Time's Up
"Unfortunately, I think this is a long road, but it’s an incredible change that’s already happened."
Natalie Portman made headlines when she called out the Hollywood Foreign Press Assn. onstage at the 2018 Golden Globes for nominating an all-male lineup in the best director category. The awards bypassed eligible contenders such as Greta Gerwig and Dee Rees.
Flanked by America Ferrera and social justice activists, Portman also used the show’s red carpet as a platform for protest on behalf of the Time’s Up movement: The carpet was transformed into a sea of black gowns in a show of solidarity with sexual-harassment survivors.
Time’s Up was founded on Jan. 1, just days before the Golden Globes. Nine months later, the anti-sexual harassment group’s legal defense fund has raised more than $22 million and helped more than 34,000 women across a range of professions.
“I had been feeling, of course, very upset about all of the allegations that were coming to light in our own industry and feeling like I wanted to do something, but not knowing what to do,” Portman says. The Oscar winner, who was invited by her agent to participate in the group, joined a slew of A-listers working to prevent workplace harassment, including founding signatories Jennifer Aniston, Shonda Rhimes, Meryl Streep and Reese Witherspoon. Portman describes the first meeting as a collective feeling of women in the industry wanting to turn their anger into positive action. “Many of the people in the room had suffered these kinds of experiences.”
Time’s Up, which advocates for women in all industries — not just entertainment — in the battle against sexual harassment and assault, has been at the forefront of many #MeToo events this past year, including staging a national walkout to support Brett Kavanaugh accuser Christine Blasey Ford and calling on CBS to fire Les Moonves without an exit package after more than a dozen women brought allegations of abuse against the media mogul. “I’m very happy to be part of a movement that’s also shedding light on how widespread this is in every industry and offering this legal defense fund, which is helping women in lower-income professions have legal aid.”
The entertainment industry has endured a seismic shift in the year since the #MeToo movement kicked off, and Portman — who says she has experienced both sexual harassment and pay disparity on her movie sets — believes that Time’s Up is bouncing off the bravery of all survivors who have shared their stories by promoting conversation around workplace equality.
“We need to have a larger conversation about the workplace, and about making the workplace fair, safe and equitable for all people,” she says. “And not just for women but for people of color, for people with disabilities, for people from the LGBTQ-plus community.”
She adds, “Unfortunately, I think this is a long road, but it’s an incredible change that’s already happened.”
— Elizabeth Wagmeister
"Pull Quote Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit"
Natalie Portman made headlines when she called out the Hollywood Foreign Press Assn. onstage at the 2018 Golden Globes for nominating an all-male lineup in the best director category. The awards bypassed eligible contenders such as Greta Gerwig and Dee Rees.
Flanked by America Ferrera and social justice activists, Portman also used the show’s red carpet as a platform for protest on behalf of the Time’s Up movement: The carpet was transformed into a sea of black gowns in a show of solidarity with sexual-harassment survivors.
Time’s Up was founded on Jan. 1, just days before the Golden Globes. Nine months later, the anti-sexual harassment group’s legal defense fund has raised more than $22 million and helped more than 34,000 women across a range of professions.
“I had been feeling, of course, very upset about all of the allegations that were coming to light in our own industry and feeling like I wanted to do something, but not knowing what to do,” Portman says. The Oscar winner, who was invited by her agent to participate in the group, joined a slew of A-listers working to prevent workplace harassment, including founding signatories Jennifer Aniston, Shonda Rhimes, Meryl Streep and Reese Witherspoon. Portman describes the first meeting as a collective feeling of women in the industry wanting to turn their anger into positive action. “Many of the people in the room had suffered these kinds of experiences.”
Time’s Up, which advocates for women in all industries — not just entertainment — in the battle against sexual harassment and assault, has been at the forefront of many #MeToo events this past year, including staging a national walkout to support Brett Kavanaugh accuser Christine Blasey Ford and calling on CBS to fire Les Moonves without an exit package after more than a dozen women brought allegations of abuse against the media mogul. “I’m very happy to be part of a movement that’s also shedding light on how widespread this is in every industry and offering this legal defense fund, which is helping women in lower-income professions have legal aid.”
The entertainment industry has endured a seismic shift in the year since the #MeToo movement kicked off, and Portman — who says she has experienced both sexual harassment and pay disparity on her movie sets — believes that Time’s Up is bouncing off the bravery of all survivors who have shared their stories by promoting conversation around workplace equality.
“We need to have a larger conversation about the workplace, and about making the workplace fair, safe and equitable for all people,” she says. “And not just for women but for people of color, for people with disabilities, for people from the LGBTQ-plus community.”
She adds, “Unfortunately, I think this is a long road, but it’s an incredible change that’s already happened.”
— Elizabeth Wagmeister
The Trevor Project
"I don’t ever want anyone to ever feel like their lives aren’t as valued as anyone else’s."
“Be great.”
When Lena Waithe first heard those two words of advice from writer-director Gina Prince-Bythewood, she admits she didn’t quite get the message. But as she got older, she grew to understand the power in owning her voice. So she’s adapted it into her own mantra: “Be phenomenal.”
“That is what I always strive to do — try to be phenomenal, try to be amazing,” she says. “I don’t want to do it if that’s not what it is. What’s the point? I don’t want to make something that is just OK. I don’t want to make something just for a check. I want to make something that people will always talk about.”
In the year since she made history as the first woman of color to win an Emmy for writing for a comedy series for “Master of None,” she’s put that plan into action on multiple fronts. She inked a first-look deal with Showtime and lined up a jam-packed slate of projects across TV, film and digital. Which means she’s now writing “Boomerang” for BET, casting “Queen and Slim” with director Melina Matsoukas, developing “Them” for Amazon, shooting the pilot for TBS’ “Twenties” and overseeing the second season of “The Chi” for Showtime. And then there are a few acting gigs, just for kicks.
“I started to get a lot of freedom post-Emmy, and it’s something I don’t take for granted,” Waithe says. “I’ve been very mindful of that privilege, and making sure that I’m doing the best writing I can be doing so that privilege isn’t taken away. I think once next year comes, people will get a better sense of who I am, not just as an artist, as a writer, but who I am as a human, and the kind of work I’m going to put out into the world.”
That work includes shining a spotlight on The Trevor Project, the nonprofit focused on suicide prevention among LGBTQ youth.
“They’re doing God’s work,” she says plainly of the charity that honored her at its gala in June. “They’re literally saving lives. How many people can you say go to work and it’s their job to tell someone, ‘You’re beautiful, you’re amazing, the world needs you, don’t take yourself away from the world’?”
Raising funds to help pay for the counselors has become a passion project. “We still are looked down upon because of how we are born,” she says. “And I don’t ever want anyone to ever feel like their lives aren’t as valued as anyone else’s.”
So for Waithe, being phenomenal also means using her newfound visibility to redefine power in Hollywood amid the sea change that’s roiled the industry: “The powerful are not just white straight men anymore,” she says. “They are a black tattooed gay girl from South Chicago.”
- Debra Birnbaum
"Pull Quote Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit"
“Be great.”
When Lena Waithe first heard those two words of advice from writer-director Gina Prince-Bythewood, she admits she didn’t quite get the message. But as she got older, she grew to understand the power in owning her voice. So she’s adapted it into her own mantra: “Be phenomenal.”
“That is what I always strive to do — try to be phenomenal, try to be amazing,” she says. “I don’t want to do it if that’s not what it is. What’s the point? I don’t want to make something that is just OK. I don’t want to make something just for a check. I want to make something that people will always talk about.”
In the year since she made history as the first woman of color to win an Emmy for writing for a comedy series for “Master of None,” she’s put that plan into action on multiple fronts. She inked a first-look deal with Showtime and lined up a jam-packed slate of projects across TV, film and digital. Which means she’s now writing “Boomerang” for BET, casting “Queen and Slim” with director Melina Matsoukas, developing “Them” for Amazon, shooting the pilot for TBS’ “Twenties” and overseeing the second season of “The Chi” for Showtime. And then there are a few acting gigs, just for kicks.
“I started to get a lot of freedom post-Emmy, and it’s something I don’t take for granted,” Waithe says. “I’ve been very mindful of that privilege, and making sure that I’m doing the best writing I can be doing so that privilege isn’t taken away. I think once next year comes, people will get a better sense of who I am, not just as an artist, as a writer, but who I am as a human, and the kind of work I’m going to put out into the world.”
That work includes shining a spotlight on The Trevor Project, the nonprofit focused on suicide prevention among LGBTQ youth.
“They’re doing God’s work,” she says plainly of the charity that honored her at its gala in June. “They’re literally saving lives. How many people can you say go to work and it’s their job to tell someone, ‘You’re beautiful, you’re amazing, the world needs you, don’t take yourself away from the world’?”
Raising funds to help pay for the counselors has become a passion project. “We still are looked down upon because of how we are born,” she says. “And I don’t ever want anyone to ever feel like their lives aren’t as valued as anyone else’s.”
So for Waithe, being phenomenal also means using her newfound visibility to redefine power in Hollywood amid the sea change that’s roiled the industry: “The powerful are not just white straight men anymore,” she says. “They are a black tattooed gay girl from South Chicago.”
- Debra Birnbaum
March for Our Lives
"We’re not trying to take guns out of society. We’re trying to regulate them."
It is fitting that Emma González wears a leather choker with a Joan of Arc medallion. It was given to her by Father Edwin Leahy, headmaster of St. Benedict’s Prep in Newark, N.J., where she spoke with students in May about their experiences in a community that’s been ravaged by gun violence. Her visit came just three months after 17 students and teachers were gunned down at her own high school in Parkland, Fla.
When González was a child, her mother gave her a toy horse with a detachable Joan of Arc perched on its back. “My mom always told me that she was an inspirational French warrior who at a very young age was fighting for what she believed in,” says González. “I just loved the concept of a woman warrior on horseback with a flag.”
González’s mother could not have possibly anticipated that years later her daughter would earn her warrior stripes. But at age 18, after living through one of the worst mass shootings in American history, González became a fierce fighter in her own right.
Shortly after tragedy struck at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School on Feb. 14, González and her fellow students established March for Our Lives, a nonprofit organization that advocates for gun reform laws and voter registration.
On March 24, González took the stage in Washington, D.C., for the first of many March for Our Lives rallies across the country, and read off the names of the victims killed at her school. She then fell silent for 6 minutes and 20 seconds — the amount of time it took for the lone shooter to complete his murderous rampage. Her nationally televised speech went viral; she became an instant hero.
Harnessing sorrow and rage into activism, the Parkland survivors galvanized a movement, giving voice to a young generation that could help shape culture and history.
This past summer, more than three dozen students, including 14 from Parkland, went on a nationwide bus tour dubbed Road to Change. They made more than 100 stops across multiple states, pushing for gun legislation and registering people to vote in the November midterms. Since Parkland, more than 50 guns laws have been passed and more than 10,000 voters registered.
González dismisses the notion that she and her fellow activists are anti-Second Amendment: “We’re not trying to take guns out of society. We’re trying to regulate them … make it mandatory for people to lock up their guns.”
While González will always be an activist, she has no designs on pursuing a life in politics. When asked where she sees herself in 10 years, she says, “Hopefully, finishing college!”
— Claudia Eller
"Pull Quote Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit"
It is fitting that Emma González wears a leather choker with a Joan of Arc medallion. It was given to her by Father Edwin Leahy, headmaster of St. Benedict’s Prep in Newark, N.J., where she spoke with students in May about their experiences in a community that’s been ravaged by gun violence. Her visit came just three months after 17 students and teachers were gunned down at her own high school in Parkland, Fla.
When González was a child, her mother gave her a toy horse with a detachable Joan of Arc perched on its back. “My mom always told me that she was an inspirational French warrior who at a very young age was fighting for what she believed in,” says González. “I just loved the concept of a woman warrior on horseback with a flag.”
González’s mother could not have possibly anticipated that years later her daughter would earn her warrior stripes. But at age 18, after living through one of the worst mass shootings in American history, González became a fierce fighter in her own right.
Shortly after tragedy struck at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School on Feb. 14, González and her fellow students established March for Our Lives, a nonprofit organization that advocates for gun reform laws and voter registration.
On March 24, González took the stage in Washington, D.C., for the first of many March for Our Lives rallies across the country, and read off the names of the victims killed at her school. She then fell silent for 6 minutes and 20 seconds — the amount of time it took for the lone shooter to complete his murderous rampage. Her nationally televised speech went viral; she became an instant hero.
Harnessing sorrow and rage into activism, the Parkland survivors galvanized a movement, giving voice to a young generation that could help shape culture and history.
This past summer, more than three dozen students, including 14 from Parkland, went on a nationwide bus tour dubbed Road to Change. They made more than 100 stops across multiple states, pushing for gun legislation and registering people to vote in the November midterms. Since Parkland, more than 50 guns laws have been passed and more than 10,000 voters registered.
González dismisses the notion that she and her fellow activists are anti-Second Amendment: “We’re not trying to take guns out of society. We’re trying to regulate them … make it mandatory for people to lock up their guns.”
While González will always be an activist, she has no designs on pursuing a life in politics. When asked where she sees herself in 10 years, she says, “Hopefully, finishing college!”
— Claudia Eller
Unusual Suspects Theatre
"know your worth, and don’t settle for less."
Tiffany Haddish’s meteoric rise, which started last year with the runaway hit “Girls Trip,” hit another high when she won the Emmy Award for guest hosting “Saturday Night Live,” celebrating her turn as the first black female comedian to command that storied comedy stage.
But asked what the trophy means to her, Haddish says, “Can I be honest? Not that much! Because I didn’t get a check with it.”
It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate the honor — as her friend Jada Pinkett Smith explained to her, it’s a sign of respect from her colleagues. But Haddish has far more practical priorities.
“I care about being able to take care of my grandma, my mama, my niece, my sister, and brother, and if I ever have children, take care of them, create some generational wealth,” she says. “The only way to do that is to have some money so you can buy some land. I need checks!”
Haddish has long been frank about her struggles, including “being homeless and hungry” in her 20s. What she learned from that experience is to “know your worth, and don’t settle for less,” she says.
That’s a message she wants to pass along to the next generation, particularly girls. She visits elementary schools regularly, and can’t help noting that while boys are praised for their accomplishments, girls are told to “sit down, be quiet, be pretty.” “F--- that! You are smart! You’re dope. You deserve the best!” she says. “That kind of language needs to be happening more, especially for young women.”
That’s why she works with Unusual Suspects Theatre, which offers workshops to students and adults in underserved high schools and communities. Introduced to the program by an executive at Universal, Haddish immediately was hooked on its potential. “This needs to be everywhere,” she says. “Because a lot of schools are cutting out drama and things where you learn to have a voice.”
Along with money, she’s donated ample time to the organization, leading rehearsals and mentoring the kids. Given her own difficult upbringing, such a program “would have meant the world to me,” she says. “I definitely would not have been in as much trouble as I was in in school. It teaches you when to do something — and when not to.”
It’s that hard-won confidence that fuels her career goals. “I just know I’m doing what I love to do,” she says. “That’s where my comedy comes from: I believe in who I am.” There may be some setbacks along the way (“Sometimes you just gotta bump your head,” she jokes, “get a few concussions”), but she’s got her eye on the prize. “I want to own a studio, because then I could create what I want and I can create a platform where others can come and create what they want,” she says. “Because for so many years I’ve been told, ‘No, you can’t do this. No, we don’t want that.’ Well, fine. I’ll do it on my own.”
— Debra Birnbaum
"Pull Quote Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit"
Tiffany Haddish’s meteoric rise, which started last year with the runaway hit “Girls Trip,” hit another high when she won the Emmy Award for guest hosting “Saturday Night Live,” celebrating her turn as the first black female comedian to command that storied comedy stage.
But asked what the trophy means to her, Haddish says, “Can I be honest? Not that much! Because I didn’t get a check with it.”
It’s not that she doesn’t appreciate the honor — as her friend Jada Pinkett Smith explained to her, it’s a sign of respect from her colleagues. But Haddish has far more practical priorities.
“I care about being able to take care of my grandma, my mama, my niece, my sister, and brother, and if I ever have children, take care of them, create some generational wealth,” she says. “The only way to do that is to have some money so you can buy some land. I need checks!”
Haddish has long been frank about her struggles, including “being homeless and hungry” in her 20s. What she learned from that experience is to “know your worth, and don’t settle for less,” she says.
That’s a message she wants to pass along to the next generation, particularly girls. She visits elementary schools regularly, and can’t help noting that while boys are praised for their accomplishments, girls are told to “sit down, be quiet, be pretty.” “F—-- that! You are smart! You’re dope. You deserve the best!” she says. “That kind of language needs to be happening more, especially for young women.”
That’s why she works with Unusual Suspects Theatre, which offers workshops to students and adults in underserved high schools and communities. Introduced to the program by an executive at Universal, Haddish immediately was hooked on its potential. “This needs to be everywhere,” she says. “Because a lot of schools are cutting out drama and things where you learn to have a voice.”
Along with money, she’s donated ample time to the organization, leading rehearsals and mentoring the kids. Given her own difficult upbringing, such a program “would have meant the world to me,” she says. “I definitely would not have been in as much trouble as I was in in school. It teaches you when to do something — and when not to.”
It’s that hard-won confidence that fuels her career goals. “I just know I’m doing what I love to do,” she says. “That’s where my comedy comes from: I believe in who I am.” There may be some setbacks along the way (“Sometimes you just gotta bump your head,” she jokes, “get a few concussions”), but she’s got her eye on the prize. “I want to own a studio, because then I could create what I want and I can create a platform where others can come and create what they want,” she says. “Because for so many years I’ve been told, ‘No, you can’t do this. No, we don’t want that.’ Well, fine. I’ll do it on my own.”
— Debra Birnbaum
"I Have a Dream" Foundation
"If you believe in the future, it starts with fertilizing those babies, those seeds."
Long before she was an actress, Regina King dreamed of becoming a dentist.
“I’m all about the smile,” she says. “When I was a little girl, I used to try to not show my gums, but I love my smile now. If I’m happy, I’m happy; I can’t help it. I’ve got a big old smile.”
King has ample reason to grin these days, from claiming her third Emmy trophy last month to the boisterous reaction from the crowd in the Microsoft Theater (“I realized my family was much bigger than what I thought seven minutes before,” she says) to her forceful role in Barry Jenkins’ “If Beale Street Could Talk,” which is generating awards buzz (“I did not realize how much we as a people — and I’m not saying as a black people; I’m saying as a human people — need a film like this”). Alongside a slate that’s overbooked with directing gigs — she’s become a go-to helmer for hits like “This Is Us” and “Insecure” — and her production deal with ABC Studios, she’s ecstatic about getting to play a superhero in Damon Lindelof’s “Watchmen,” which was just picked up to series at HBO. “I have the opportunity to do things I don’t think anyone has ever seen me do as an actress,” she says. (Translation: She gets to “kick ass.”)
“You’re never supposed to stop dreaming,” she says. “Right now, I’m an actress, producer, director, not always in that order, but we’ll sit down five years from now and my title might have another hyphen in it.”
Given King’s sheer force of will, the odds couldn’t be more clearly in her favor. It’s been more than 30 years since she made her Hollywood debut on the NBC sitcom “227,” and she’s barely stopped working since. “I learned how to be a professional and the importance of positive self-representation at a very early age,” she says.
That’s why she’s made it a priority to work with the “I Have a Dream” Foundation, which provides academic and financial aid to help children from low-income communities pursue higher education.
“I am doing what God meant for us all to do,” says King, whose efforts include serving as a public advocate for the charity and also actively fundraising. “You have to put your money where your mouth is. If you believe in the future, it starts with fertilizing those babies, those seeds.”
She proudly traces her commitment to philanthropy through her family tree: She recently starred in an episode of “Who Do You Think You Are?” and learned that her great-great-great-grandfather was a preacher who dedicated his life to teaching uneducated black men and women. It’s a lesson she hopes to pass along to her son.
“I’m a big person about energy: The energy you put out, that’s what comes back,” she says. “Be the change you wish to see.”
— Debra Birnbaum
"Pull Quote Lorem ipsum dolor sit amet, consectetur adipiscing elit"
Long before she was an actress, Regina King dreamed of becoming a dentist.
“I’m all about the smile,” she says. “When I was a little girl, I used to try to not show my gums, but I love my smile now. If I’m happy, I’m happy; I can’t help it. I’ve got a big old smile.”
King has ample reason to grin these days, from claiming her third Emmy trophy last month to the boisterous reaction from the crowd in the Microsoft Theater (“I realized my family was much bigger than what I thought seven minutes before,” she says) to her forceful role in Barry Jenkins’ “If Beale Street Could Talk,” which is generating awards buzz (“I did not realize how much we as a people — and I’m not saying as a black people; I’m saying as a human people — need a film like this”). Alongside a slate that’s overbooked with directing gigs — she’s become a go-to helmer for hits like “This Is Us” and “Insecure” — and her production deal with ABC Studios, she’s ecstatic about getting to play a superhero in Damon Lindelof’s “Watchmen,” which was just picked up to series at HBO. “I have the opportunity to do things I don’t think anyone has ever seen me do as an actress,” she says. (Translation: She gets to “kick ass.”)
“You’re never supposed to stop dreaming,” she says. “Right now, I’m an actress, producer, director, not always in that order, but we’ll sit down five years from now and my title might have another hyphen in it.”
Given King’s sheer force of will, the odds couldn’t be more clearly in her favor. It’s been more than 30 years since she made her Hollywood debut on the NBC sitcom “227,” and she’s barely stopped working since. “I learned how to be a professional and the importance of positive self-representation at a very early age,” she says.
That’s why she’s made it a priority to work with the “I Have a Dream” Foundation, which provides academic and financial aid to help children from low-income communities pursue higher education.
“I am doing what God meant for us all to do,” says King, whose efforts include serving as a public advocate for the charity and also actively fundraising. “You have to put your money where your mouth is. If you believe in the future, it starts with fertilizing those babies, those seeds.”
She proudly traces her commitment to philanthropy through her family tree: She recently starred in an episode of “Who Do You Think You Are?” and learned that her great-great-great-grandfather was a preacher who dedicated his life to teaching uneducated black men and women. It’s a lesson she hopes to pass along to her son.
“I’m a big person about energy: The energy you put out, that’s what comes back,” she says. “Be the change you wish to see.”
— Debra Birnbaum
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