James Patterson

The Architecture of Authentic Connection Relationships often crumble under the weight of professional competition, yet Julius Tennon and Viola Davis provide a blueprint for a partnership built on a bedrock of radical security. When they met on the set of City of Angels in 1999, they weren't the powerhouses the world knows today. They were two working actors passing medical props and navigating the precarious nature of the industry. The longevity of their bond—nearly three decades—stems from a refusal to let external success dictate internal value. Julius emphasizes that for a partnership to thrive when one person’s career accelerates, the other must possess an unshakeable sense of self. This isn't about arrogance; it's about being "wired right." He notes that his wife remains the same woman he met decades ago, largely because their home life is insulated from the vanity of Hollywood. They view their craft as what they do, not who they are. This distinction allows them to celebrate each other's wins without the poison of envy. By the time they collaborated on The Woman King, their mutual support had evolved into a shared mission to tell stories that the industry historically ignored. This level of safety creates a space where one can admit to having a credit score of 500 or feeling "uncool" as a parent, knowing the response will be grace rather than judgment. The Spirit of Excellence vs. The Ego of Presence Ambition is frequently misunderstood as a thirst for fame, but Viola Davis redefines it as a "spirit of excellence." There is a profound difference between a person who mistakes their presence for the event and someone who is dedicated to the grueling work of the craft. High-level performance requires a willingness to engage in the mundane, repetitive tasks that the public never sees—the hours spent with a pencil in the mouth to perfect diction at Juilliard or the 10,000 hours logged in regional theaters from Massachusetts to Minnesota. Viola observes this spirit in the younger generation as well, citing Timothée Chalamet as an example of an actor who is openly ambitious in the right way. It is the desire to get the best out of oneself and others, rather than merely being seen. This dedication to excellence is what leads to the rare EGOT status. However, even at the highest levels of achievement, the work remains grounded in humanity. Viola recalls a moment on the set of Doubt where even Meryl Streep forgot her lines. It serves as a reminder that perfection is not the goal; truth is. When actors stop being led by insecurity, they can finally offer something real to the audience. Challenging the Male Gaze and Reclaiming the Body For much of her career, the industry attempted to filter Viola’s presence through a lens of male desirability. She speaks candidly about the pressure to be "soft" or "sexy" in roles where it makes zero narrative sense. In the production of The Woman King, this tension became literal. While she was training five hours a day to portray a battle-hardened warrior, notes from the periphery suggested looser curls, eyelash extensions, and less dirt. This persistent need to water down female power is a symptom of a culture that values beauty as a woman’s primary currency. Viola’s experience training for the role of Nanisca at age 56 became a transformative reclamation of her physical self. It was the first time she felt fully "in her body" on screen, despite having her stomach exposed and her stretch marks visible. She argues that female beauty is too often tied to shrinking—being thin, being quiet, being non-threatening. Reclaiming the body means focusing on what it is capable of doing rather than how it looks to others. By refusing to hide her age or her physical reality, she holds space for "regular people" who don't fit the airbrushed mold. This shift from performative beauty to functional strength is a revolutionary act for women in their 50s and 60s. The Power of Plain Spokenness and Roots Growth often involves looking back at one’s origin to identify the gifts hidden within the pain. Growing up in Rhode Island, Viola was shaped by a specific East Coast directness and a family that was "plain spoken." This lack of pretension is a hallmark of her work and her personality. While her training attempted to kill her accent, she eventually realized that those roots provided a grounding that no conservatory could provide. She draws a straight line from her upbringing to the work of August Wilson. His plays resonated because they captured the cadences of her mother and father. Unlike the works of George Bernard Shaw or William Shakespeare, which sometimes felt distant or "boring" during her student years, Wilson’s writing invited her in. It allowed her to be a deep-voiced, self-possessed Black woman without having to translate herself for a white audience. This connection to the truth of her past is what makes her performances in Fences and Ma Rainey's Black Bottom so visceral. She isn't just acting; she is honoring the people she knew. Actionable Practices for Self-Discovery To move toward the kind of self-possession Viola and Julius display, one must engage in specific practices of self-reflection and boundary-setting. **1. Identify Your 'Spirit of Excellence':** Determine which area of your life deserves your highest level of craft. Focus on the process, not the praise. Like the hours spent memorizing lines, what are the repetitive tasks you are willing to do when no one is watching? **2. Negotiate Your Silence:** Viola mentions "negotiating" what she says to avoid stepping on toes while remaining truthful. Practice the pause. Before reacting, ask yourself if your response is coming from a place of ego or a place of purpose. **3. Build Your 'Home Country':** Treat your primary relationship like a sovereign nation with its own rules. Protect it from the expectations of the outside world. Find a partner who, like Julius, celebrates your wins as their own. **4. Reclaim Your Currency:** Shift your focus from external beauty to internal capability. Ask yourself: "What is my body capable of today?" instead of "How does my body look today?" Mindset Shift: The Definition of Hell Entering one’s 60s is often framed as a period of decline, but Viola suggests it is actually the moment your life truly becomes yours. She shares a haunting definition of hell: the day you die, the person you became meets the person you *could* have become. This realization creates a necessary bravery. It strips away the need to be pretty enough, thin enough, or smart enough for others. The 60s represent the "clean" part of life, where the only things that matter are who you love, who loves you, and what you leave behind. This mindset shift allows you to stop playing a character in someone else’s story and finally take the lead in your own. It is about becoming that woman you were always meant to be, free from the shame of the past and the anxieties of the future. Concluding Empowerment You have the power to redefine your own narrative at any age. Whether you are jumping out of a plane at 57 to prove something to yourself or finally telling the truth about your struggles, every act of bravery brings you closer to your authentic self. The world will try to water you down, to filter your power, and to make you feel small. Resist those efforts with the same ferocity as a Goji warrior. Your life is not a performance for the male gaze or a quest for social credit. It is a search for the truth, a commitment to excellence, and a journey toward a home where you are fully seen and celebrated. Stand in your power, speak your truth, and remember: the best version of yourself is still waiting to be met.