Olivia: Alright Jackson, I’ve got a challenge for you. You’ve just finished Gabrielle Union’s memoir, You Got Anything Stronger? Give me your five-word review. Go. Jackson: Okay, five words. I’ve got it. Unfiltered, messy, necessary, sometimes uncomfortable. How's that? Olivia: That is spot on. Mine would be: Vulnerability is your new superpower. And I think the space between our two reviews is exactly where this book lives. Jackson: Absolutely. It’s not a neat, tidy celebrity memoir. It’s raw. And that title, You Got Anything Stronger?, feels less like a request for a drink and more like a plea for something to get through the sheer weight of life she describes. Olivia: That’s the perfect way to put it. Today we are diving deep into You Got Anything Stronger? by Gabrielle Union. And what's fascinating is that this is her second memoir. She wrote it as a follow-up because she felt her first book, while successful, didn't go far enough. She wanted to engage more vulnerably with her readers, to really tear down that wall between her public persona and her private struggles. Jackson: It definitely feels like that. She’s not just telling stories; she’s dissecting her own scars for us to see. That idea you mentioned, vulnerability as a superpower, feels like the perfect place to start. It’s a thread that runs through the entire book, isn't it? Olivia: It’s the central thesis. She argues that for decades, especially as a Black woman in Hollywood, she was taught to perform perfection. To be respectable, palatable, and strong in a way that meant showing no weakness. This book is her rebellion against that.

Jackson: So how does she make that case? Because it’s one thing to say ‘be vulnerable,’ but it’s another to actually live it, especially when your life is so public. Olivia: She starts with a really powerful story. A few years ago, she consulted a shaman who told her, "You look at vulnerability as your Kryptonite, and you need to think of it as your superpower." At first, she completely rejected it. For her, vulnerability was what got you hurt, what got you taken advantage of. Jackson: I mean, that makes sense. Especially given her story. In an earlier chapter, she talks about being a survivor of sexual assault and how she built up walls to protect herself. The idea of letting those walls down must have been terrifying. Olivia: Exactly. But she slowly started to test the idea, and the most moving example comes from her family life. She talks about her relationship with her stepdaughter, Zaya. For a long time, Gabrielle kept an emotional distance. She defined her role as 'not the mom,' creating what she calls an invisible 'fence' to avoid overstepping. Jackson: A kind of self-preservation, maybe? To avoid getting hurt or rejected in that role? Olivia: Precisely. But then, one day she saw Zaya was in deep pain about something. Her husband, Dwyane, was out of town, and Gabrielle realized she had a choice: maintain the fence or tear it down. She chose to tear it down. She went to Zaya and said, "I’m not gonna wait any longer. With your permission, I’m gonna storm through the fence. I’m gonna be the Nickie that you need. And while I’m not your mother, I can mother you well." Jackson: Wow. That takes immense courage. To admit your own emotional barriers to a child? That’s next-level vulnerability. Olivia: It was a breakthrough. Zaya opened up about her feelings, about having had what she called 'three different childhoods' due to family changes. They had this incredibly deep, connecting moment. Union realized that by embracing her own vulnerability, she created a safe space for her daughter to do the same. Her 'kryptonite' became the key to a deeper family bond. Jackson: That’s a beautiful story. But how does she apply this to her career? Because in Hollywood, I imagine vulnerability is often seen as a professional liability, not an asset. Olivia: That’s the tragic irony she explores. She dedicates a whole chapter, "Dear Isis," as an apology to the character she played in the 2000 film Bring It On. Isis was the captain of the East Compton Clovers, a Black cheerleading squad whose routines were stolen by a rich, white suburban team. Jackson: An iconic role! That movie was a cultural moment. Olivia: It was, but Union is haunted by it. She says she was so afraid of Isis being perceived as an 'angry Black woman' that she neutered her. In the famous confrontation scene, she improvised lines to make Isis seem more 'respectable' and 'classy'. When her teammate wants to fight, Isis says, "unlike them, we have class." Isis lets the other team off the hook without any real accountability. Jackson: I remember that. She came off as the bigger person, the more dignified one. Olivia: But Union now sees that as a failure. She says she was catering to the white gaze, making her character palatable so audiences wouldn't be scared of her. She denied Isis her righteous anger. She writes, "I had muzzled her. I had made her respectable. And for that, I am so, so sorry." She realizes she was projecting her own fears, her own need to be seen as a 'good Black person,' onto the character. Jackson: So her journey with vulnerability is also about unlearning that need to be palatable. It’s about reclaiming the right to be angry, to be messy, to demand accountability. Olivia: Exactly. And that pressure to be perfect as a Black woman bleeds directly into one of the most painful, and powerful, parts of the book: her journey to motherhood.

Jackson: Her fertility struggles are a huge part of her public story. But the way she writes about it here is just… devastatingly honest. Olivia: It’s brutal. She details years of IVF treatments and multiple miscarriages—eight or nine of them. For years, she was told she had 'unexplained infertility.' She and Dwyane Wade were spending a fortune, going to the best doctors, and just enduring loss after loss. She felt like her body was failing her. Jackson: And the whole time, people are just casually asking her, "Why don't you just use a surrogate?" as if it's some easy, transactional fix. Olivia: She hated that question. Because for her, it felt like an admission of defeat. She writes about the deep, primal desire to experience pregnancy, to feel the baby move, to get the public reverence that pregnant women receive. The idea of surrogacy felt like she was being erased from her own motherhood story. Jackson: That’s infuriating. To go through all that pain and loss, only to find out years later that a specific condition was missed by multiple top doctors? Olivia: Yes. After years of failed treatments, she finally sees a new doctor, Dr. Kelly Baek, who takes one look at an ultrasound and immediately diagnoses her with adenomyosis. It’s a condition where endometrial tissue grows into the muscular wall of the uterus. Dr. Baek told her she likely had it since her twenties and it was the reason for her heavy periods and, critically, her body's inability to carry a pregnancy to term. Jackson: So all those years of IVF, all those miscarriages… they were essentially doomed from the start because of a condition that went undiagnosed? Olivia: That's what the book implies. The diagnosis was both a relief and a source of profound grief. Relief to finally have an answer, but grief for all the years of unnecessary pain and treatment. It was at that point her husband Dwyane told her, with so much love, "You've done enough." He was ready for surrogacy because he couldn't watch her suffer anymore. Jackson: And even then, the decision wasn't easy for her. She's brutally honest about the complex emotions. The jealousy, the feeling of failure, and the added layer of Dwyane having a child with another woman during a break in their relationship. Olivia: She lays it all bare. She admits that Dwyane having a son with someone else made her feel like her body was 'defective in a way that his wasn't.' It fed into this narrative of inadequacy. When they finally moved forward with a surrogate, Natalie, Gabrielle remained emotionally detached, trying to protect herself from more pain. Jackson: Which makes what happens after the birth of their daughter, Kaavia, even more powerful. She talks about this initial disconnection. Olivia: It’s one of the most vulnerable parts of the book. She describes feeling like she was 'performing' motherhood. She didn't have that instant, magical bond she thought she was supposed to. She writes, and this is a direct quote that is just gut-wrenching, "I will always wonder if Kaav would love me more if I had carried her." Jackson: To admit that fear publicly is an incredible act of generosity to other mothers who might feel the same way but are too ashamed to say it. How did she finally find that connection? Olivia: It happened one afternoon when she was alone with Kaavia for the first time. Kaavia, just a baby, lifted her head, locked eyes with her, and in that moment, something shifted. Gabrielle realized she needed to stop stressing and just let her daughter tell her who she was. She saw Kaavia's independence, her spirit, and recognized herself. She realized the best way to mother this child was to value her fierce independence. Jackson: So the connection came not from forcing a traditional maternal role, but from accepting her daughter, and herself, exactly as they were. That theme of confronting uncomfortable truths, both internal and external, seems to be her driving force. It's not just about personal struggles; she takes on systemic injustice head-on.

Olivia: Absolutely. She has become a major activist, and the book shows how her personal experiences have fueled that. There's a chilling chapter called "Escape from King's Landing," which recounts a trip to Dubrovnik, Croatia. Jackson: The filming location for Game of Thrones. Sounds like a dream trip. Olivia: It was supposed to be. She was there with her team—her hairdresser, makeup artist, stylist—a group of friends who are mostly Black and/or queer. They were all huge Game of Thrones fans and thought they were escaping to this fantasy world, a respite from the racism of America. Jackson: I have a bad feeling about where this is going. Olivia: Their illusion was shattered almost immediately. They were walking in the Old City when they stumbled upon a bar that was, to their horror, decorated with Jim Crow-era racist memorabilia. Minstrel figurines, mammy salt and pepper shakers. Just openly displayed. Jackson: In Croatia? That's shocking. Olivia: They were stunned. They tried to leave, but were then confronted by a group of local men—skinheads—who started making menacing gestures and revealed swastika tattoos. They felt a very real, physical threat. Her friend Larry, a Black gay man, actually broke a beer bottle to defend them as they fled. Jackson: My god. That’s terrifying. To go from a fan pilgrimage to a fight for your safety against neo-Nazis. Olivia: It was a brutal wake-up call. She writes, "We think it has to be better somewhere else, but it’s only when we leave that we really understand how anti-Blackness and bigotry are so ingrained in the white supremacy that fuels colonialism." There was no escape. Jackson: Wow. So it's a full circle. From feeling like she had to be the 'good Black person' to avoid trouble in her youth, as she describes after her assault, to realizing that even as a global celebrity, there's no escaping that threat. It’s not about her behavior; it’s about the system. Olivia: And that’s her point. The experience solidified her belief that you can't be respectable enough to be safe from racism. You have to be ready to fight back, whether that's with a broken bottle in a Croatian alley or with your voice on a global stage. Jackson: Which brings us back to her apology to Isis from Bring It On. It’s like she’s connecting the dots of her own life—from suppressing a fictional character’s anger to facing real-world hate. She’s realizing that respectability is a trap. Olivia: It is. And she’s determined not to pass that trap on to her daughters. The book is dedicated to Kaavia and Zaya, and she writes, "May you each embrace your vulnerability as your superpower, and may I not falter as I attempt to lead by example." She’s trying to give them the freedom she’s had to fight so hard to find for herself.

Jackson: So when we look at the whole book, what's the 'stronger' thing she's asking for in the title? It seems like it's not alcohol, but something else entirely. Olivia: Exactly. The 'stronger' thing is grace. It's the courage to tell the truth, even when it's ugly, painful, or makes people uncomfortable. In one of the final chapters, she writes "Fuck Balance." She argues that the idea of 'balance' is a myth, a marketing scheme sold to women to make them feel like they're failing. Jackson: I can see that. The endless pressure to be the perfect mother, perfect wife, perfect career woman, all at the same time. It’s an impossible standard. Olivia: It is. And she says what we really need isn't balance, but grace. Grace for ourselves when we mess up. Grace for our partners when they don't get it right. Grace to admit we're overwhelmed and need help. The strength isn't in having it all together; it's in admitting we're falling apart and then helping each other get back up. Jackson: That feels so much more achievable, and so much more human. It’s not about individual perfection, but about community and mutual support. Olivia: That’s the heart of it. She moves from a place of deep personal pain—infertility, trauma, insecurity—to a place of collective power. She advocates for pay equity, for LGBTQ+ rights, for racial justice. She realizes her story isn't just her own; it's a reflection of the struggles of so many others. Jackson: It makes you wonder what 'kryptonite' we're all hiding, thinking it's a weakness when it might be our greatest source of connection. Olivia: A powerful question. And one she leaves us with. She doesn't offer easy answers, just the hard-won wisdom that our cracks are where the light gets in. We'd love to hear what resonated with you all. Join the conversation on our socials and let us know your thoughts. Jackson: It’s a book that will definitely stick with you. A tough read at times, but an important one. Olivia: This is Aibrary, signing off.