, so automatically I go, "Wow, I’m in, fantastic." I know that ["Saint Joan" is] one of the most challenging plays to do — you say the word challenging and I’m on board. But it wasn’t until I actually did my research… The way that I have prepared for this is I literally holed myself up in my apartment and sat there and studied as if I was studying to pass an exam. From what I learned, I was blown away. You say Joan of Arc, [people are] like, "Yeah yeah, the woman who went to battle and was burned at the stake." [But the] entire trial is there. You can read what she said. We have her words. I think a lot of what people think they know is that Joan of Arc is this legend. She was legendary, but she wasn’t a legend. [She was a real person, and] there are certain [parts of her story] that are not myths. I think that’s a very uncomfortable thing for a lot of people. Some things, as a society, we just don’t deal with. Instead of looking at it, we just treat it as if it’s legend [rather than documented history] because that’s easier for everybody to digest.
I came to love Joan. I don’t belong to any religion, but as a spiritual human being, I respect anybody that has a genuine love of the divine, no matter what your culture, no matter what your religion. [Another] moving thing is this is a woman who, in spite of everything, did not ask for permission from any man or any institutions to have a connection to the divine and a connection to herself. The idea that every human being, no matter where you come from, who you are — you have a right, if you so choose, to find your connection to the divine energy. You don’t need anybody’s permission. That is one of the most heartwarming, encouraging, and hopeful stories that I could possibly tell.
