(Credit: Netflix)
In Tyler Perry’s Straw, Taraji P. Henson gives one of the most soul-shattering performances of her career. Portraying Janiyah Wiltkinson, a mother pushed beyond her limits in a world that seems to have forgotten her, Henson doesn’t just act—she bleeds on screen. The result is a portrayal so raw, so real, that you may find yourself sobbing well after the credits roll.
Here are 7 reasons why Taraji Henson’s emotional performance in Straw will hit you right in the gut.
1. She’s a Master of Emotional Truth
Taraji doesn’t just perform—she inhabits. Her training at Howard University’s prestigious Department of Theatre Arts grounded her in classical technique, which she pairs with fearless vulnerability. In Straw, every eye twitch, every breathless moment feels lived. When Janiyah pleads, “Nobody cares! Nobody sees us!” it doesn’t feel like acting—it feels like truth.
This is the same depth we saw in The Curious Case of Benjamin Button (2008), where her portrayal of Queenie earned her an Academy Award nomination for Best Supporting Actress. Critics then, as now, applauded her emotional range and natural delivery.
2. She’s Relatable—In a Way That Hurts
Part of what makes Taraji’s performance so devastating is how familiar Janiyah feels. She could be your cousin, your neighbor, your mother, or even you. The exhaustion in her voice as she tries to hold her life together mirrors the silent battles many women face daily.
This authenticity is a Henson hallmark. Whether she’s Cookie Lyon in Empire or Yvette in Baby Boy, Taraji brings the full weight of lived Black womanhood into every role. She isn’t playing a stereotype—she’s playing real life.
3. She’s a Real-Life Single Mother
Taraji’s emotional depth doesn’t come from imagination alone. She’s a single mother herself, raising her son Marcell after his father was tragically murdered in 2003. She’s spoken often about the pressures of balancing motherhood and a demanding career, and that real-world grit seeps into every inch of Janiyah’s desperation in Straw.
When she cries on-screen, you believe her—because you know she’s cried off-screen, too. Her ability to channel those lived experiences makes her portrayal almost too painful to watch.
4. She Shows the Ugly Side of Struggle—With No Filter
There’s nothing polished or glamorized about Janiyah’s descent in Straw. Taraji lets herself be undone. Sweaty, frantic, disheveled—she lets the audience witness the ugliness of a nervous breakdown in real time. And it’s harrowing.
This fearless surrender is reminiscent of her role in I Can Do Bad All By Myself (2009), where she played April, a woman forced to confront her selfishness after being left to care for her nieces and nephew. Like Straw, it was a story of redemption, but also one of reckoning—and Taraji owned it.
5. Her Range Is Devastating
In Straw, she ricochets from rage to hopelessness to resolve in a single scene. That’s not easy. Many actors deliver one emotion well—Taraji gives you the full emotional spectrum without ever losing control of the story.
You can see similar mastery in Hidden Figures (2016), where she portrayed mathematician Katherine Johnson. A particularly powerful scene—where Johnson breaks down in front of her white colleagues over having no bathroom—was unscripted and spontaneous. That’s Taraji: never afraid to feel in front of the world.
6. She Speaks for the Invisible
One of the most crushing elements of Straw is how it speaks to every woman who’s ever been ignored, overworked, and underappreciated. Taraji has long used her platform to speak about mental health, pay inequality, and being overlooked in Hollywood. She’s not just acting—she’s advocating.
When Janiyah says, “There’s always somebody doin’ it worse,” the line lands like a punch. It’s not just a script—it’s a societal critique wrapped in pain.
7. She Gives Her Whole Self to the Role
You get the feeling watching Straw that Taraji left something on that set. It’s the kind of performance that doesn’t come from rehearsal alone—it comes from memory, empathy, and an almost spiritual willingness to be broken in service of story.
This is Taraji’s gift. She doesn’t protect herself. She offers her body, her voice, her soul—and in doing so, she holds up a mirror to ours.
Bottom line? Straw will wreck you. And it’s all because Taraji P. Henson doesn’t just act. She feels. And when she does, you will too.
