Natasha Rothwell, the Emmy-nominated actress, comedian, writer, and producer, is making waves in Hollywood by challenging conventional beauty standards and advocating for inclusivity. Through her roles in shows like Insecure and movies like Love, Simon, she is working to "shift the paradigm and challenge expectations." Rothwell's journey is one of self-acceptance, resilience, and a commitment to telling diverse stories that reflect the multifaceted nature of all people.
A Journey of Self-Belief
Rothwell's journey began in college when she majored in theater. One of the biggest things she learned was not to tell herself no before someone else did. The inner critic can be really loud. Early on in her career, she would just listen to it and tell herself no. As someone who's creative, I know the inner critic can be really loud. She realized that there are enough people in the world who want to tell you not to do something, especially if you're a woman and especially if you're a woman of color.
She chose to really believe in her ideas and value her opinions and fight for what she thought was good and funny and fun-the stories she thought were worth telling. If someone else says no, which is inevitable in this business, that's a different a fight than fighting yourself before you even get to that point.
Rothwell emphasizes the importance of perseverance in the entertainment industry. You don't do this for a living if you think that success is going to be immediate or if you think it's going to look a specific way; it's not going to be immediate, and it will never look how you think it will. You definitely have to earn your stripes and go into auditions and be told no. It’s a mind game you have to play. But for me, the drive to keep going is this deep-seated passion and desire to not give up. When you know you're meant to do something and you know you love doing something more than anything else in the world, a no from someone else is not going to stop you. It didn't stop me.
Challenging Industry Norms
Rothwell acknowledges the resistance she has faced in an industry that often values a certain aesthetic. In an industry that looks a certain way and values a certain aesthetic, you can face resistance that doesn't necessarily live in the audition room. It just sort of lives in how you navigate the industry. There's no specific story where someone looked at me and said, "No! Too black, too fat." No one's had the gall to say that to my face, but you learn about what casting directors tastes are. It's not a secret that the media that's out there to consume tends to look a certain way. She points out that film and television have historically been treated as forms of escapism, which has led to unrealistic expectations and a lack of representation for diverse body types. Since the inception of Hollywood, film and television have been treated as forms of escapism. From its genesis, they were never meant to reflect reality; they were supposed to be aspirational, which is problematic. So you have this aspirational form of escapism, and it's teaching young girls that they should aspire to look a certain way. I think we're dealing the aftermath of that sort of approach to escapism and to theater and film.
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However, Rothwell takes pride in being a plus-size woman and actively seeks roles that celebrate body positivity. There are a handful of plus-size women who are telling diverse stories, and it is problematic, but I take great pride in being plus-size. I'm a plus-size, fat-loving, body-positive feminist, and I look for roles that celebrate that. And I try to write to that when I have the opportunity to do so. It's not necessarily writing a storyline that's like, "Let's celebrate and focus on this person's size." It's telling any story and the person driving that story happens to be plus-size.
She envisions a future where diverse stories are told with plus-size casts, normalizing different body types on screen. I would love to see stories…with a plus-size cast. Let's see two real chunky people do When Harry Met Sally and not change a damn word. It's very similar to Love, Simon in that way. It's a story about someone coming out, but it's a love story at the end of the day, and the person driving that story is LGBTQIA+, which is so powerful. It's a familiar story that gives to a platform to a marginalized voice, and I think that's so cool. It really presents the vulnerability of what it means to be a teenager, and anyone in the audience can connect to that. I would love to see stories treated that way with a plus-size cast. Let's see two real chunky people do When Harry Met Sally and not change a damn word. Let’s tell diverse stories and lift the pressure off of making a moment out of the other.
Active Allyship and Authenticity
Rothwell's role as Ms. Albright in Love, Simon exemplifies her commitment to portraying active allies in the queer community. What I loved about playing Ms. Albright in Love, Simon is that so often when we speak of allies in the queer community, we don't really get to see what it means be an active ally. I love that she can step into this world with these kids and be a truth teller. She’s not being afraid of calling out bullying and speaking her mind as an adult with these kids. She keeps it 100. She might use a swear word, but she knows you're not going flip out about it. You’ll appreciate it because it's real. She hopes that movies like Love, Simon encourage people to be their authentic selves and inspire activism against injustice. I hope movies like Love, Simon encourage people to be their authentic selves. For the ally community, it speaks to the necessity of activism, especially now. Speak out when you see injustice and understand that in a very real way, silence is violence. You don't want to be in the position where you give in to fear.
Embracing Vulnerability in "How to Die Alone"
In Hulu’s new series, How to Die Alone, Rothwell takes on multiple roles as creator, co-showrunner, writer, and star. A particularly poignant scene involves her stripping down to her bra and underwear and plunging into the freezing waters of Lake Ontario. There’s a scene in the finale of Hulu’s new series, How to Die Alone, in which creator, co-showrunner, and star Natasha Rothwell strips down to her bra and underwear and plunges into the freezing waters of Lake Ontario. Her character, Mel, was technically the one who decided to take the leap-but as far as Rothwell is concerned, she wasn’t acting at all. This act of vulnerability was a cathartic experience for Rothwell, allowing her to embrace her body and overcome insecurities. “That is Natasha on camera, not Mel,” the 43-year-old says with a laugh. “They didn’t want me to do it. They wanted a stunt person to do it. They had medics on standby. They had heating pools. They had people in the water with me, because it was a cold plunge. It was 32 degrees or something.”Freezing temperatures were the least of Rothwell’s concerns. “For me to strip down in my underwear on national television…if I were to tell myself even in my late 20s, early 30s, that I would be undressed, I’d be like, ‘You’re a liar. Go back to the future because that’s not happening.’”As it was, the star of the upcoming third season of White Lotus says being that vulnerable onscreen was probably the most cathartic moment of her life. “I was just able to be present and not be like, ‘Oh my God, they can see my stretch marks and my back fat.’ I had done something big and brave.”
Rothwell acknowledges the role of therapy and medication in managing her anxiety and embracing vulnerability. Rothwell points to her therapist and medication for making a lot of that more manageable. “God bless beta-blockers to get me down red carpets,” she says, laughing. “That is not my natural habitat. It scares the shit out of me.”
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Challenging Societal Expectations of Single Women
How to Die Alone challenges societal expectations placed on single women in their 40s. Rothwell, who is 43, created the show to address the pressure and judgment she has experienced for not being partnered. Oh, don’t I know it. I wrote this whole show about it because that was what I was going through. I’m 43; I turn 44 this year. For the longest time, being partnered was the goal. It was not professional accomplishments, it wasn’t saving the world. It was just, “Who are you dating? When are you getting married? Why don’t you want kids?” I wanted to create a show that challenged that and really prioritized the satiating of feeling lonely as opposed to the alone piece.
The show celebrates autonomy and encourages women to prioritize their own happiness and fulfillment, regardless of their relationship status. So, everything you’re saying resonates with me. I am so excited by the response because so much of the love I’ve gotten on social media are people, women who are of a certain age and are like, “Thank you so much for writing something that celebrates this moment. It’s cheering us on in our autonomy and allowing ourselves to have a different path than what was prescribed to us by rom-coms and Disney.”
Rothwell hopes the show can be a catalyst for others to live in a way that celebrates their own journey and to not stigmatize. My hope is that the show can be a catalyst to others living in that way and seeing it as something to celebrate and to not stigmatize.
Creative Timing and Divine Intervention
Rothwell emphasizes the importance of creative timing and trusting the process. Just like romantic timing, I think creative timing is also divine. While I would’ve wished it happened a long time ago, I’m just glad at this moment. It seems like it’s hitting at the right time culturally, and people are really needing it right now. So for that, I’m super grateful. There was something in me where I knew I could not put this on the shelf and walk away. In the seven and a half years since I pitched this show, I didn’t see this story on TV. It needed to be told.
The White Lotus: Returning with Confidence
Rothwell's return to The White Lotus for season three was met with both excitement and nervousness. What is the saying? Anxiety is just excitement, but with expecting something bad to happen. There’s some sort of phrase that encapsulates that. So it was definitely excitement. It was over dinner. Mike had come back in town after shooting season two and said, “I want to talk to you about perhaps doing something in season three.” I was obsessed with him from Dawsons Creek, Freaks and Geeks, and Enlightened. When I met him and started working with him, it was wonderful to know that he was just as good as I had hoped he’d be.
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Despite her Emmy nomination, she felt intimidated by the new cast members but was ultimately reassured by their appreciation for her work in season one. Terrified. I mean, as the cast was being announced, I was like, “Oh my God. Oh my God, oh my God.” I’m impressed by the breadth of their careers. I was very nervous showing up to a dinner the first weekend. I have social anxiety. I usually find a place where my back is near a wall and I can plant myself. I was watching them come in and tried to not be like, “Oh my God, that’s Parker Posey. That’s Walton Goggins. That’s Leslie Bibb. That’s Michelle Monaghan. That’s Carrie Coon.” By the end of dinner, Carrie comes up to me and says, “I’m so excited to meet you.” She was saying all the things I was thinking about her. She’s like, “We’re nervous to meet you. You are season one.” I was like, “I am season one.” It took me a second. So it was cool to be reminded of who I am through the eyes and the likes of fucking Carrie Coon and literally everyone I just mentioned.
Telling Authentic Stories
Rothwell's commitment to portraying authentic characters extends to her portrayal of plus-size women. She emphasizes the importance of representing the full spectrum of humanity and not reducing characters to stereotypes. What sorts of decisions did you make as a writer/actor/co-showrunner to ensure you were portraying a plus-size woman who is granted her full spectrum of humanity? That is why I wrote the show. I didn’t see that represented in a way that resonated with me. It was important not to think about the show in binary terms, [like] comedy/drama. To me, the human experience is nuanced and varied. Playing a layered character that’s allowed to do a pratfall in the same series in which I’m breaking up with an ex made me so grateful. Both of those scenarios can exist on the same show.
She made a conscious decision to use the word "fat" as a descriptor rather than a slur in How to Die Alone. Even the way the word “fat” is used on How to Die Alone feels like a sea change. It’s not a slur or curse word, it’s just a descriptor. That felt really intentional. In the giant staff meeting we had before we started production, where the HR folks were doing their musts and do-nots, I had an opportunity to address everyone. I spoke specifically about the word “fat” and that it is not to be used on set or in meetings pejoratively. To me, it is a fact. And at no point in the show is Mel going to lose 30 pounds and figure it out. No. She is herself and her issues are internal and she has to get out of her own way.
Rothwell's decision to appear in her bra and panties on screen was a personal act of self-acceptance and empowerment. There was a moment in the series where I’m just in my bra and panties. And if you told me 20-plus years ago, before I started therapy, that I would be on national television in my underwear as a plus-size woman, I would think you were smoking something. But it was so important for me to do that scene. I told the director and the crew that day, “This is for me.” I, Natasha, needed to do it. It was probably one of the more profound moments of my life, feeling so exhilarated and free. When we were in the edit, I remember telling our editors, “Leave my stretch marks. Leave my rolls. That’s my body. Let it be.”
A Love Letter to the Unhealed Self
Rothwell describes How to Die Alone as "a love letter to the unhealed version of myself." You’ve described this show as “a love letter to the unhealed version of myself.” Can you explain that? I think I was afraid to take off in a lot of ways, and I didn’t give myself nearly enough grace in growing. I was really hard on myself. I’m also a recovering perfectionist. I beat myself up for not having a lot figured out at an early age. In How to Die Alone, we also see a protagonist that is trying, and who’s worthy to try. Our mascot for Mel is the Roomba vacuum cleaner, because it hits wall after wall after wall, but it keeps going and it cleans up as it goes. I think the unhealed version of myself, her nose was a little bit too close to the painting to see that the work she was doing was actually working. And hindsight being what it is, I look at the life that is my room and it’s much cleaner than it was before.