Viola Davis on Beauty, Sisterhood and Learning Not to Betray Herself

“I can’t believe I’m walking in a fashion show,” Viola Davis says, laughing. We’re talking hours before she takes on the catwalk of L’Oréal Paris’ annual fashion show, Le Défilé, in Paris, which brings together women of all backgrounds for an iconic celebration of empowerment and beauty in every sense of the word. “It’s like, diametrically opposed sometimes to who I am, which is so great, to get out of your comfort zone. Every year, I just enjoy it so much,” she adds. “It’s like a quick jolt of energy. It’s getting out of my comfort zone. It’s pushing myself. It’s feeling pretty.”

For Davis, who is a L'Oréal Paris ambassador, beauty has never been about performance; it’s about presence. “You know that saying, ‘beauty is as beauty does’? That’s how beauty plays a part in all the characters I play. The beauty of anyone is their authenticity,” she says. “All the characters I’ve played have been immensely beautiful to me in their unapologetic sort of self-possession. That’s what it is. It’s self-possession.”

She pauses, then smiles. “That’s how beauty plays a role in the characters, not necessarily in the lipstick.”

The power of self-possession

Davis has long spoken about the importance of self-worth, but when asked how she personally walks her worth, her answer is strikingly simple. “I try not to betray myself,” she says. “Even in small ways.”

“If I’m driving to the grocery store and I’m on the phone with a friend, and they say, ‘How are you doing?’ and I say, ‘Great,’ I feel a little bit of anxiety because maybe I betrayed myself,” she explains. “Maybe I didn’t feel so great. Maybe I had something on my mind.”

Her point isn’t self-indulgence. It’s integrity. “We’re in a time where, especially women, have to really be aware of not disappointing themselves,” she says. “Because it doesn’t move us forward. It doesn’t move us forward as individuals, and it doesn’t move us forward as a group.”

Every morning, she grounds herself in a small ritual. “As soon as I put my feet on the ground, I try not to betray Viola,” she says. “I picture myself as six years old, because at six years old, I never betrayed myself. I didn’t know how to do that.”

Healing as a daily practice

When she’s feeling unsteady or uninspired, Davis’s instinct is to turn inward. “Sometimes what I do is, I get in my massage chair,” she laughs. “I’m by myself and I get in the massage chair and I pick up my book that I wrote. It’s a reminder of my story. There’s something about reminding myself of my story that makes me grateful.”

“I always read the same thing,” she adds. “The last part of the first chapter, or the beginning of the second. It makes me feel good about myself—how far I’ve come. It’s a reminder that that’s where we get our joy, in gratefulness and in being present, instead of focusing on the problems.”

When asked what single piece of advice she’d pass on to the next generation, she quotes something that stopped her in her tracks. “A healer was asked what the one advice you would give any human being on earth,” she recalls. “And the healer said, heal. That’s the one advice—to heal. To use this time on earth to heal. It’s the greatest gift you can give everybody in your life.”

Sisterhood and sacred spaces

Davis lights up when the conversation turns to sisterhood. “I feel like I have so many beautiful women in my life,” she says. “And what makes it beautiful is when you feel safe—when you come together, you create a sacred space where the masks are off and there is no judgment.”

“At the end of the day, we need each other, right?” she continues. “All the women in my life are great broads. They’re unapologetic.”

She compares that connection to the women in The Red Tent, one of her favourite novels, where women gathered in community, free from scrutiny. “That’s how I define sisterhood,” she says. “That sacred space, that transparency, that authenticity.”

Being at ease in her own skin

For all her accolades, Davis’s idea of beauty is refreshingly unguarded. “When I’m by myself,” she says without hesitation when I ask her when she feels most at ease. “When I'm in my room and I can blast my music. I can laugh as loud as I want. I can look as raggedy as I want. I can look as beautiful as I want. I feel fabulous.”

“I felt fabulous in my hotel room last night,” she adds, grinning. “I had a piece of Maison Chocolat, I read a book, I was laughing out loud. I was crying. I felt fabulous.”

For Viola Davis, beauty begins long before the mirror. It’s in honesty, in gratitude, in learning to be fully oneself—even when no one is watching.

Viola's Beauty Edit