This Is Just My Face: Try Not to Stare

Jill Kaplan is my manager and friend, and she has never let me be complacent about one thing. She has helped to usher me around all of the different facets of my career and of who I am as a person. From film actor to TV actor to writer to director. Even when I’m not convinced I’m smart enough to do any of these things, she always keeps me moving in directions I’d never think of just by saying, “But, Gab . . . why not you? You can do that.” We can do that. Thank you, Jill.

Kathy Najimy. Thank you. You gave me the space and opportunity to write anything that I wanted. ANYTHING! I wrote an eight-page essay about cookies for you that somehow turned into a book. An entire gotdamned book! How did this happen? Forever, you’ll either be mistaken for a nun or a witch, and I will forever be convinced of your power, as clearly you are both!

Though I suspect none of them will ever read this book as they already know these stories, I have to thank my parents and my older brother. Not just because I talk lots of shit about them but because I respect and love them. Writing about them has helped me to see them as they actually are. Human. There were times I didn’t want to write about my mom because I’d be pissed with her about one thing or another so I would put off a certain story for weeks. Sometimes months. But when I started to write, I’d always somehow end up on the subject of her. I’d have no choice but to see her sacrifices, her pain, and her glory. My story wouldn’t be if not for her story, and I couldn’t ignore that. The same could be said for my father, who I’ve been mad at since childhood. I had to write this story and part of his story to see his humanity and get relief from my anger. I didn’t even know that this was something I wanted, but I’m glad I have it. He is just a person. I know that now. I forgive both of my parents for not being the superheroes I was convinced they were. My brother Ahmed, who survived my childhood right along with me, has been a shining example of what your heart can be if you choose love over anger. I’m glad he did that even if I couldn’t figure out how to do it for myself.

Thank you to my friends, my chosen family who read portions of my book earlier than anyone else. You all let me read unfinished chapters to you that revealed more about me than I was ready to tell. You patiently listened and gave me notes and asked me if I was sure I was ready to tell that story or this truth. You’re all so wonderful, and I appreciate you all so much, and every time you wanted to hang out and I said I was writing, I was lying. I just wanted to stay home and watch Martin reruns and eat Funyuns in my underwear. But you’ll forgive me for my lies because you’re the best people in the world. Thank you also for getting me out of the house when I was actually writing and needed a mental break. There were plenty of late-night trips to Burger King or Portillo’s, dance breaks, movie nights, and talks over tea that saved me from drowning in the word soup of my brain. JohnGray, Cass, Danie, Dana, Kia, Jussie, thank you for all of your love.

Thank you to Gbenga Akinnagbe and his beautiful ENITAN furniture for lending me a gorgeous couch for my book’s photo shoot. I really felt like a boss when that couch showed up!

Lastly, a shout-out to my therapist. Get dat money, gurl.

Gabourey Sidibe's books