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Two-time Oscar winner, Denzel Washington, sat down with GQ magazine in a candid interview to discuss his relationship with his estranged father, his position on politics, and his recommendation to African American (males primarily) who read GQ. At the time of the interview, the actor was in New Orleans filming a 42-second movie titled “2 Guns” with Mark Wahlberg. At 57-years-old, the actor is still one of the most respected and sought-after actors in Hollywood. Excerpts from the interview are below.
Do you have any code you live by? I read from the Bible every day, and I read my Daily Word. I read something great yesterday. It said, “Don’t aspire to make a living. Aspire to make a difference.” In some ways, you’re a cipher. There’s not much you put out there. But that’s not my job to put stuff out there. Sidney Poitier told me this years ago: “If they see you for free all week, they won’t pay to see you on the weekend, because they feel like they’ve seen you. If you walk by the magazine section in the supermarket and they’ve known you all their life, there’s no mystery. They can’t take the ride.” My professional work is being a better actor. I don’t know how to be a celebrity. So if they want to see you that way— I’ve got my own things that I will and won’t do, but it’s not because I “carry the weight of the African-American something” or whatever. I can’t. I’m an actor. First of all, I don’t take myself that seriously. I take what I do seriously, and I try to do a good job. When the Denzel biopic is made, what would an actor need to have in his performance to make you say, “He got me”? That suggests I know what it is, and I don’t want to know what it is. That’s part of the mystery. It is what it is. I don’t go, “I gotta make sure I put some of that Denzel Washington-ism in the movie.” I don’t want tricks. I don’t want to lose my mojo. When you were playing Malcolm X, you said one of the things that helped you “get” Malcolm was noticing that he was always pointing. That was one of the keys. It wasn’t the key. He does a lot of that. And he didn’t say “against,” he said, “a-ginst.” So I started throwing in extra “a-ginst”s, because it made me feel like I was in rhythm. Your father was a Pentecostal preacher. Yes. I went every Sunday as a kid, so I can relate to the people who don’t like it because there was a time when it was a job. We all go through our rebellion. I read somewhere that you said you once felt yourself being filled with the Holy Spirit. That was thirty years ago, at the church I still attend. The minister was preaching, “Just let it go.” I said, “I’m going to go with it.” And I had this tremendous physical and spiritual experience. It did frighten me. I was slobbering, crying, sweating. My cheeks blew up. I was purging. It was too intense. It almost drove me away. I called my mother, and she said I was being filled with the Holy Spirit. I was like, “Does that mean I can never have wine again?” Was it hard being the son of a preacher? As a child, no. He wasn’t a taskmaster, but there were certain things you couldn’t do. He had his own church, and it was a long Sunday, because you had to be there all day. Why did your parents divorce? You’d have to ask one of them. Why do people separate? They never told you…. We didn’t have a sit-down. They’re a different generation. I didn’t ask—you just assumed. For lack of love, or whatever their reason. I never asked. What else would I want to know? I didn’t see it coming. But I wasn’t looking. I was 14. And then you were estranged from your father for a bit? I was away in private school. And my mother came and said, “Go get your keys, we don’t live in our house no more.” So between 14 and 18, I lived with her until it got to be too much to handle. [laughs] Then I lived with him. And he k****d me out. He said, “You’re just bad.” Then what? It all kind of came together around the time that I started acting at Fordham. I was 20 and had a 1.8 GPA, and they were going to throw me out. So I took a semester off. And I remember standing in front of the army recruiting office like, “I don’t want to go in the army.” I started acting because I had done a lot of work with kids. I was at a YMCA camp. And we did a talent show for the kids. And this guy said, “You looked like a natural up there.” So I said, “Let me try to act.” That was September of ’75. And my senior year, ’76, I got an apartment on 310 or 312 West 93rd. Just roaches everywhere. Your father died as you were working on Malcolm X. I was flying to New York to meet with Spike, and when we landed my brother was there. The first thing I thought was Mom died. And he said, “Dad had a stroke.” That was April of ’91, and he died in August. We started shooting around the time that he died. [pauses] I never shed a tear for my father. That sounds like a book or a song. I never did all through the funeral and all that. There was no connection. Were you angry with your father when your parents split? First of all, he worked two or three jobs. So I didn’t see him that much. Uh, the things I did, like sports and things, he wasn’t really… I guess being a spiritual man, or just because he had to work so much, I didn’t see him. My mother didn’t see me, either—the things I did, the sports and that. Because they were working. It wasn’t like it’s been for our children, where you take them to all their events. It was a different time. Once they were separated, I was in school. So 70 percent of the year, I was away. In the summer, I wasn’t looking to track him down. I was ready to hit the streets. So you just kind of fade…. Not to say that I didn’t love him like a dad. But we didn’t play ball, those types of things. Next thing you know, you’re at college. Did he disappoint you? I didn’t think of it that way. Everyone I grew up with didn’t have a father. I had a father. My father was a decent man. He was a very spiritual man and a gentleman. What do you see of your father in you? I’m more like my mother. She is the toughest woman. She’s 88. Did you bring any of your father into Malcolm X? Absolutely. Preaching is preaching, be it Malcolm X or… I don’t want to generalize and say “the black church,” but there’s a certain style. And growing up with that, I understood it. Same could be said just for the fact that my mama owned a beauty shop. There was great drama in there. [laughs] I remember certain cadences in the way my father would set up certain things. And when I would hear Malcolm X, I would say, Oh, he sets it up the same way. It’s a rhythm. It’s almost music. What did you feel when Whitney died? Whitney was my girl, and she had done so well in recovery. And that is the toughest part about addiction. Were you friends still? Not “talk every month” friends, but I talked to her from time to time. And that was a monster drug that got ahold of her, it was a mean one. You can’t go back to that one. Nobody beats that. I look at people—and I don’t think I’m speaking out of line—Sam Jackson, I’ve known for thirty-some-odd years, he was down at the bottom. And he came all the way back. And when he cleaned up, he never looked back. But he can’t have that beer, because it might lead to the tough thing. Whitney was such a sweet, sweet girl and really just a humble girl. You know, they made her this thing. She had a voice, obviously, but they packaged her into this whole whatever, but she was really just this humble, sweet girl. Me and Lenny [Kravitz], we were talking about her yesterday, and it’s more of an example to me or the rest of us to keep it together. I was listening to her song “I Look to You.” It’s prophetic. Maybe I’m speaking out of line. Maybe she thought she could have one. And then the next thing you know, her body was betraying her. She didn’t know that her body was aging quickly. She couldn’t take it. Your body can only take so much. Some people survive [Hollywood and fame], and some people don’t. How do you think Obama fits in now? Well, the story’s not told yet. He’s in the beginning of the third quarter. I don’t know what his legacy is yet. He’s the first—that’s a part of it. Like Jackie Robinson. But it just wasn’t the first game; it was lasting the whole thing. Would you ever go into politics? No. I’m an independent. In some ways I’m liberal, and other ways I’m conservative. We get so locked in on “you have to be this or that.” It’s ridiculous. I’m not a liberal or a conservative completely. Who is? Or why do you have to be? You assess the pros, the cons, of both sides and you make an intelligent decision. How did you feel about Obama endorsing same-s*x marriage? What did he say about it? He said he was in favor of it. That he didn’t oppose it. What does that mean? [laughs] It’s the political way of saying, “I support it.” You know, I think people have the right to believe what they want to believe. And people have the right to disagree with it. If you had one thing to say to African-American readers of GQ, what would you say? Take responsibility. One of the things that saddens me the most about my people is fathers that don’t take care of their sons and daughters. And you can’t blame that on The Man or getting frisked. Take responsibility. Look in the mirror and say, “What can I do better?” There is opportunity; you can make it. Whatever it is that you choose, be the best at it. You have an African-American president. You can do it. But take responsibility. Put your slippers way under your bed so when you get up in the morning, you have to get on your knees to find them. And while you’re down there, start your day with prayer. Ask for wisdom. Ask for understanding. I’m not telling you what religion to be, but work on your spirit. You know, mind, body, and spirit. Imagine—work the brain muscle. Keep the body in tune—it’s your temple. All things in moderation. Continue to search. That’s the best part of life for me—continue to try to be the best man.