53
rightout of it. “I suddenly had so much respect for my body,
how it managed to get better against all odds,” she says. “I was
so impressed that I decided to never hurt it again, and I’ve
never turned back.”
How hard is it, I wonder, to be an actress working in
Hollywood, to avoid talk of your appearance, when (whether
you like it or not) it is part of your currency? Jamil is quick to
answer. “I haven’t changed my appearance for anything,
and I won’t. I don’t avoid it, I just don’t change it. If someone
doesn’t cast me because I don’t fit the look of a super-skinny,
super-young sex doll, then that’s okay. I would rather not get
cast than change myself, and send the message to other
women that they need to change themselves.” She doesn’t diet,
doesn’t do surgery, doesn’t exercise (though she admits she
should, for her heart) and while for years she’s requested that
magazines not Photoshop her, she finally has enough clout that
now they’re listening. “I don’t care enough about this industry to
be a bad role model,” she says. “Nothing is worth it. I would
never encourage people to change things about themselves
that are perfectly wonderful and varied. The industry doesn’t
mean enough to me.” She pauses for a moment before adding,
“It is insane to me how much this industry, or fame or money,
means to some people.”
By some people, I ask if she means Kim Kardashian West,
who Jamil recently called out on social media for spruiking
appetite suppressant lollipops. “Yes,” she says. “I was so
disappointed, I mean, how much more money does this woman
need? To post a totally airbrushed picture of yourself, and allude
to the idea that you’ll look like a Kardashian if you suck on this
fucking lollipop – it’s so irresponsible and
dishonest.” Kardashian West took the
photo down after the backlash unfolded,
but it sparked something in Jamil. “The
things we’re told to worry about, you
know, stretch marks and armpit vaginas,
I mean, kill me now! Elbow fat, apparently
that’s a thing? I feel like our attention is
constantly being diverted away from success and progress,
towards meaningless, nonsense things which don’t exist.” She
sighs. “That’s the sort of thing that men never have to worry about.”
That Jamil is so confident in her own body and mind, that she
has the complete courage of her convictions, might seem
confounding to some – after all,The Good Placeis her first acting
job, ever. Who the hell does she think she is, coming in here and
disrupting the system? But Jamil’s been outspoken her whole
career. She once shut down an interview with Russell Brand (“He
was a fucking nutter, a complete nightmare,” she says now) and
by her own admission, is a “notorious livewire”. Part of that
probably stems from being stuck in bed for two years as
a teenager in pre-internet days, having very few people to talk to,
and needing to make up for lost time, but I suspect that whatever
Jamil did with her life, she’d do it with her characteristic openness.
Indeed, it’s what landed her that first role as a presenter. “I was
working as an English teacher and I met this guy in a pub. I guess
I was talking, talking, talking and he said, ‘You’d be good on telly,
send me your show reel.’” After googling “show reel”, she made
one and sent it off, and was called in for an audition. That led to an
eight-year career on TV and radio in the UK, before a health scare
(Jamil found a lump in her breast; it turned out to be benign) made
her realise that life was short, and she decided to go travelling.
It was while passing through LA that a friend encouraged her to
audition forThe Good Place(“Forced me, actually,” she says),
which was then untitled. The only thing Jamil knew about it was that
it was created by Mike Schur, who’d previously worked on
The OfficeandParks And Recreation. That it’s all worked out so
beautifully – Jamil is undoubtedly the show’s breakout star –
isn’t surprising to her at all. “I’ve never had too
much of a plan, and I don’t think you ever
should. Planning too much gives you tunnel
vision, you can’t let the opportunities come to
you. All the great opportunities in my life- relationships, friendships, jobs – they’ve all
sort of come out of nowhere. And I love that.”
The Good Place, which is about the
afterlife, asks ethical questions not normally
discussed on any form of television, let alone
a half-hour sitcom. It’s made Jamil think more
clearly about what makes a good person.
“When I first got to know Tahani, I thought,
’This woman is an arsehole!’ But the amazing
thing about the show is that it reminds you that
everyone has a backstory, everyone has
a reason for who they are.”
I ask Jamil how she’d like to be remembered, and the answer
comes swiftly. “I want to be someone with a good moral compass.
Someone who cares for others and is never hypocritical.
Always kind. Compassionate.” She pauses and then laughs. “But
you know, they’re never letting me into the good place.
Have you seen how much I swear on Twitter?”E
”THE THINGS WE’RE
TOLD TO WORRY
ABOUT, YOU KNOW,
STRETCH MARKS
AND ARMPIT
VAGINAS, I MEAN,
KILL ME NOW!
ELBOW FAT,
APPARENTLY
THAT'S A THING?”