Father President, I have the honor of presenting for the honorary degree of Doctor of Fine Arts
 
to Ms. Viola Davis.
Your transcendent performance in the 2011 film, The Help gained international acclaim
and prestigious recognition.
amplifying the achievements of a remarkable career that places you among the most accomplished
artists the state of Rhode Island has ever produced.
 
Versatility and steadfast commitment to your craft have brought a record of accomplishment on stage and screen.
 
 
Your passion and talent have carried you from the humblest of beginnings
 
to hard-earned success and fame.
Known for your rare talent and uncommon perseverance,
you have thrived in the most competitive and demanding environments,
earning widespread accolades and universal respect.
 
For these reasons, Father Chairman and Father President,
the Corporation of Providence College presents Viola Davis as one deemed worthy to receive the
honorary degree of Doctor of Fine Arts and requests you to confer upon her
this degree together with all its rights and privileges.
(applause)
We are delighted, truly, today to welcome back to Rhode Island
Viola Davis, who has earned an international reputation as a critically-acclaimed
actor of film, theatre, and television.
Her stellar performances in films such as Doubt, and The Help have captivated audiences
and earned her the highest accolades in her industry.
While Providence College honors Ms. Davis for her extraordinary theatrical talent,
we are pleased, also, to honor her as one who serves as an inspirational role model
for many who struggle to overcome the daily challenges of adversity.
Ms. Davis' life story epitomizes transformation, demonstrates the healing power of perseverance, hope, and faith.
Please join me in welcoming Ms. Viola Davis.
(applause)
You know, when John Garrity picked me up from
the airport, I said, “Oh my goodness, I’m
so nervous I’m going to be speaking in front
of 1,200 people”, and he said, “Try a
little bit more than that.”  And I thought,
“NOOOO!!”
But really, I am so honored to be here, to
impart my infinite wisdom, and I mean that
facetiously, at your birth, beginning, start,
threshold, genesis, kickoff, launch, commencement.
And I have to say that the 
content of my speech would have sounded totally
different ten years ago, pre-marriage, pre-baby,
pre-the passing of my father, pre-midlife. 
I would have made a lot of stuff up, and been
very self- congratulatory and self-righteous
about what a wonderfully dramatic speech I
gave, but how I neither lived nor believed
none of it.  Thank God this is not ten years ago.
So, what can I give you?  A long-time friend
of mine, Leah Franklin, after a passionate,
late- night discussion, inspired me with a
powerful, honest quote, and I’ll try to
do it in her voice: “Oh V, you know, nobody
ever tells you that life sucks.  I mean the
only people who are happy are 2-year-olds
and 80-year-old billionaires.”  Now, I
get the 2-year-olds but the 80-Year-old billionaire
I didn’t get.  Well maybe Hugh Hefner,
but ….
And for some reason that marinated in my head
and the only image I had was from the movie,
The Exorcist. You know when Ellen Burstyn
comes home late to find her assistant frantic,
her assistant then whisks her upstairs to
her pre-teen daughter Reagan’s room, played
by Linda Blair. The room is freezing, dark,
and Reagan, who is not really Reagan, but
a demon, tied to a bed, covered with scars,
breathing heavily, the room is really cold…
and the assistant says, “I wasn’t going
to bother you with this, but I thought you
had to see it.”  She raises Reagan’s
nightgown to reveal her abdomen, and two words had
been scratched: “Help me.”  And I thought,
“That is such a great metaphor for life.”
(laughter)
I’m going to hit you with something deep. 
You know, your authentic self is constantly
trapped under the weight of the most negative
forces in this world.  And it will be an
everyday battle. You know, sometimes I felt,
and you will feel, that who you are is hidden
away like a piece of really great jewelry
that you keep in a box, and you only take
it out during special occasions.  Yet your
everyday persona is a type of demonic possession.
But the demons aren’t gargoyles or red-faced
men with horns, but everyone else’s dreams,
desires, definitions of success, greed, the
pursuit of personality instead of character,
the exchange of love and family, for money
and possessions, entitlement with no sense
of responsibility, and the most frightening
demon of all, lack of purpose.
If I do not know who I am, it is because I
think I am the sort of person everyone around
me wants to be.  Perhaps I’d never asked
myself whether I really wanted to become whatever
everyone else seems to want to become.  Perhaps
if I only realized that I do not admire what
everyone seems to admire, I would really begin
to live after all.  You see the two most
important days in your life are the day you
were born and the day you discover why you
were born.  Now I have only been able to
slay dragons when I have kept these two important
facts in sharp focus, because at some point
in life, it will indeed suck.  Loss of a
loved one, health issues, marriage, children,
loss of passion, the discovery that what you
thought you wanted in life … you don’t. 
You veer off course, but all that while, that
purpose, that thing that you were specifically,
divinely made for will be looming in front
of you. 
You know when I was 42, I was present at the
passing of my father, and I remember the hospice
worker telling my mom that he was very, very
sick, and the only reason he was holding on
was because he needed permission to go.
She had to tell him and she couldn’t. 
Now, my vision of what I wanted to become
and how I wanted to make a mark involved the
musty, 1,200-seat theatres of New York City
and the big screen.  I wanted to be an artist. 
I had no vision of that 42-year-old woman
at hospice, telling her dad to move on. 
And here I was, with him desperately reaching
out, clinging for life, and telling him “Go.” 
At 38, I got married in a white dress.  I
thought never in my life will I get married. 
I had dreams before the ceremony of taking
an elevator to the 38th-floor of a building
and stepping in and looking at me, and not
the me of 38, but the me in my 20s.  Only
the 20-year-old me was standing there, dead,
zombie. Someone told me, “Well, marriage
is like a death…you die to yourself.”
And there I was the next day, reciting those
vows with great joy.
And children, no images of being a 46-year-old
mother with a 2-year-old child entered the
realms of my imagination.  Yet once again,
here I am, facilitating a life, guiding with
the knowledge that I cannot protect, but only
love.  Stumbling at times, yelling internally,
“Help me.” Happy, disillusioned, exhausted,
fulfilled, knowing that I am giving all I
am, all I really am, to this life.  You know, it’s
said that humans are the only creatures who
stay at their mother’s bosoms the longest. 
Perhaps that’s why when we are thrust into
the world, we flail and thrash, looking for
a sanctuary, answers, to be saved.
The good news is that the privilege of a lifetime is
being who you are.
And as for the demons,
you exorcise them. How? To those who say, “What
is my purpose?” I say, “You know.”
And to those who know, I say, “Jump!” 
The people, the heroes in our life have gone
before us. The labyrinth is fully known and
we’ve only to follow the thread of the hero
path.  And where we had thought to find an
abomination, we shall find God, and where
we had thought to slay another, we shall slay
ourselves, and where we had thought to travel
outward, we shall come to the center of our
own existence. And where we had thought to be
alone, we shall be with all the world. 
And hey, you asked an actor to give your commencement
speech. So, you know, the actor, the imagination,
the flair, just goes wild. So the only thing
once again churning through my head was a
monologue from George C. Wolf’s The Colored
Museum, and the character’s name is Topsy. 
They say it’s the most overdone monologue
in the world. I say it can never be overdone,
because the message is eternal.  And Topsy
talks about a function she went to one night,
way uptown.
And baby, when I say way uptown, I mean way, way, way, way, way, way, WAY uptown.  Somewhere
between 125th street and infinity.  Inside
was the largest gathering of black, Negro,
colored Americans you’d ever want to see. 
Over in one corner you got Nat Turner sipping
champagne out of Eartha Kitts’ slipper. 
Over in another corner you got Burt Williams
and Malcolm X discussing existentialism as
it relates to the shuffle ball change. Girl,
Aunt Jemima and Angela Davis was in the kitchen
sharing a plate of greens and just going off
about South Africa.  And then Fats sat down
and started to work them 88s. And then Stevie
joined in, and Miles, and Duke, and Ella,
and Jimmy, and Charlie, and Sly, and Lightning,
and Count, and Louie, and everybody joined
in.  And I tell you, they were all up there
dancing to the rhythm of one beat, dancing
to the rhythm of their own definition, celebrating
in their cultural madness.… And then the
floor started to shake, and the walls started
to move, and before anyone knew what was happening,
the entire room lifted up off of the ground,
defying logic and limitations and just went
a-spinning and a-spinning and a-spinning until
it just disappeared inside of my head. 
That’s right girl, there’s a party going
on inside here.  That’s why when I walk
down the street my hips just sashay all over
the place, ’cuz I’m dancing to the music
of the madness in me.  And whereas I used
to jump into a rage any time anybody tried
to deny who I was, now all I gotta do is give attitude,
quicker than light, and go on about the business
of me because I’m dancing to the music of the madness
in me. And here, all this time I’d been
thinking we gave up our drums, but no, we
still got them. I know I got mine. They
here, in my speech, my walk, my hair, my God,
my smile, my eyes and everything I need to
get over this world is inside here, connecting
me to everybody and everything that ever was. 
So honey, don’t try to label or define me
because I’m not what I was ten years ago
or ten minutes ago. I’m all of that and
then some.  And whereas I can’t live inside
yesterday’s pain, I can’t live without it.
To the 1,200 heroes of Providence College,
your commencement begins with the call to
adventure and it comes full circle with your
freedom to live, so I say, “Go on and live.” 
Thank you very much. I am so honored to be here
at this time.
(applause)
