I remember, growing up, it wasn't sexy to be African. We got called names.

There are so many professional women who have to be this boss, but when they get home, it's like, 'Can someone take care of me? Can I not be so powerful?'

There's random people calling my phone: 'Your mother gave me your number.' My mother has tried to set me up so many times long-distance.

I had my masters in public health, and the goal was to be a doctor, and organic chemistry let me know that that was not going to happen, as did my fear of blood.

I want to do a romantic comedy. Like a 'When Harry Met Sally' romantic comedy... A really sweet, show-my-vulnerability kind of role.

Talent grips us. We are overtaken by the beauty of Michelangelo's sculpture, riveted by Mariah Carey's angelic voice, doubled over in laughter by the comedy of Robin Williams, and captivated by the on screen performances of Denzel Washington.

Over the years, I learned that in my career, unlike in life, sometimes my wheelchair is its own automatic door opener. I was able to win the OWN competition by applying one simple principle: be funny, and admit you suck before anyone else can call you out on it. In other words, make the narrative of your failure a comedy.

The two things I understand best are stand-up comedy and martial arts. And those things require an ultimate grasp of the truth. You have to be objective about your skills and abilities to compete in both.