Quintessa Swindell Breaks the Rules, Then Makes Their Own

Quintessa Swindell isn't afraid of a punk-ass bitch. At least, that's the vibe I get when they launch into a tirade about the time they chased down the thief that snatched their motorcycle in Los Angeles minutes after we met for the first time. In between bites of egg whites and steak ("I'm loading up," they joke, nodding to their exhaustive physical training routine) comes one of my first impressions of the 28-year-old actor: They are an open book. It's this kind of casual and forthright dialogue that leaves me feeling like we've been friends for years. This week's conversation that made it out of the group chat is about that time they chased down a burly biker on the streets of Koreatown.

"I hate theft, and I start screaming on the street, 'Who the fuck decided to take my bike?'" Swindell says while sitting across from me in a plush red-leather booth at Balthazar. The restaurant is the kind of old-timey establishment that attracts eager tourists and old financier types during the morning meeting rush. The fact that we both obviously don't fit in—me in my Paloma Wool knit covered in female breasts and Swindell, who has hand tattoos, in black trackpants and a hoodie—is what makes our conversation feel like we're living in our own universe. There's a devilish smirk on their face when they tell me what happens next: "The guy who stole it was, like, twice my size, and I just squared up. I said it was mine, and I was taking it back." The man acquiesced, but not before the actor noticed his hands were shaking. (Mental note: Don't mess with Quintessa Swindell.)

Although Swindell's demeanor might appear docile upon first glance and their soft smile and petite frame may suggest they'll stand down at the sight of conflict, they've been fighting—both literally and figuratively—for their entire life. As a nonbinary actor who uses both they/them and he/him pronouns, pickings of roles are slim in Hollywood, and amid a new presidential administration hell-bent on denying the rights of Swindell and their trans brothers and sisters, the stakes have never been higher. In the face of chaos, Swindell is choosing to move swiftly and with intention, starting with their projects. Currently, the actor is starring in Prime Target, a new Apple TV+ government conspiracy thriller that's the actor's largest foray into "big streaming." Swindell plays Taylah Sanders, a Gen Z–coded, slick-talking NSA agent who embroils herself in a multicountry conspiracy. The words "badass" and "government worker" usually don't exist in the same sentence, but Sanders is exactly that, hacking through high-level systems and diving into the sea to avoid assassination attempts. It's through the subversion of stereotypes that Swindell knew the project was perfect for them.

"I've never seen someone who looks like me be in that type of role ever," they explain. After meeting with director Brady Hood, who assured Swindell that it was a deliberate choice to cast a queer, biracial actor to play the role, they were on board. "Showcasing diversity in thrillers … that's what I set out to do. I don't want to make a run-of-the-mill project," they say.

Prime Target follows collegiate mathematician Edward Brooks, played by One Day's Leo Woodall, who unfurls a decades-long mystery in a quest to understand links between prime numbers. If, like me, you need your phone calculator to do basic computations, don't worry—the math takes a back seat in the show as Woodall's and Swindell's characters' high-value stunts and action sequences push the narrative forward. It was the show's physical element that was a second selling point in Swindell signing on to the series. "I love learning a skill and having to put that to work," they say. "If you find a skill and craft that, you honor that, and [you] film it, it's the most authentic visual storytelling there is. There's no lie. It's very honest, and it's something I want to do more of."

Physicality, however, isn't simply a means to an end for Swindell in preparing for a project. It's also a gender-affirming life raft. While training for their role as Cyclone in the DC hero movie Black Adam, Swindell felt closer to their body than ever before. Long hours in the gym weren't just about building strength and muscle to give off the appearance of having a body that could levitate and gut-punch an organized crime syndicate. According to them, every dead lift, chin-up, and plank brought them closer to gender euphoria. "A few trans people have mentioned it, but when they start taking estrogen or testosterone, it's when they start to see themselves, and they become this beautiful, more aligned version of themselves," Swindell says. "For me, that just happens very naturally by way of working out. I loved who I was seeing, so I was like, 'Well shit! I'm not gonna stop.'"

The actor has the same view on fashion, loyally wearing designers like Ann Demeulemeester and Peter Do as an ode to feeling powerful and sexy as a queer person. "It's such a gateway into people seeing who you really are," Swindell explains. "You can look at it and wonder, What's under me? Who am I, really?"

Who they are is an incredibly self-assured person. Swindell has been on the precipice of greatness for quite some time, each step in their professional career made fully on their own terms. After spending time in a publicly funded high school arts conservatory program in Virginia, Swindell dropped out of college and moved to Italy to pursue classical drama training. Then came Trinkets, the Netflix teenage dramedy about high schoolers enrolled in a shoplifters anonymous program. There's a valuable piece of advice Swindell repeats back to me from their time on set, something a guest director told them once after a particularly hard day. "You've got to decide who you're going to be moving forward, or this industry will decide it for you," Swindell explains, alluding to the piles of pilots featuring regurgitated stereotypes about race and gender expression that land in their inbox. If there's one thing you need to know about Swindell, it's that they've got range. Being pigeonholed into playing Black superheroes and one-dimensional queer characters isn't on their to-do list. "I had to say 'Fuck no' to some projects, and saying no means no work," they add. "You have to be definitive and put your foot down. In my mind, saying no is a yes to something way better in the future."

But it's not as if Swindell is waiting for things to happen to them. They are the thing that happens. A week before our interview, Swindell was in Park City, Utah, at the Sundance Film Festival promoting their directorial debut—The Lily (stylized as THE LILY (เดอะลิลลี่)). Described as a character study, the short film follows two childhood best friends turned ring rivals as they compete in a Muay Thai match against each other, spurred by their fathers and generational wounds. Swindell first got the inspiration after seeing a photo of a young girl in a boxing ring while volunteering for charity organizations in Thailand. There are so many movies coming out about female athletes that somehow weren't about them. Sure, they were the focus, but they were exoticizing or hypersexualizing them," Swindell adds. "That's not about women. That's about something else. It's not about their internal struggles or processes." Swindell coyly mentions there's been talk about developing the film into a feature after its positive reception at the indie film fest. It's also only possible if "it's the most brutal, graphic fight film ever made," they state. Noted.

Every project Swindell adds to their plate is with careful consideration, prioritizing their passion for the artistic process above all else. They're early on in the development process for another indie feature film they'd like to produce. There's also a handful of theater shows they've auditioned for in an aim to go back to the place where their love of acting was first born, and there's the music video they're hoping to direct for a female-fronted metal band they stumbled upon and fell in love with. The through line with each of these impending projects is a deep sense that Swindell is pursuing art for the greater good. Every project is much more than a means to an end.

"The stories that people are looking to tell nowadays are so lackluster and not full-bodied stories about young women, which is what I'm usually going to play," Swindell says. "If something comes around that has substance, sure, I'll play it, but what else do I want to do? I have to go ahead and make the opportunities for–" I interrupt to finish their sentence with "for yourself." In typical Swindell fashion, however, it's much greater than that. "It's not even for me. There are so many other other actresses out in this industry who are thinking the exact same thing. So I'm like, 'If I can be that for them, 100% I will be,'" they add.

The great actor, singer, and activist Paul Robeson once said that "artists are the gatekeepers of truth," using their platforms to express society's radical voice. While stage productions, films, and television shows can be revolutionary in their own right, the reality is, like most art, people are what make them great. There's no radical art without radical people at the helm pushing their way forward and opening doors for others to follow them. Community, Swindell urges, is everything. It's at the crux of everything they do—activism, art, organizing. Above all, though, it's about paying homage to themself.

It wasn't always easy, Swindell adds, and they didn't get here by accident. Every role, every opportunity, and every project was fought for tooth and nail. For most people, struggle ultimately leads to impatience, and you might work tirelessly for years on end, only to keep waiting for years for something to stick. The sentiment happens often—just look at Colman Domingo, Jeremy Strong, Demi Moore, and Pamela Anderson, who are all industry veterans who are only just now receiving their flowers. Swindell is more than happy to wait.

"All of these are actors who have been at it for a really long time, and finally, because of one project that fell at the right time, it's changed their entire life," they note. There's a cool nonchalance about the entire situation. Not everything has to be figured out right away, and that's okay. "Maybe I'm one of those. Maybe it won't come tomorrow or next year or the year after that. But I'm in it for the long run," they add.

It takes a deep-seated confidence to know that, eventually, your moment will hit. Swindell isn't worried. In fact, there's almost a sense of liberation in knowing that the passion they have in their career isn't limited to pleasing studio executives in suits. Swindell knows exactly what's in store, and when the moment arrives, they'll appear, gloves up in the ring, ready to take the match head-on. What's more badass than that?

Get the Look

Talent: Quintessa Swindell

Photographer: Danny Kasirye

Writer: Ana Escalante

Stylist: Rachel Gilman

Hairstylist: Nai'vasha

Makeup Artist: Shaena Baddour

DP: Ryan Mitchel