Exploring Identity and Resilience: Yaya DaCosta's journey through womanhood and fame

Yaya DaCosta has spent years thinking about how identity is formed and reshaped. When we speak during her Dubai visit for Gladiator Summit III, the conversation settles quickly into that territory. It moves through self-definition, visibility, ambition, womanhood, and the quieter forms of strength that are rarely rewarded in public life.

DaCosta is widely known for her portrayal of Whitney Houston in Lifetime’s Whitney and for her role in seasons two and three of The Lincoln Lawyer. She remains aware of how closely audiences track presence. She notes that there has been considerable feedback from viewers about her character no longer appearing on the series. The response, she believes, speaks to how visibility lingers even after a role ends.

Self-definition sits at the centre of how DaCosta understands her life and work. She describes it as layered and practical rather than abstract. “Authenticity is a word that gets thrown around a lot these days,” she says. She welcomes the focus when it encourages reflection. “The more we unlearn and undo the things that were placed on us, the things that weren’t authentic, the easier it becomes.”

She traces these patterns back to early conditioning. “As children, we receive very clear messaging,” she says. “If I behave this way, I receive love. If I behave that way, I get rejected.” Families, schools, and social systems teach children how to show up in order to have their needs met. Those lessons often remain long after childhood ends. “School, family, society all teach us how we must show up in order to have our needs met,” she says. “It takes a lot of work to sift through those childhood patterns and figure out who we really are underneath all of that.”

For DaCosta, clarity comes through restraint. “Authenticity and self-definition become easier when we’re doing less,”

she says.

That mindset shaped her experience portraying Whitney Houston, a role that arrived under intense scrutiny. DaCosta says she had experienced public attention before. This project carried a different emotional weight. Houston was a real person with a living family and a devoted global fan base. “It felt especially delicate because of her family,” she says. She understands the discomfort many felt about the timing of the film. “I completely understood the disappointment people felt about the film being made so soon after her passing,” she says.

The production itself moved quickly. DaCosta was cast a week before filming began. The shoot lasted 18 days. The pace left little room for hesitation. What grounded her during filming was a close study of Houston’s own relationship with fame. “If you study her interviews, you see that she felt being put on a pedestal didn’t allow her to be human or make mistakes,” DaCosta says. That awareness shaped her approach. “I used that to connect more deeply with her experience,” she says.

Preparation for the role unfolded alongside significant personal demands. DaCosta was scheduled to work on another project when Whitney emerged. She submitted her audition tape at the last minute with her newborn baby sleeping on her back. She learned she had the role either the same day or the next. She left the other job to take it, a decision that attracted attention at the time.

She immersed herself in Houston’s interviews and tried to reach people who knew her personally. Many declined. “It was a delicate time,” she says. She relied on public material to infer a private inner life. She describes Houston as having a carefully constructed public presence alongside a more guarded personal self. Balancing those realities became one of the role’s central challenges.

DaCosta’s reflections on visibility extend beyond acting. She describes herself as naturally private. Public work required acceptance of exposure. “There are no days off,” she says. She recalls showing up to set sick, pregnant, exhausted, and barely able to speak. Production schedules continued regardless. “People don’t stop production because you’re struggling,” she says.

Over time, she learned how to care for herself within those constraints. She cannot cancel work impulsively. She can ask for support. She mentions practical adjustments. Hot tea in a prop cup. Stand-ins during lighting. Rest between takes. These measures allow her to stay present. “I’ve learned to balance the work with caring for myself,” she says.

That awareness extends into everyday life. DaCosta speaks openly about the pressure many women feel to perform. “I want to say I only perform when I’m paid,” she says, then reframes the thought. “We all perform to avoid being disliked.” That instinct shapes behaviour in subtle ways. “That can lead to betraying yourself,” she says.

Motherhood reshaped her priorities. “The biggest shift for me was becoming a mother,” she says. Her focus changed. Family time became more important than reputation. When she sets boundaries in public while caring for her child, she accepts how those moments may be interpreted. “That’s okay,” she says. “Motherhood gave me clarity and balance.”

Reinvention remains a recurring theme in her thinking. She mentions having five planets in Scorpio, a sign associated with cycles of ending and renewal. Reinvention feels intrinsic to her life. At the same time, she believes her core self remains steady. “At my core, I’m the same person I’ve always been,” she says.

She defines reinvention as necessary when integrity erodes. “Reinvention becomes necessary when you’re out of integrity with who you are,” she says.

DaCosta often speaks about womanhood through a physiological lens. She identifies the menstrual cycle as persistently misunderstood. “It’s treated as purely physical,” she says. “It’s deeply emotional.” She questions expectations that women perform at a constant pace regardless of hormonal shifts. She believes well-being and productivity would improve if lives were structured with this awareness. The subject remains dismissed or trivialised. “If it wasn’t for that time of the month, none of us would exist,” she says.

Her views on ambition follow a similar framework. She describes ambition as requiring balance and awareness. She distinguishes between action and receptivity. The masculine impulse focuses on doing and producing. The feminine impulse allows for stillness and attraction. Stillness, she observes, is often misread. To explain sustainable ambition, she offers a simple image. Placing an order at a restaurant requires action. Waiting for the meal requires trust. Timing forms part of the process. Some outcomes take longer to prepare.

The word resilience prompts hesitation. DaCosta expresses discomfort with it. “Resilience feels like a companion to suffering,” she says. She questions why resilience is required in environments shaped by respect. She prefers language rooted in sovereignty and self-direction.

On the question of growth and acceptance, she sees alignment. Experience can be honoured and still used as a source of learning. “Acceptance and growth coexist,” she says.

When asked what she hopes women take away from their encounter with her work, she returns to agency. She wants women to choose how they show up with intention.

Her current projects reflect that focus. She is filming a documentary centred on birth work and maternal health. She is also launching an online school. The first course focuses on forgiveness. She describes the platform as a space designed to feel safe and intentional.

Acting remains part of her future. She confirms that audiences will see her on screen again. She approaches roles selectively. She mentions recently filming a comedy pilot and expresses interest in lighter work.

Forgiveness remains central to her thinking. She distinguishes forgiveness from forgetting. “Forgetting isn’t the goal,” she says. Memory prevents repetition. Forgiveness creates freedom. She encourages starting small. The sense of release deepens with practice.

When asked to name a favourite Whitney Houston song, she pauses. She chooses I Wanna Dance with Somebody and I Have Nothing. Each reflects a different emotional register.

“She was extraordinary,” DaCosta

says.