This recent action figure reveal brought up some things. And I had some time, so wanted to share some truthful thoughts:

Looking back, I still remember how the directors told me, “No one wanted to play that role. You came in and blew us away.” The directors were from Detroit. I was from Detroit. We got it. We understood.

I never doubted playing that role. I never doubted saying those lines. It was something that just made sense to me.

It’s interesting how most of our perspectives on life come from the environment we grow up in.

In our world, seeing people addicted to crack was an everyday reality. That was normal to me. So when I read the script, I didn’t have to force myself to understand my character’s desperation.

It wasn’t about the act. It wasn’t about anything sensational. It was about a person who would do anything to get that high. And THAT’s what I understood. I didn’t need to pretend or act like it was something foreign—it was real to me.

I wasn’t playing someone addicted to crack, but in a way, I was playing someone who would do whatever it took to get out of the life I knew.

I was a 19-year-old kid from Detroit, trying to escape, the same way my character was. I wanted that shot at happiness, that chance to break out of the reality I was stuck in.

Just like that character, I was willing to do anything to get it. But while my character might have been bartering for drugs, I was bartering for something else: success. And not just for success, but for that check, that chance to get out of the situation I was in.

But here’s where it gets real: I wouldn’t have bartered sex for success. Only if I was attracted to the person, and let’s be honest, that’s just human nature. You find someone attractive, and you also know there’s an opportunity there. Why not? There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s just being real, just being honest.

What many don’t know, however, is I said “no” to something regarding this role. I may have seemed gullible or desperate at the time, but I beg to differ.

I’ve always had this gift of vision. A strong, intuitive connection to my spirit, to God. When I read that script, something about that character just rang out to me. I knew it would stand out. It would shock people. Who doesn’t love a good cringe, right? I thought to myself, “This is going to hit, to impact.”

Yeah, sure, it would’ve been nice to play the lead, which I also read for. I don’t know if they had me read for the lead just to see the breadth of my talent, or if it was to entice me with the idea of this role. I’ll never know. But what I do know is my spirit said, “That one.”

But I digress. The “no” I had to say wasn’t about this role. It was about something else. I had been offered a part in a Wayans spoof movie. I went in for one role, and when I read for it, they got so excited, they decided to add my character into the film.

They offered me that role, I said nope. They asked, “How much do you want to do it?” trying to entice me. I said, “I’m good.”

I said no because I didn’t want that role to define me for the rest of my life. The irony of it now is hard to ignore.

I was just starting out, and I had the chance to be part of a cool project with them. But I knew I had to stay true to who I was and what I wanted my career to be. At that time, the crack head inside sat down, I wasn’t looking for a quick fix, for a paycheck or a quick laugh. I wanted something real. And turning that down was one of the hardest, but smartest choices I’ve ever made.

So, looking back on Menace II Society, I realize that role wasn’t just acting—it was a reflection of my own hunger. My own struggle. And, in the end, it was exactly what I needed to do.

No one wanted to play that role, but I did. And in the process, I grew as an actor and as a person.