I am co-writing a screenplay now and I'm working on the rights to

Kerry Washington once spoke with clarity and quiet strength when she said: “I am co-writing a screenplay now and I’m working on the rights to another story I want to do. So I plan to produce and direct. So, for me, I don’t really feel that I am vulnerable to that sad baggage that comes with the business of filmmaking.” In these words lies not only the determination of an artist, but the wisdom of one who understands how to transform vulnerability into empowerment. She speaks of reclaiming authorship—of refusing to be merely a participant in an industry that so often consumes the dreams of the many while rewarding the few. Her tone is neither boastful nor defiant; it is the calm assurance of a creator who has chosen to own her voice rather than surrender it.

The origin of this quote reflects Washington’s evolution from actor to visionary. Having navigated the labyrinth of Hollywood—an empire known for its glamour and its cruelty—she recognized that survival in such a world requires not only talent, but agency. Many before her had been swallowed by what she calls the “sad baggage” of the business: the disappointments, the compromises, the exploitation of art for profit. But Washington, like the wise of old, saw that freedom lies not in fleeing from the system, but in mastering it. By writing, producing, and directing, she was not merely expanding her craft—she was seizing control of her destiny.

In the spirit of the ancients, her declaration calls to mind the story of Hypatia of Alexandria, the philosopher and astronomer who refused to let the patriarchal boundaries of her time confine her intellect. Hypatia wrote, taught, and led despite the hostility of those who feared her independence. She, too, refused to be “vulnerable to the sad baggage” of her era—the expectations that sought to silence her. Washington’s words echo the same defiance: that an artist, like a thinker, must claim authorship of her life lest she be written by others. Creative power, once seized, becomes the antidote to despair.

But Washington’s insight extends beyond the realm of filmmaking. Her statement speaks to every person who has ever felt diminished by the systems they inhabit—whether those systems are of art, labor, or society. The “sad baggage” she speaks of is not unique to Hollywood; it is the sorrow of dependence, the weariness of waiting for others to validate one’s worth. When she says she does not feel vulnerable to it, she is declaring a universal truth: that those who create their own path cannot be imprisoned by another’s gate. Her freedom is not given—it is earned through courage, work, and vision.

In her tone, there is also grace. Washington does not reject the industry that shaped her; she transcends it. This is a lesson the ancients often taught—that power is not domination but transformation. Just as Odysseus, weary from his long voyage, learned to bend the winds of fate rather than curse them, so too has Washington learned to navigate her profession with wisdom instead of bitterness. Her creative independence is not rebellion—it is alignment with purpose. The true artist, she implies, is not the one who suffers most, but the one who turns suffering into strength.

Her words also carry a quiet challenge to the next generation of dreamers: take ownership of your craft, your story, your name. Do not wait for permission to create. The age of waiting is over. Whether in art or life, dependency breeds disappointment, but self-direction breeds endurance. The “sad baggage” of any industry—its politics, its exploitation, its fickleness—cannot weigh down the one who carries her own compass. Washington’s confidence is thus not arrogance, but a declaration of sovereignty. She shows that liberation is not found in applause, but in authorship.

So let this teaching be passed down: do not let the world define your worth or dictate your story. When the structures around you seem unjust, build new ones. When you feel vulnerable, create. When you encounter the “sad baggage” of disappointment, do not carry it—transform it into fuel. Like Kerry Washington, become both the author and the actor of your life. For in that balance lies true freedom: the ability to move through the world without fear of being broken by it. To those who walk this path, every obstacle becomes not a burden, but a lesson—and every creation, an act of victory.