Tracee Ellis Ross opens up to Michelle Obama about grief over no kids after 50

Tracee Ellis Ross Grieves the Life She Thought She Might Have: A Moment of Vulnerability with Michelle Obama

Tracee Ellis Ross has always been a symbol of confidence, grace, and self-possession. But on the latest episode of Michelle Obama’s podcast In My Opinion (IMO), the 51-year-old actress revealed a side of herself rarely seen. In a deeply personal moment, she admitted she is grieving the life she imagined for herself—a life that includes a husband and children.

The Girlfriends and black-ish star confessed this during a poignant exchange with Michelle Obama, saying: “I grieve the things that I thought would be and that are not.” She continued, “I’m not married. I don’t have children… and I think I grieve that at times.”

This moment of honesty from Ross was met with compassion and understanding from Obama, who added, “That’s the pain of being a liberated woman. The choice doesn’t mean the grief isn’t there.” Their raw, tear-filled conversation resonated deeply across social media and among fans, especially Black women navigating similar paths of fulfillment outside traditional norms.

Beyond the Spotlight: Ross Has Been Here Before

Ross has long been vocal about redefining womanhood on her own terms. In a 2020 interview with Marie Claire, she said, “I am the result of what my mom dreamed for herself. I am the manifestation of the seeds she planted.” But even as the daughter of the legendary Diana Ross, Tracee carved her own legacy—one rooted in storytelling, mentorship, and joy.

In a 2021 TED Talk, she shared the liberating journey of detaching her self-worth from romantic partnership. “I used to dream about my wedding day. Now I dream about peace. About owning my own joy.”

Yet grief doesn’t always vanish with self-love. As Ross said on the podcast, “I’m constantly asking, why is that the thing that makes me worthy? And I’m like, I do know that I’m worthy. And yet I still have these dreams.”

The Cultural Weight of Expectations

Ross’s grief isn’t just personal—it’s cultural. Women, particularly Black women, are often told they must “have it all” to be whole. Career, marriage, motherhood, glamour—society rarely makes space for joy outside that script.

Ross challenges that narrative. She has spent decades building a career on her terms, becoming a style icon, Emmy-nominated actress, and beauty entrepreneur. Yet her revelation reminds us that success doesn’t always replace intimacy—and that even the most radiant women carry silent sorrows.

This moment struck a chord because it gave voice to what many women feel but rarely articulate: You can love your life and still grieve the one you thought you’d have.

A Moment That Moved Millions

Since the episode aired, #TraceeEllisRoss trended across platforms. Thousands shared their own silent grief, saying they felt seen for the first time:

“I love my freedom. But yeah, I cry sometimes. Tracee just spoke my truth.”
“I’ve never been married, never had kids. People assume I’m fine with it. I didn’t know I was grieving until now.”

Psychologists call this “disenfranchised grief”—pain that society fails to recognize because it doesn’t fit the usual mold. Ross’s confession gave it a name, a shape, and—most importantly—dignity.

Intersectionality and the Myth of the Strong Black Woman

Tracee’s openness dismantles the “strong Black woman” trope. Often expected to carry others emotionally while suppressing their own pain, Black women are rarely given permission to express vulnerability. But Ross, tearful and raw, said aloud what so many feel in silence: “I’m sad sometimes.”

Michelle Obama echoed this with grace. Having also spoken openly about her marriage struggles and the pressures of motherhood, the former First Lady noted, “You mourn the loss of what you thought life would be. And then you’re brave enough to build something new.”

A Legacy of Choice: Thriving Without Traditional Family Roles

Many celebrated Hollywood figures have built remarkable careers and rich lives without marrying or having children:

• Patricia Clarkson (60s) – Has long embraced her independence, famously saying she was “born without that gene” for marriage or motherhood.
• Jennifer Coolidge (61) – The comedic powerhouse and recent PETA “Vegan Queen” remains unmarried and child‑free.
• Cameron Diaz (51) – Openly shared that the demands of parenting never appealed to her in interviews, choosing fulfillment elsewhere.

• Leonardo DiCaprio (49) – Academy Award‑winning actor, no kids, devotes much of his life to environmental activism.

• Bradley Cooper (49) – Oscar‑nominated actor‑director, no children, balances blockbuster roles with filmmaking projects.

• Jennifer Aniston (55) – Has spoken candidly about accepting her life “without kids or a spouse” and finding joy in friendships and work.
• Oprah Winfrey (69) – Built a media empire and devoted herself to uplifting others rather than starting her own family.

• Dolly Parton (78) – Country icon, no children, pours her maternal spirit into global charity work.

Their diverse paths underscore that there is no single blueprint for a complete life—and that fulfillment can come in many forms.

What Legacy Really Looks Like

Ross’s legacy isn’t defined by a spouse or children—it’s shaped by impact. She’s mentored rising creatives, produced shows centered on Black joy, and launched Pattern Beauty to empower textured hair.

As she once told Oprah, “I am the keeper of my own dreams. My value is not tied to someone else choosing me.” She may not have children of her own, but she’s mothered stories, nurtured cultural conversations, and embodied a new form of feminine power. As a face for a generation of womanhood, her impact surpasses traditional roles.

And that, too, is worthy of celebration.

Redefining Wholeness

Tracee Ellis Ross is whole. She’s not waiting for a ring or a child to complete her. But she’s also honest enough to say: the dream still lingers. And that grief, though quiet, is real.

In this era of curated lives and filtered joy, her voice cuts through the noise. It reminds us that wholeness isn’t about what you have. It’s about being able to hold your joy and your sorrow in the same hand—and say, “This is my truth.”

And that truth just set a lot of women free.