In the glittering aftermath of the 2023 Academy Awards, as champagne flutes clinked and golden statuettes gleamed under Hollywood’s brightest lights, Angela Bassett stood poised in a regal purple gown, her smile radiant but her eyes betraying a flicker of unspoken emotion. Nominated for Best Supporting Actress for her thunderous performance as Queen Ramonda in Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, Bassett—a titan of stage and screen with a 40-year career—was widely considered the frontrunner. Yet when the envelope opened, the Oscar went elsewhere.
Nearly a year later, the sting of that loss lingers. In a candid interview, Bassett opens up about the night that became a defining chapter in her journey, not just as an actor but as a symbol of resilience in an industry slow to recognize Black excellence. “Awards are fleeting,” she says, her voice steady yet introspective. “But the weight of that moment… it stays with you. It’s not about the trophy. It’s about what it represents.”
The Burden of Expectations
For Bassett, the 2023 Oscars carried a gravity unlike any other. Her portrayal of Wakanda’s grieving matriarch—a role that demanded equal parts ferocity and vulnerability—had already earned her a Golden Globe, a Critics’ Choice Award, and standing ovations at screenings. Critics hailed her performance as a career zenith, a masterclass in channeling collective grief (both the character’s and her own, following the death of Black Panther star Chadwick Boseman) into art.
“I felt the love from audiences, from my peers,” she recalls. “But I also felt the hopes of so many who’d waited decades to see someone who looks like me hold that Oscar for this kind of role.” Bassett’s previous nomination came in 1994 for her searing portrayal of Tina Turner in What’s Love Got to Do With It, a loss that still punctuates conversations about Oscar oversights. In 2023, the narrative seemed ripe for correction: a veteran actress, a cultural phenomenon (Wakanda Forever grossed $859 million worldwide), and a character emblematic of Black strength and sorrow.
When her name wasn’t called, the reaction was visceral. The camera captured Bassett’s frozen smile, a moment memed and dissected across social media. Fellow nominee Jamie Lee Curtis, who won for Everything Everywhere All at Once, later admitted she felt “conflicted” seeing Bassett’s disappointment. “Angela is a goddess,” Curtis said. “Her work transcends awards. But that night, I ached for her.”
The Night That Divided Hollywood
The 2023 Oscars will be remembered as a watershed for diversity, with historic wins for Michelle Yeoh, Ke Huy Quan, and Ruth E. Carter (who earned her second Oscar for Wakanda Forever’s costumes). Yet Bassett’s loss underscored a persistent tension: Why do Black women—particularly those in non-stereotypical roles—remain overlooked in major categories?
Bassett treads carefully when addressing this. “Progress isn’t linear,” she says. “We’ve seen breakthroughs, but the industry still struggles to value our stories in all their dimensions. Queen Ramonda wasn’t a ‘strong Black woman’ trope. She was a leader, a mother, a woman shattered by loss. That complexity deserves recognition.”
Her sentiment echoes a broader frustration. Since Hattie McDaniel’s 1940 Supporting Actress win for Gone With the Wind, only eight Black women have won acting Oscars, mostly for roles tied to trauma or servitude. Bassett’s nominations, both for real-life icons (Tina Turner, Coretta Scott King in Betty & Coretta), suggest a pattern: Black women are celebrated for enduring pain, rarely for wielding power.
“Angela’s performance wasn’t just ‘good for a superhero movie,’” argues filmmaker Ava DuVernay. “It was a revelation. But when we compartmentalize Black artistry, when we label certain genres ‘less than,’ it limits how our work is perceived.”
The Personal Cost of Public Scrutiny
For Bassett, the Oscars aftermath brought an unexpected reckoning. “You prepare yourself for any outcome,” she shares. “But nothing steels you for the world watching your heart break in real time.” She credits her husband, actor Courtney B. Vance, and their twins, Bronwyn and Slater, for grounding her. “They reminded me that my worth isn’t tied to a golden statue. But…” She pauses. “Artists are sensitive souls. We pour everything into our craft, and when it’s laid bare, it’s hard not to take it personally.”
The scrutiny extended beyond Hollywood. Black fans, particularly women, flooded social media with messages of solidarity, sharing stories of their own professional near-misses and glass ceilings. “Strangers stopped me on the street to say, ‘You were robbed,’” Bassett says. “Their outrage was a mirror. It made me realize how much this moment wasn’t just about me.”
Yet the attention also invited toxicity. Some critics weaponized her loss to dismiss diversity efforts (“See, quotas don’t work!”), while others accused her of entitlement. “I don’t begrudge any winner,” Bassett clarifies. “Jamie, Michelle—their victories were earned. But the noise… it wears on you. You start questioning: Did I do enough? Was I enough?”
A Legacy Beyond Awards
If the Oscars sting, Bassett’s résumé offers balm. With two Emmy wins, a Tony nomination, and an honorary Oscar awarded months after the 2023 ceremony (“A beautiful full-circle moment,” she says), her place in the pantheon is secure. Yet she’s quick to deflect praise. “Awards are cherries on top. The real work is the doing—showing up, telling stories that shift perspectives.”
Indeed, Bassett’s career is a study in pioneering firsts: the first Black woman to play a Marvel superhero, one of the first Black leads in a network medical drama (ER), and a trailblazer in portraying Black historical figures with unflinching dignity. “I’ve always sought roles that expand what’s possible for us,” she says. “When I played Tina, I wasn’t just mimicking her—I wanted to honor her resilience. With Queen Ramonda, it was about embodying grace under siege.”
Her influence extends beyond acting. As a director and producer, she’s championed projects centering Black women’s narratives, from Lifetime’s Whitney biopic to the upcoming Olympic Pride, American Prejudice, about the 1936 Black Olympians. “I want to create opportunities I didn’t have,” she says. “When you open a door, you don’t just walk through it—you hold it open for others.”
The Honorary Oscar: Bittersweet Validation
In January 2024, the Academy awarded Bassett an honorary Oscar for lifetime achievement, a gesture many viewed as corrective. Clad in gold, she accepted the statuette with a speech that blended gratitude and subtle defiance: “To my fellow Black actresses—keep soaring. Whether the world crowns you or not, your brilliance is undeniable.”
Reflecting on the honor, she admits mixed feelings. “It was overwhelming, humbling. But part of me thought, ‘Why now?’” She laughs ruefully. “Maybe they realized they’d missed their chance.” Still, she treasures the moment. “Seeing my children watch me hold that Oscar… that’s the victory. They saw their mother persist.”
The Road Ahead: “The Work Continues”
At 65, Bassett shows no signs of slowing. She’ll reprise her role as Athena Grant in 9-1-1’s upcoming season, executive produce a Rosa Parks biopic, and advocate for diversity initiatives at the Academy. “The Oscars loss taught me that closure isn’t something others give you,” she says. “It’s something you claim by keeping the faith, by rising again.”
She draws strength from her ancestors—sharecroppers and teachers who thrived despite systemic barriers. “They didn’t have trophies to validate their worth. They had their character, their resolve. That’s the inheritance I carry.”
As for regrets? Bassett shakes her head. “I’ve lived a life beyond my dreams. If I never win [a competitive Oscar], so be it. But I’ll never stop telling our stories—loudly, unapologetically, and with every ounce of my soul.”