By Marshelle Sanders
In her breakout role as Shug Avery in The Color Purple at the Goodman Theatre, Aeriel Williams shares a powerful story, both onstage and off. In a heartfelt interview, the Chicago native reflects on her full-circle journey: from portraying Squeak in a touring production to now embodying the iconic Shug in her hometown.
Williams opens up about what this role means to her personally, spiritually, and artistically. She also credits faith, deep research, and relentless perseverance as the pillars of her career and life.
Marshelle Sanders: What does it mean to you, personally and professionally, to step into the iconic role of Shug Avery at the Goodman Theatre?
Aeriel Williams: It means everything. This role feels like a divine assignment. Years ago, when I was touring with The Color Purple as Squeak, every night I’d step into that world and feel a yearning, a part of me wanted to grow into Shug’s shoes. Back then, it was just a spark. Now, it’s a full flame.
To step into this character now, at home in Chicago, at this moment in my life that feels like the culmination of prayers, preparation, and purpose. I don’t take it lightly. Shug Avery isn’t just a character; she’s a mirror. A mirror for so many women who have had to reclaim their sensuality, their softness, their voice, especially in a world that always asks Black women to be strong.
Professionally, it’s a milestone. Personally, it’s healing. It’s like I’m standing in the gap between my ancestors and the next generation, telling a story that matters deeply to us all.
Sanders: You’ve portrayed powerful Black women, from Josephine Baker to Nina Simone to Shug. What has that journey meant to you?
Williams: It’s been sacred. Every time I embody one of these women, I’m honoring them. I’m reaching back to carry their legacies forward. These women weren’t perfect. They were complex. Brilliant. Brave. They faced erasure, exploitation, and emotional turmoil, but they still demanded space. That is the essence of resilience.
What makes it even more personal is that I see my family in them. My grandmother, my aunts, women from church, from school, women who loved hard, laughed loud, suffered quietly, and kept showing up. Every time I get on stage, I bring them with me. They’re the blueprint.
As an artist, I’m always asking: What is the emotional truth of this woman? What did she have to survive to become who she was? That’s where I find my power, and where I hope others see theirs too.
Sanders: In portraying Shug, how did your research and personal life influence your performance?
Williams: When I started digging into Shug, I realized she’s more than her reputation. She’s a layered human being. She’s sensual and assertive, but also deeply wounded.
Reading Alice Walker’s novel, and going beyond the script, helped me understand who she was before the audience even meets her. I learned that Shug was likely based on women like Bessie Smith and Ma Rainey, queer, creative, business-savvy women who existed unapologetically in a time when that wasn’t safe. That shaped how I approached her: not as a seductress, but as a survivor.
I wanted to understand the world Shug came from, how juke joints contrasted with revival tents, and how women of that era carried both femininity and strength. These were the first generations born after slavery, and simply being themselves was an act of protest.
I was inspired by stories like Ma Rainey teaching Bessie Smith how to negotiate her worth, knowing exactly how many seats were in a venue and demanding her share. That kind of power and awareness informed how I approached Shug.
There’s also this coded strength, especially in how LGBTQ communities had to navigate the world. Shug has that tension, hesitancy, but also boldness. When she takes off her gloves on stage, it’s symbolic: she’s showing up fully as herself.
In my own life, I’ve seen women like Shug. My grandmother, God rest her soul, had that same fire. That same “I’ll take care of me” energy. But also that hidden tenderness, that heartbreak she rarely spoke about. I tried to bring all of that into the role: the joy, the pain, the history, the heartbeat.
Sanders: How do you see the struggles of characters like Celie, Shug, and Sofia reflected in the lives of women today?
Williams: Their struggles are still here, just dressed differently.
We may not be in 1910 Georgia anymore, but so many of us still wrestle with silencing, abuse, generational trauma, and self-worth. What’s different now is that we’re starting to name those things. We’re starting to heal out loud.
But it’s still hard. Many women are carrying their families, navigating identity, and trying to survive in systems that weren’t built for them. And yet, we rise.
That’s why stories like The Color Purple matter so much. They remind us that we come from a long line of women who endured, who healed, who found joy in the cracks. We’re still doing that. We’re still writing our liberation in real time.
Sanders: What do you want young women, especially young Black women, to take away from your performance and this story?
Williams: I want them to see themselves. To know they are enough, just as they are, before the world tries to shape them.
Shug, Celie, and Sophia each represent a different kind of strength. And the beauty is, none of them are perfect. They’re messy, complicated, and powerful. I want young women to know they can be all of those things, too, and still be worthy of love, freedom, and joy.
Don’t be afraid to evolve. Don’t be scared to choose yourself. That’s what Shug teaches Celie, how to love herself, how to claim her own space. That lesson never gets old.
And from me? Keep God at the center. Get therapy. Surround yourself with people who see your light, not just your labor. And don’t let “no” stop you. I’ve heard so many no’s. But I didn’t let them close my heart to the “yes” that God had for me.
Audiences still have the chance to experience Aeriel Williams’ captivating performance as Shug Avery in “The Color Purple” at the Goodman Theatre, running through August 3. After the production closes, catch her live as Mon’Aerie at Untitled Supper Club on Friday, August 15 at 8 PM, and again with Byron Stingily of Tent City at Millennium Park on September 19.
Stay connected with Aeriel as her remarkable journey continues, from the stage to the screen and beyond on Instagram @monaerie
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