‘Shrinking’ helped Jessica Williams work through a ‘traumatic’ time
Jessica Williams always goes to bed laughing.
“Everything’s so sad,” the actor explains. “Not taking yourself seriously is the only way, because otherwise I would just be upset, especially as a Black woman in the year 2026. I hate when people are on ‘The Bachelor’ and they’re like, ‘I love laughing,’ but it’s true. I really love it.”
Williams, 37, knows a thing or two about making others laugh. A three-time Emmy nominee for supporting actress in a comedy series for her work on “Shrinking,” she’s made an art of it. On a show about grief and mental health, Williams is often on hand to bring the funny.
Curled up in a chair on the top floor of The Times’ offices in El Segundo, looking down on the runways of LAX boiling in the late July sun, Williams gives runway fierceness against the beige office walls. She is just like the pop of bubblegum pink polish on her toenails as she strikes a pose in a chic all-black linen ensemble — a delightful burst of cheer in a subdued environment, something effervescent amid so much inoffensive sameness. She’s always been that way.
I would know; I’ve known her since we were 12 years old, awkward adolescents in Marcia Barryte’s Dodson Middle School drama class. As we catch up, I remind her of a PG-13 scene she caused in eighth grade science class during an earthquake drill. (To be fair, the drama students were asked to play standardized patients, and she was assigned “hysteria.”) While the class collected our backpacks, she broke into an award-worthy performance, wailing about not wanting to die a virgin.
“No!” she gasps, covering her mouth but unable to hide the mischievous grin that’s broken across her face at the memory. “That’s very inappropriate. I love that.”
Under slightly different circumstances, it’s a storyline that could belong to her “Shrinking” character, Gaby Evans, a therapist who brings her sunny demeanor, audacious sense of humor and enviable stores of energy into every room. That’s partly because so much of who Gaby is has been carefully honed by the writers and Williams to align with the actor’s voice.
“We can write almost anything and Jessica can make it sound like it has stemmed from Gaby,” says series co-creator Bill Lawrence. “She’s in charge of Gaby’s voice — and it’s a tremendous safety net for us as a writing staff.”
Jessica Williams in “Shrinking.”
(Apple TV)
Williams agrees this has been her experience, one she’s grateful for in an industry often dead set on ignoring perspectives like hers. “At the end of the day, white guys are in charge of this business,” she says. “Progress in film and TV requires them to go to bat for us. I feel really lucky to be on a show where Bill pulled me aside and was like, ‘If I’m doing my job right, the first couple episodes, we write these stories, and then, there’s a moment where it switches to being your character and you are the shepherd of her.’ It made it really collaborative and a safe space for me to play.”
Three seasons in, the set has become the world’s best playground. For instance, the writers gave Williams ample runway in a scene where Gaby turns the tables and proposes to her boyfriend, Derek (Damon Wayans Jr.), after discovering an engagement ring in a desk drawer (and getting it stuck on her finger). “Look, if you’re a television writer and you have a proposal scene and you don’t let Jessica Williams run with it, you’re cheating yourself,” quips Lawrence.
That mutual trust doesn’t mean that Gaby and Williams are the same person — just that Williams’ lived experience has shaped who Gaby is. “The point of a scene is we don’t know what it’s going to be,” she says. “We learned our lines. We’re going to show up. The director’s here. They have an idea. We’re going to make this thing together. We’re going to ‘Yes, and?’ until we get the scene up.”
Her ability to take the ball and run with it is what caught Lawrence’s eye in the first place, discovering Williams as a correspondent on “The Daily Show.” “She works very hard at making it seem like it’s off the cuff,” he emphasizes. “She is quick to call the writing staff with questions and is always looking to improve things. That’s not always the truth with everybody. She works her ass off.”
Jessica Williams. (Ryan Pfluger / For The Times)
That work ethic was essential for her Season 3 arc, which found Williams facing some of the toughest acting challenges of her career. Gaby bonds with a new, albeit reluctant, patient, Maya (Sherry Cola), only to be devastated when Maya takes her own life. It’s the heaviest storyline of the season — and a heartbreaking look at the realities of suicide, loss and trauma in the lives of mental health professionals.
One of the show’s consultants had experienced a similar loss, and their insights helped the writing staff find dramatic resonance. For Williams, it was a chance to showcase what she always believed she was capable of. “For women, people of color, queer people, any minorities, we just want the opportunity to show what we can do,” Williams says. “I was rubbing my hands together. Like, ‘F— yeah. Let’s go.’ But I was also really nervous. Sometimes when I get scenes that are a bit more difficult, I wake up and I wonder if I can do it. Every single time it’s proving to myself that I can. It felt like I didn’t get to rest last season in a way that was really nice. Most times I feel like I’m just goofing, but that felt like, ‘Oh, I’m an actor.’”
That’s an inevitable side effect of appearing on a Bill Lawrence show. His blend of humor and pathos demands a high-wire act from his ensembles. “With Bill, you have to have the acting chops to be able to do the drama, but then be able to turn a joke very quickly,” says Christa Miller, who’s been married to Lawrence since 1999 and played major roles on “Scrubs” and “Cougar Town” before “Shrinking,” in which she stars as Liz. “You really have to be able to do it on a dime.”
Lawrence clocked early on that Williams had the chops to hold her own against heavyweights like Harrison Ford. “We knew comedically she would crush it. The only question mark was about who she was as an actress,” says Lawrence. “But she was great from the second she set foot onstage. It would’ve been a massive mistake not to let her showcase that stuff.”
The storyline also pushed Williams to reopen an old wound. In 2019, she lost her longtime boyfriend to a heroin overdose. “He had a therapist who had come recommended from my therapist,” she says. “I don’t remember that time that much because it was so intense and traumatic. I do remember my therapist was helping me work through it, but she was also like, ‘I’d like to check in with his therapist and see how he’s doing.’ That was the first place I went when they told me about that storyline. It was a good opportunity to work through that a little bit.”
Even though her grief was readily accessible, it also churned up emotions that Williams often tries to quiet. “There’s always something when someone dies, whether it’s suicide or an accident, where you feel guilt,” she reflects. “‘What could I have done?’ It was something that I’ve processed and am still processing, and it was easy to transfer that into Season 3. Grief is so ongoing. It’s a wound that I have forever, and I would give anything to not have it. But now I have it, and I live with it. It’s like an old friend.”
Williams describes the days filming those scenes as different for her, harder to shake. Driving home from the set in Burbank, she’d often take side streets back to her house in Eagle Rock, getting lost in music and her environment. “It felt like trying to shed it,” she explains. “I really felt it. But so many people responded to it in a way that was what I wanted. It’s such an intimate thing, this job, and to be able to portray something [that resonates], that’s the whole point.”
One emotion the work generated that she wasn’t expecting? Embarrassment. “I’m usually not embarrassed doing comedy,” she says. “I’m like, ‘There’s no rules. We can try anything.’ It doesn’t feel as vulnerable, whereas acting, there’s something fundamentally so indulgent about it.”
It’s a surprising admission; though I haven’t spent substantial time with Williams in years, she always seemed fearless to me. Willing to do whatever it took to get a laugh. It’s why our drama teacher invented an entirely new role for her in our spring musical, to showcase her generational comedic talent.
Williams agrees she was a cutup in class, but she never got the chance to do any capital-A acting in middle school. “I would get a part, and then I wouldn’t be able to do it,” she recounts. “Mrs. Barryte would have to call my parents and be like, ‘She did not do her homework. She has bad grades. She can’t do the play.’ I let people down. I remember feeling really sad about it.
“That taught me I’m a part of a team,” she reflects. “I have to be professional. I have to be ready. But I’m glad I don’t have to do my math homework to be able to perform. Public school’s tough — you had to be an awkward Black girl and get good grades to do the musical.”
That all changed when Williams found improv, joining the ComedySportz team at Harbor City’s Narbonne High (she continued on the college team while she was a student at Cal State Long Beach). “I cared about improv so much that I wasn’t not going to do my homework,” she says. “It just affected my life profoundly. I’m getting misty thinking about these programs that are underfunded, that s— really matters.”
Williams has also found reassurance in the response to her character. “She makes me more confident,” she admits. “Just seeing the response to Gaby. A lot of that is amazing writing, directing and an amazing crew, but it’s also my instincts.”
“The first time I was like, ‘Whoa, what the f—?’” she says of her three Emmy nominations for the role. “Second time, it was like, ‘OK, it wasn’t a fluke.’ And then the third time you’re like, ‘Oh s—!’ All the actresses that I admire are in this category, so I’m honored. But these are my peers too. So it’s like, ‘Oh, they see me.’ Gaby means something to people, it feels like — and that’s really nice. It encourages me to keep going.”
As for what that future will hold, besides at least one more season of “Shrinking,” Williams is hungry to do a play on Broadway, having not done theater since high school. Somewhere in there she’d like to capitalize on her tendency to play erudite characters and embody a detective in a thriller (preferably a paranormal one like her childhood faves “So Weird” and “The X-Files”).
Mostly, though, she just wants to keep doing what she’s been striving for since we were kids — “I want, when you watch me, for you to feel like you’ve seen something magic happen.”
Well, abracadabra.
