Is it embarrassing to be an actor?

I'm genuinely curious, because I, for one, could not do it

I’ve been watching Sex and the City for the first time recently (how I went this long without watching it, I’ll never know)¹, and though there are aspects of it I love – like female friendships and a freelance writer as the main character – I find myself cringing at others. Sure, Carrie prattling on about Big and Miranda always talking with food in her mouth are a couple of them, but what actually gets me is nearly every scene with Samantha and a man. The flirtation portions are usually okay (even if the dialogue tends to be rather terrible), but the bedroom scenes almost always feature a topless Kim Cattrall howling and writhing in an exaggerated manner, and despite whatever her character Samantha may be thinking, it does not strike me as sexy.

Now, I’m not saying this to be a prude or to shame anyone. I actually appreciate the show for prioritizing female pleasure, and in many ways I think it has helped remove the stigma and spearhead public discourse on the subject. I also recognize it’s the show’s modus operandi to be over-the-top, it’s part of its charm. However, I can’t help but feel embarrassed when I watch scenes like this. I think Kim Cattrall is a great actress, but I can’t help wondering if she herself was cringing at what she was doing while she was doing it.

If so, don’t blame her. Samantha would be a tough character to play. She’s somewhat of a stereotype as the female equivalent of a playboy, perpetually and purposefully single and always on the lookout for her next lay. As a result, Kim is stuck playing the same sort of scantily-clad scenario over and over. Though I’m sure she signed on to it of her own volition and was hopefully compensated handsomely for it, I can also imagine it would get old after a while.

But perhaps because of where Sex and the City was willing to go back then (that is, in depicting sex-positive scenes from the female gaze, if even a little too theatrically), shows like Bridgerton can exist now. It’s no secret Bridgerton is a steamy romance under the guise of a period piece, with main characters baring it all (well, a lot of it) on screen and their lead actors working with intimacy coordinators on set. And although it might be tough to be an actor playing a typecast character like Kim as Samantha, being an actor in something like Bridgerton strikes me as even more difficult. There are dramatic elements, the characters feel intense emotions in addition to lust. They not only have to occasionally be in the nude, they have to stare longingly at each other, confess their undying love, and scream or cry at the prospect of losing them. In other words, clothed or otherwise, they are exposed.

It’s this act of being so vulnerable so publicly that gets to me. I suppose to be an actor you’d have to have no shame, and as someone with a lot of shame, I simply cannot fathom it. In all facets of my life – in my family, in the classroom, in the workplace – I have always been “too sensitive.” I have always been the one who cries, the one who takes things personally. Much of the time I’ve felt like the only person in the room who feels anything at all, and as a result, I’ve been made to feel like that is a bad thing.

This is precisely why I cannot not imagine standing on a stage or a set and being myself, because that would require openly feeling emotion in front of other people – a whole cast and crew – let alone allowing it to be recorded for the rest of the world to see. Based on my experience, big feelings are embarrassing, they make the people around you uncomfortable, which is why I can’t picture myself volunteering my emotions in that way. It doesn’t feel safe. Even though I would be acting, which would imply the feelings are somewhat synthetic, I have yet to experience an environment where big feelings – real or otherwise – are truly acceptable. Even still, I haven’t been able to conceal them. I've never been able to pretend I don’t feel them. 

When I’m not watching shows like Sex and the City and Bridgerton, I’m reading books like I’m Glad My Mom Died. In this memoir, author Jennette McCurdy talks about her harrowing experience as a child actor, one thrust into the spotlight by her mother and forced to be the breadwinner for her entire family. She describes how emotionally taxing it was to get into character, to force herself to be sad so she could cry on demand for the cameras. In writing her book, she says: 

“Through writing, I feel power for maybe the first time in my life. I don’t have to say somebody else’s words. I can write my own. I can be myself for once. I like the privacy of it. Nobody’s watching. Nobody’s judging. Nobody’s weighing in. No casting directors or agents or managers or directors or Mom. Just me and the page. Writing is the opposite of performing to me. Performing feels inherently fake. Writing feels inherently real.”

“Performing feels inherently fake. Writing feels inherently real.”

I relate wholeheartedly to this statement. 

I recently wrote about my fear of being seen, how envious I am of my little brother who has no issue being the center of attention while I actively hide myself in the shadows. It made me think about the ways in which I want to be seen and how writing is very much a part of that. Writing my feelings down has always felt like the safest way to share them.

Although I share Jennette’s sentiment, I still appreciate the work of actors like Kim Cattrall and the cast of Bridgerton. If anything, it makes me more in awe of it (even if it does make me cringe at the thought of doing it myself). It reminds me how the world is full of all kinds of people, how we need each other and our differences. We wouldn’t have great shows and movies if we didn’t have people willing to put themselves out there and act or be themselves so publicly – and we wouldn’t have great books or poems or songs if we didn’t have people willing to put themselves on the page. 

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Author’s Note: There are a few new folks who have subscribed recently, and for that, I want to say thank you – I am so happy you’re here! And to those who have been here for a little while now, I want to thank you as well, it means so so much. I hope you enjoy/have been enjoying these weekly essays (ramblings??) in your inbox. I have an idea for some new, additional posts as well. More to come on that, but in the meantime, thank you for reading and for being here. 🤍

1. I will say, it does feel pretty fitting to be watching it in my thirties, even if I am living a very married and suburban life. But maybe that’s the Charlotte in me?