Sherri Shepherd began her career as a stand-up working the Black comedy circuit alongside Jamie Foxx and Chris Tucker. She spent nearly two decades hustling — on stages, in legal offices, taking guest TV spots — before landing the part that would launch her into the mainstream: a recurring role on 30 Rock as the wife of Tracy Morgan’s character. That same year, she pivoted to live TV, joining Joy Behar, Whoopi Goldberg, Elisabeth Hasselbeck, and Barbara Walters on the set of the hit daytime talk show The View. It was trial by fire for Shepherd. During her tenure, she was openly critiqued for her lack of political knowledge and reproached for her Christian-fundamentalist views on evolution. Her willingness to talk about her personal life freely, however — from her husband’s cheating to her abortions and weight struggles — endeared Shepherd to fans, who were charmed by her potent mix of candor and humor.
In 2022, Shepherd officially picked up the reins of The Wendy Williams Show after highly publicized health issues ended Williams’s tenure in 2021. The show, now called Sherri, is about to begin its fourth season. It is the No. 1 syndicated talk program for Black women ages 25 to 54.
Sitting in the Chelsea greenroom of her show, an explosion of pink confection, the 58-year-old is reflective and sanguine. “Sometimes I still think I’m Sherri who rides the train and picks up my own clothes,” she says. “It took me a long time to feel like I was a part of Hollywood.”
What’s the first moment when you thought, I’m funny?
I was working as a legal secretary. They had repossessed my car, and I was on the bus again. We would always go past the Comedy Store on Sunset before I got to my job in Beverly Hills, so eight of us from work went there. The comedian Andrew Dice Clay got up at some point — that was when he was doing, “Hickory dickory dock / Your wife’s mouth is on my cock,” you know. He was making women mad, and this lady turned around and she said, “You could do that, and you’re funnier.” That planted the seed.
The secretaries had gone home, and I approached Eddie Griffin and Andrew while they were smoking — and when I told them I wanted to do this, Dice was like, “Do it. Get on the stage, and do it scared.” Eddie’s answer was a little nastier than that. Then the legal secretaries got money together for me and paid for me to take comedy classes.
When I went to jail, the women in there would say, “Leave Sherri alone because she is going to be somebody.”
Why did you get arrested?
It was like $10,000 in moving violations. My registration was two years expired, and I had all of these bench warrants for not showing up.
I knew it was coming at some point. I drove with that anxiety for two years, and I have had cars repossessed and towed. Every single time I pulled over, I always pulled into a parking lot and threw my keys under the seat; that way, they didn’t have to tow my car. But when a police officer said, “I have to arrest you,” fear set in. They chained me up in the Van Nuys Corrections Department and closed that door. I was next to a bunch of hookers. It was surreal — I was like, Oh my gosh, I don’t know how to fight! That is where the gift of making people laugh came in handy.
What did the first time on a stand-up stage feel like?
I was so nervous. Comedy classes teach you how to craft a joke. I went through six weeks of that, but nobody else from my class was doing stand-up. I was so nervous and fresh off of being a Jehovah’s Witness. But the first laugh I got, I was like, Oh my gosh, you really like me?
I needed that because at the time, my mom was going through diabetic complications; she was dying. My sister was on drugs. I had a boyfriend that was crazy as hell and had just gone to prison. Everything was crashing around me. But this was one thing that I could control, and it felt so good. I just talked about my family, and I did my Valley Girl accent. I had one joke that my girlfriend stole — I said, “I have a boyfriend, and for Valentine’s Day, he didn’t give me no gift. And I said, ‘Where’s my flowers?’ He said, ‘Oh baby, I was going to get you some roses but the light turned green’” — because in L.A., they sell ’em at the freeway. The joke killed. I would feel so dumb doing it now; it’s so elementary.
Then I went out again and did an open mic at a Black club and bombed. I went to the Comedy Act Theater, and I sat around all night long. Joe Torry was the MC, and he was mean as hell to everybody. I grew up in the Valley and was like, “How you guys doing? Is everybody doing good?” They were like, “Bitch, you ain’t funny. Get off the stage.” Then somebody was like, “Look at them big-ass titties.”
I started doing all the Black clubs. D.L. Hughley was like, “The way you talk, you don’t even sound like us.” I literally had to get my Black cadence in.
So you were code-switching?
Exactly, I had to code-switch back to Black. I grew up around white people in the suburbs. I always say in white clubs, white people give you an extra six seconds. Black people, you better be funny as soon as you walk on that set. That’s what I learned to do. But even still, even bombing with the tears on my journal, I could not stop being on that stage. It was the only time I could talk about what was going on in my life that I couldn’t share just in regular conversation. After I left the comedy club, I had to drive two and a half hours to San Bernardino to drive my mom around because she was in so much pain. Stand-up was my escape, and it is even now, even though a lot of people don’t know I do it.
Female stand-up comics like Ali Wong often discuss how famous male comedians have groupies that they call “chuckle fuckers” and how it’s a completely different energy for women comics.
I didn’t like being on the road because all the comics want to sleep with you. I always tell girls, “Don’t sleep with these comics because it will take you ten years to get your reputation back.” It was hard being a girl on the road. Promoters would stiff you.
I would go out with Sheryl Underwood, and she was a mean bitch. When she carried her purse up onstage, she meant it, because people steal your stuff. One time, she took me on the road and told a promoter, “I got a gun in my bag, and I’m gonna shoot up this whole MF-ing club if you don’t give me my money right now.” I go, “Sheryl, we flew out here.” She’s like, “Bitch, shut the fuck up.” She done softened down because she got Jesus.
On the road, it’s literally you in your hotel room scared. You have to make sure you’re not on the first floor. You have to put a chair under your door, because if I talk about being horny onstage, now they are all in my face. Male comics would leave because they got with some girl, and I would get stuck at the club. The bartender could give me a ride home, but he’s saying I got to sleep with him. I didn’t like that. So I delved more into acting, which took off for me before stand-up.
You rubbed shoulders with a lot of Black comedy stars before they were household names, like Jamie Foxx and Chris Tucker. What was it like to be there for the early days of their careers?
I knew Chris Tucker when he had pimples all over his face — all of them had it. That’s when you know a comic makes it: Their skin gets real good. Comics were getting sitcoms then, and Chris used to go, “I’m not doing TV. I’m going to do film.” They was like, “Nigga ugly as you is?” When he did Rush Hour, it was like, Oh my God. Then Def Jam came and he started to break out.
I went through two rounds of In Living Color auditions with Jamie; I was so disappointed when I didn’t make it. I didn’t make the auditions for Def Jam Comedy either; I just was too green and wouldn’t have done well in front of a New York audience.
But it was a fun time for everybody and we would just talk and laugh and, along the way, dream.
I remember when Katt Williams came to L.A. Everybody hated Katt because he was so funny; they gave him the hardest time. He would do church crowds for free meals — people couldn’t believe Katt could do a casino, kick it with a bunch of thugs, and do a church. Katt lived with every female comic because he didn’t have anywhere to live. There’s some that fell by the wayside, and there’s some that’s still on the road grinding — but when I see all of these people, I’m just like, Oh my gosh, you made it.
Is it true that you took acting classes with Jeff Goldblum? At Playhouse West in North Hollywood, yes. Jeff Goldblum was one of my teachers, and Blake Lively’s father, Eric Lively, was also. To do the Meisner technique with Jeff Goldblum? I don’t know how I learned anything, trying to get past the fact that my teacher was absolutely beautiful.
Jeff seems like such a ham. Not as a teacher, uh-uh. Not at all. He was a tough taskmaster, and he was very compassionate.
In the ’90s, you had recurring roles in multiple big sitcoms — Everybody Loves Raymond, Suddenly Susan, The Jamie Foxx Show.
People would call me the Black girl in all the white sitcoms. Now it’s par for the course and so wonderful to see. It didn’t used to be like that; I was an anomaly to be called all the time to do these sitcoms. I always like to take risks in auditions or when I’m on the set to get booked. When I auditioned for The Jamie Foxx Show with Jamie, I played Sheila, who was man hungry — I kept sniffing his neck and putting my hand on his leg, and he would move away from me. Jamie loved it, and if you made Jamie laugh, you came back. I was only supposed to be on the show for one episode, and I became Fancy’s (Garcelle Beauvais) best friend and a recurring character.
You also had a memorable role on Friends as museum tour guide Rhonda.
“Hey, it’s Rhonda from P.S. 129! I gave you my snack pack!” They don’t ask me to do it anymore, but on Cameo, they’d always ask me to do Angie’s lines from 30 Rock and Rhonda from Friends, and I would get my little hundred dollars.
The Friends set was notorious for being cliquey and insular. Did it feel that way?
Absolutely, yes. I was doing Suddenly Susan, and the agents that I had at the time fought for me because Friends casting was looking for a white person. I brought the flavor — I think I grabbed my boobs and pushed them together, and they couldn’t stop laughing. That’s why it took so long to get a breast reduction, because these double D’s got me some sitcoms.
Jennifer Aniston was extremely nice and was the first one who walked up to me — she was really good friends with Brooke Shields and said that Brooke told her I was coming over. The others weren’t mean, but it was cliquey — you’re used to being in this family, and you’re not going to talk about a bunch of stuff in front of the guest stars at the table. They were nice and then went on about their business. I did Living Single right after, and it was the same thing. But the entire cast loved what I did — Lisa Kudrow was like, “You’ve got to come back.”
But I felt very lonely being a Black person — I remember the security guard came up to me and was like, “Go on girl.” That meant a lot to me. Back then, you made postcards and sent them to the agents so that they would hopefully call you in for auditions. I sent postcards out that had me in color, and on the back it said, “Friends finally got some color.” Now the mistake that I made was I sent it to the creators of Friends, thinking they would love this. I rue the day I sent that postcard because I thought I would be a recurring character and they never called me back.
Friends co-creator Marta Kauffman did a really apologetic panel somewhere, crying, talking about how she just didn’t realize — I was like, Hmmm.
I heard that after you had the guest gig on Friends, you ended up working as a legal secretary for David Schwimmer’s dad.
It was so depressing because it took me back to, You still haven’t made it. I had just done the episode of Friends the month before, and here I was in Century City. His dad didn’t necessarily recognize me, but he had a poster of them all holding each other on his wall, and I was still living on my girlfriend’s couch in the Jungle off Crenshaw and King, taking the bus.
Sometimes, if other attorneys came in, he would bring them in and go, “This is Sherri Shepherd. She was on my son’s show.” I had to make a choice: Either you’re going to keep going back to being a legal secretary, or you’re going to jump all in and do this. I’m always a believer. There ain’t no plan B; you’ve got to sink or swim. I took the jump, and stuff started coming in.
Fast-forward a couple years, and you booked a role as Tracy Morgan’s wife on 30 Rock. How did that happen?
Tina Fey offered that role to me; I didn’t have to audition. I turned it down at first because Tracy’s wife had no lines. They fully fleshed it out and called me back, and I said “yeah,” and they flew me out from L.A. Tina and Alec Baldwin were always so wonderful to me.
When they picked me up, I had just had ten White Castle cheeseburgers and was really bloated and self-conscious. The first scene was supposed to be me in lingerie during our honeymoon — I called wardrobe, and they really worked with me. Tracy Morgan scared the crap out of me because I had never met with him before. When I walked in, the first thing he said to me was, “I like you. I’m going to get you pregnant.” I was like, I thought that was just a line — you’re serious! He was very flirtatious and fun and weird. We both lived in the Trump building on 60th, and he had a shark tank in his apartment that he was not supposed to have — the guy who played Grizz had given it to him as a gift. One day, the lightbulb exploded, water came down, and all of a sudden it was like Mount Vesuvius in my apartment. I grabbed my wigs, I grabbed some clothes, and I grabbed my son, Jeffrey, all in that order.
Not long after you got the 30 Rock role in 2007, you joined The View when Star Jones left. What persuaded you to go on the show?
They had asked me to take Star Jones’s place before she even left. I had tried to get on The View for years, and they wouldn’t have me, because Bill Geddie didn’t know if I could sit on the couch and talk for five minutes; he didn’t know who I was.
It just so happened that Johnnie Cochran died and Star had to go to his funeral and asked me to be there the next day. I was on bed rest with Jeffrey; I was originally pregnant with twins and had just lost Jeffrey’s sibling, a little girl. My gynecologist said it was not a good idea for me to go. I went anyway and bled the whole way there, and after I came off the stage I had to go to the hospital. That’s probably one of the guilty things I feel; maybe I wouldn’t have had Jeffrey as early as I did had I sat my ass down.
That was just a defining career move for me. Joy Behar liked me so much and asked for me back — I had just found out my then-husband was cheating, and I went on there and told everybody. They were like, “She has got diarrhea of the mouth.” I hit so many checkboxes — they loved that I was the Black single mom, funny, and willing to tell everything about my life.
Then Bill said, “We would like to have you on as a regular. Star’s going to leave.” I said, “That’s too messy for me” and said “no.” Then Barbara Walters called me and I said “no” — the second or third time she asked me and I said “no,” she said, “Good-bye, dear.” They didn’t call me back for about nine months; Bill had to talk to Barbara because she holds stuff for a long time.
Then they didn’t want to give me no money; I would have made more in a sitcom, and I got a boy with special needs. Then all kinds of articles were coming out that I was being difficult, and I had to deal with the tabloids. Rosie O’Donnell called and was like, “Let me tell you what everybody’s making — I make $2 million, Joy makes $500,000, Elisabeth Hasselbeck makes $500,000, so you need to ask for $2 million.” They had offered me $400,000. I eventually made a million, too. I always will credit Rosie O’Donnell for being free with that.
You were now doing live television in one of the more volatile eras of The View — tension among castmates and things leaking to the press. What was it like to cut your teeth in that environment?
It was the best and the worst of the learning curve. When I came on that show, I had never voted before because of my Jehovah’s Witness upbringing. Even though I wasn’t active, the teachings still stayed with me. Everything that I learned not to do — don’t argue with your elders, don’t debate — was something I had to do every day with Whoopi Goldberg and Barbara Walters right there. I never had to debate what I believed — I learned in church that what the pastor and the Bible said is what it said.
Everybody knows the evolution story — I just zoned out, I don’t know. I know the Earth is round — I was so nervous sitting at that table. I didn’t realize the power and gravitas of The View until I was told Bill O’Reilly called me a pinhead; Barbara went, “Read a book, for God’s sake.” I was defending Sarah Palin a lot because she has a special-needs child. When I first got on the show, I had the most favorable reviews from Black women — after that, Barbara Walters said, “Black women hate you,” and I cried so hard. They would all get on me except Elisabeth; I always felt like I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. It was tough trying to find air space. I can’t debate you on politics, but I learned to make myself concise and funny.
That was my training ground. Whoopi was tough on me, and I really thought she didn’t like me. I see now it was just love; she just didn’t want me to go through what she went through. Barbara was hard on me, and I cried for those three years; she was always saying something to get under my skin, and I now think she was pushing me. If you don’t learn to speak up with Barbara, she’s going to eat you alive; that’s all she respects. On my last day, Barbara said she loved me and said, “You learned the most.”
Are you still close with any of your View co-hosts? Elisabeth was a bridesmaid at your wedding.
Yes, she was. That bitch Joy Behar got married on the same day as me [laughs]. We are still close, I stay with her in the Hamptons, except she turns off all the lights like old people so she ain’t no fun. Whoopi didn’t attend my wedding, I think because she didn’t like my husband at the time.
Elisabeth and I have always been very close, but it’s been a little bit more difficult with this administration because I have to know where you stand, and it’s very hard for me if I know that you’re on that side. So we are not as close. But she was my praying buddy — when Bill Maher, who spoke badly about me, came on, she came into my room and went, “I will bring him to his knees.” It’s like a sisterhood; you stay in touch with everybody because we know how difficult it was, especially the ones that were with Barbara.
After The View, you created your own series, Sherri, that ran for a season in 2009 on Lifetime. What was it like to create a show loosely based on your own life story?
The whole script was my story — my stand-up word for word. When my then-husband cheated on me with a white girl, I went to the stage and talked about it as catharsis. Jamie Foxx was there with his manager at the time and came up to me. He said, “Is all that true? You really wanted to kill him and called the girl?” I said, “yeah,” and he told me, “You need to keep doing this onstage; this is good.” I met with two executive producers and told them everything that happened; they said, “That’s a show.” By the way, we get along famously now — her kids are at the house with Jeffrey now.
My best friend Niecy Nash auditioned to be my best friend and didn’t get it — I remember she was so indignant, like, “I ain’t never had to audition to play me before.” They hired somebody else who looked exactly like my husband, and he got fired that same day — that’s when I learned you got to be TV beautiful [snickers] — and got Malcolm-Jamal Warner, who had been in Malcolm and Eddie. He always said that us being together made people look at him in a different way. He wasn’t considered a leading man before that.
Malcolm-Jamal Warner recently died, and everyone seems to have nothing but amazing things to say about him. What was it like working together?
I was devastated. He truly was one of the good ones, just a shining light. He didn’t ride on the “I’m from the Cosby Show, therefore I should be getting —.” He came in so humble and loyal. The only thing he wanted was to direct; that was one of the things that he negotiated in his contract. He would send me notes going, “I’m real proud of you, sis.”
Now you finally have your own talk show, Sherri. Did The View prepare you for this platform?
When they asked me, I was completely ready. I went out trying to get a talk show after I left The View, and nobody was interested. Then I got Dish Nation, which taught me how to be in a studio by myself with the folks in Atlanta — Gary With Da Tea and Da Brat — during COVID, and I was doing game shows and stand-up. So by the time I first filled in for Wendy Williams, I was ready. All the people that had sat in for Wendy that first time — Nick Cannon, Keke Palmer, Jerry O’Connell — got deals, and I was devastated because I had an offer that was withdrawn. I would take my sizzle reel around and was dismissed. And then I was called to come back in and knocked it out the park, and they offered me a deal very shortly thereafter.
The day before I started the show, I had an anxiety attack and said, “How am I going to be different from everybody else?” Jennifer Hudson was starting the same day; Tamron was on the air. But I knew what I wanted to do and how I wanted this talk show to be. Normally talk shows take a year to develop; we did ours in 30 days.
Did you watch The Wendy Williams Show at all prior to hosting? There’s obviously a huge tone change between the Wendy Williams era and the Sherri Shepherd era.
Absolutely; Wendy was like your hidden secret. With Wendy, you always felt like, I would hang out with you, and I know you would hang out with me. She was the one talk-show host that would say what everybody was thinking. That wasn’t necessarily good when it’s your personal life, but for fans, you are feeding the beast. When this stuff happened with Diddy, I was like, Damn it, I want to see Wendy.
So yeah, I watched it — except when she would talk about me. Then it wasn’t so fun [laughs]. She used to call my ex-husband “the Wildebeest“; one time I was eating my cereal with my assistant, and she said I wasn’t attractive enough to do television. I was like, Well, that’s not nice.
Both you and Wendy had to endure a lot of public commentary about your marriages.
I felt for her; everything was so public. Everybody ain’t happy for you; some people just want to bring you down. I know how that feels to wax on about your husband and how much y’all love each other; it’s embarrassing. That’s why this time around, I could be in a relationship for ten years — you’re never going to know about it. I done learned. I am not going to be scrubbing pictures off and have people bring back the words that I spoke.
Your transition came with a lot of attention, partly because of how abruptly Wendy’s show got canceled. How did that make you feel?
That was hard because people turn on you. For me, I came from The View, where Joy said to me, “The moment you open your mouth and give your opinion, you are going to lose half the audience; they’re going to hate you, no matter what you say.” People are fickle. When I was auditioning, I got nothing but “Everybody loved me,” and the same people turned. That’s why I believe God gave it to me at this age, because all of that stuff didn’t bother me. I had to prove to people that I’m different, that I’m not trying to take Wendy’s place. And going into the fourth season, I know that I have done that. Every once in a while, I’ll get comments like, “I hate you, you’ll never be Wendy.” But there were a lot of celebrities that wouldn’t have come on the show because they were scared to. I get people on the show that asked to come here.
In the last few months, Wendy has been in the public eye more. We don’t fully know what’s going on with her medically, but have you been able to have a conversation with her? No, I have not talked to her. People keep thinking that everybody in the industry is friends. We were never friends; I was a guest on her talk show. I don’t even know how to get in touch — but the prayers are the same as everyone else’s. Nobody wants to see anybody suffer.
Do you worry about upsetting friends and peers with your platform?
I am part of this industry, and I am still an actress beyond this. I do want to work. So when people say, “You should have asked this” — no, I shouldn’t. I’m still a part of this community. I don’t ever brag that celebrities are not my friends. I’ve been in this too long. A lot of bloggers will get on me about how they could do a better job on this show than me. You probably wouldn’t be on the air. This is why people want to come, because when they come, they go, “I had fun.” And at the end of the day, I got to look at God. So I do want people to know it’s just safe here. It’s fun.
Do you have a favorite guest? You can’t say Niecy Nash.
Niecy is not my favorite. She has come on this damn show so many times. One of my favorites was John Lithgow. Lenny Kravitz came, and I love that he was willing to play with me. Method Man came, and I am such a fan of his. Katt Williams never interviews with anybody, and he came on. My favorite guests are ones that I can just have fun with.
I can’t even say Vice-President Kamala Harris — I was so damn nervous I couldn’t even smile. Although she did call me on the phone and left a message: She said, “Hey Sherri, this is Vice-President Kamala, and girl, I’m watching you right now and you have me cracking up laughing.” I sent that message to everybody.
One of my favorites was Oprah Winfrey, because she said “no,” so I sent all the stats and I said, “This is where I’m at in syndication with Black women, and this is the audience you need to reach, Oprah.” Not saying nothing against the other ones, but my audience is the people. She called me a week later. It was the highlight of my life when she said, “I’m passing the baton,” knowing that I watched her and was on her show when I was in my 20s talking about somebody cheating on me.
I know that you like to make your space positive and welcoming, but on your show you talked about a run-in with a celebrity, at the premiere of the recent Broadway production of Othello, who confronted you for “shading her a lot” on her show. While you kept the interaction anonymous, the press later figured out you were talking about Nia Long. What goes through your mind when these kinds of moments become hot topics?
What goes through my mind is I don’t want another moment like that. I have worked too hard with this career to be involved in messy, which is why I originally never said a name. But I do stand-up comedy, and this is my stage. Everything that goes on in my life is material for when I sit in that chair; anything that happens to me is content.
We’re both loved as Black women, and I didn’t like that everybody took a team — Team Sherri, Team Nia. It was too divided, and I didn’t weigh in on it. I looked at it on the internet and was like, This is something that could be taken care of in ten minutes. That’s why I was so upset — because, girl, I had you. I specifically talked about her split from NBA coach Ime Udoka, and it wasn’t in a salacious way — it was to let folks know you deserve to be treated better and we’re standing behind you. So for somebody to look at me and say, “You shade me a lot,” it really was disconcerting. It never happened, and I think you’re just confusing me with, maybe, my predecessor. Now it’s a note to self: When you say an unnamed celebrity, people are really going to go digging for that person.
How do you handle criticism for comments you may have made on the show? I’m thinking of the backlash to what you said about how Megan Thee Stallion and Zoë Kravitz were dressed at the Vanity Fair Oscars party this year.
With Meg Thee Stallion, I knew I was going to get backlash — and I prefaced it with “I love Meg Thee Stallion.” I probably shouldn’t have been listening to “WAP”; Jeffrey knows all the lyrics just like me. But at this season in my life, I think about what legacy I want to leave this earth. I have such a heart for young girls and I work with so many who don’t understand the business. We love and adore Meg; you went and made women want to go get their degree. And I felt like for her, you don’t have to dress like that. I had to step up and say something.
You also chose to interview Jonathan Majors after he had been convicted of misdemeanor third-degree assault and second-degree harassment. What was your thinking there?
I’ve always been a fan of Jonathan Majors; he’s an amazing actor. I don’t have a journalism degree, so it would be completely off brand for me to be going, “What about this and what about that?” I wanted to hear his side of the story. I’ve always been a person who is a believer in grace and second chances — and I want to give you a space to come on and say how you feel. And I love Meagan Good, and I also wanted to honor her because I know that a lot of people were against her for even partnering up with Jonathan. I wanted to give people a chance to see the other side of him. I would love to have Chris Brown on, but it’ll be a lot of backlash. Sometimes it comes with the territory. I was prepared for it with Jonathan.
Do you feel like you’ve gotten your due? What would it look like to get that? I don’t think I agree with “got my due” because we are blessed to be able to do what we love to do. What feels nice is that people remember me. I’m very thankful to still be relevant and people not going, “You remember Sherri Shepherd? She was that girl.”