BY IRVIN RIVERA

Jerrie Johnson doesn’t just play a role—she breathes life into it. As Tye Reynolds in Harlem, Tracy Oliver’s sharp and hilarious ode to Black sisterhood, Johnson embodies a woman who is as bold in business as she is guarded in love. Tye is smooth, ambitious, and never one to fold under pressure—qualities that hit close to home for Johnson. “Tye isn’t from Philly, but her hometown mirrors the struggle of people getting stuck,” she shares. “Her perseverance—her drive to keep moving forward—came naturally to me, and it’s a part of my own story, too.”

Off-screen, Johnson moves with just as much purpose. Whether she’s building a community around her annual fasting tradition, dreaming up a queer-friendly travel app, or reflecting on the power of cultural preservation, she’s always creating, always pushing forward. And just like Johnson, Tye is evolving, too. “Fans can expect to see Tye looking inward more deeply this season,” she teases. “She starts actively trying to make different choices… which leads her closer to what she’s been seeking all along.”

What’s keeping you creative recently? 

I’ve been doing great! Recently, I’ve been prepping to release my Fasting Guide at the start of the New Year. Every year, starting the first full week of January, I host a group fast with people I love. This will be our ninth year, and the community has been growing. We share recipes, hold each other accountable, and set intentions together. 

Because I’ve been doing this for so long and have explored so many types of fasts, I thought it was time to create a guide to help others. People have been asking for some of my recipes for years, so I’m excited to finally share them. I also wanted to put together something I wish I’d had when I started—a resource to avoid all the trial and error I went through. 

Reflecting on your journey from Philadelphia to starring in Harlem, how have your personal experiences influenced your portrayal of Tye Reynolds? 

As soon as I read the script, I could feel inspiration from my people back home guiding me as I lifted Tye off the page. Tye has this smoothness we call “Thurl” in Philly. There’s also a bullheaded determination and grit directly connected to where I grew up—a place we call “The Concrete Jungle.” It was a tough environment to grow up in and even tougher to leave. 

Tye isn’t from Philly, but her hometown mirrors the struggle of people getting stuck. Her perseverance—her drive to keep moving forward—came naturally to me, and it’s a part of my own story, too. 

Harlem showcases the complexities of Black sisterhood. How has working alongside Meagan Good, Grace Byers, and Shoniqua Shandai enriched your understanding of those dynamics? 

Grace, Shoniqua, and Meagan are my sisters, on and off the screen. There was a natural synchronicity among the four of us right from the chemistry read. We had this unspoken love and trust without needing to “earn” it. Some people come into new relationships with walls up, needing trust to be built, which I understand. But when you come open from the start, beautiful things happen. That’s what we did—we were open, and we became mirrors for each other. 

Our friendship is healing. I’m a better friend because of this sisterhood. I’ve developed a deeper understanding of showing up and sticking together, and we’ve built something powerful off-screen. One tradition that stands out is how we pray together at the start of every season—for each other, for the set, and for the show. That was new for me, but it’s made such a difference for us and for everyone we work with. 

Tye is a trailblazing queer Black woman in tech. What aspects of her character resonate most with you, and how do you prepare to represent her experiences authentically? 

Tye and I are both go-getters. Coming from Philly, being number five of seven kids, the first in my family to go to college, and the only one to leave my hometown—it’s safe to say I wasn’t supposed to be where I am today. But determination and will push me beyond what I saw growing up. Comfort zones don’t exist for me, and Tye shares that same drive. She had to break barriers to achieve her success at a young age, just like I’ve had to. 

When getting into Tye’s mindset, the costume always helps. Her fashion is a big part of her identity, and I loved being a collaborator in building her wardrobe. Her style even inspires my personal style—it’s a give and take. 

The series delves into themes of identity and self-discovery. How has portraying Tye challenged or affirmed your perspectives on these topics? 

Playing Tye has been a fluid process for me as a non-binary person. That said, I’ve been intentional about making sure Tye’s journey is unique to her. Tye is a queer woman who is masculine-presenting, but I didn’t want that to rob her of her femininity. She’s more rigid than I am, more skeptical, and more emotionally unavailable—especially in relationships. Her unresolved family trauma is a big reason for that. 

I had to identify those key differences between us because they make our self-discovery journeys unique. My challenge was learning to justify Tye’s decisions in a way that made sense for her, without judging those choices.

Season 3 picks up after a major cliffhanger. Without giving spoilers, how has Tye’s journey evolved, and what can fans expect from her arc? 

Fans can expect to see Tye looking inward more deeply this season. She starts actively trying to make different choices than she has in the past, which leads her closer to what she’s been seeking all along. 

Fashion plays a significant role in Harlem, reflecting each character’s personality. How does Tye’s style mirror her evolution, and what input do you have in her wardrobe? 

Wardrobe is a collaborative process, and I love that. For example, the rolled-up beanie? That was all me. Tye’s style is what I call “Upscale EurBrooklyn.” She loves European-cut suits, Jordans, long designer coats, and tactile fabrics. Her look reflects her creativity, which she doesn’t always get to express in tech, but it also connects to her profession. 

Throughout the seasons, we see Tye experimenting more with the balance of masculine and feminine elements as she becomes more open with herself. Her wardrobe evolves as her business grows, too—subtle changes in the quality and polish of her style reflect that. 

Beyond acting, you’re passionate about technology and app development. How has playing a tech entrepreneur influenced your aspirations in the field? 

Art imitates life and vice versa. I’ve always been an idea person, so I knew I’d express my purpose in multiple ways. Playing Tye got me thinking about creating my own app—a kind of “Green Book” for queer POC. It would map out queer-friendly spaces across the country and the world, helping people find safe places to connect with locals beyond hookup culture. Where are the queer poetry slams? The underground gay dive bars? Those are the places I’d want to go, and they’re often hard to find. 

Tye has been a confirmation for me that I can do anything I set my mind to. Even landing this role in Harlem straight out of school was a manifestation of that. 

Mental health is a recurring theme in your discussions. How do you prioritize your well-being amidst your career demands, and what practices have been most beneficial?

I’ve had to develop the skill of “considering the repercussions of my yes.” I’m naturally a “put me in, coach” kind of person, but saying yes too quickly has put me in compromising situations. Now, I give myself time to think things through before agreeing to anything. This slows down my impulsiveness and gives me space to make better decisions. 

Another practice is trusting my instincts. There are so many voices around you in this industry, but I make sure mine is the loudest and gets the final say. 

Here’s the edited version of your responses. I’ve clarified your points while maintaining your authentic voice and tone. 

You’ve been candid about financial anxieties and the pressures of success. How do you navigate these challenges, and what advice would you offer to others facing similar concerns? 

Whew. I always say I wish there were an “initiation” when you enter this industry—people to teach you what to do with your money and tell you who to turn to for advice. I didn’t have a financially savvy family. We were poor, on welfare, and we definitely weren’t having conversations about managing money. For the longest time, I was the only one in my immediate family with a bank account. Even my older sister, who was in the military, was trying to figure it out herself. 

Because of that, I didn’t have the support system I needed for the financial transition that came with this career. Now, I make it a point to have candid conversations with my friends breaking through in the industry. I tell them everything I wish someone had told me and create an open channel for us to share resources. It’s so important to break that cycle of not having access to financial knowledge, especially for Black women. 

“Harlem” addresses societal issues such as gentrification and cultural preservation. How do these themes align with your values, and what conversations do you hope the show sparks? 

We’re in a time where there is a deliberate erasure of Black culture and Black history—whether through gentrification, systemic neglect, or the rewriting of narratives. Places like Harlem are sacred because they hold the energy of movements that shifted the culture and shaped who we are as a people. Preserving that legacy isn’t just about the past; it’s about ensuring future generations know the power and beauty of what came before them.

Harlem was the heartbeat of a Black Renaissance that gave us poets, artists, musicians, and thinkers who defined eras. That type of cultural hub doesn’t just happen—it’s born out of struggle, resilience, and communal brilliance. Keeping the integrity of places like Harlem intact is a responsibility we all share, especially as Black people.

I’ve seen firsthand how gentrification has changed the neighborhoods I grew up in, erasing landmarks that held our stories. That’s why I’ve become an archivist for my own family lineage—documenting where we come from so that it’s not forgotten. I want to know the stories, the struggles, the triumphs, and pass them down. Because when you know where you come from, you move differently in this world.

I have friends who are deeply committed to preserving their hometowns, reclaiming their spaces, and fighting for cultural integrity, and I stand with them. I hope this show inspires more Black people to see the value in cultural preservation. I hope it encourages us to hold on to what’s ours—whether that’s family homes, land, or traditions.

And to put it plainly: Don’t sell your grandmother’s house. That land, that home, carries generations of history and struggle. It’s not just property—it’s a legacy. I want this show to spark conversations about ownership, community investment, and the ways we can protect what we’ve built so we can keep building for those who come next.

Let’s honor our ancestors by preserving what they worked so hard to create. 

Your engagement in Jamaica was a beautiful milestone. How has your personal life influenced your professional journey, and vice versa? 

Thank you! My personal life influences my professional life because authenticity is my core value. I bring my whole self into everything I do. I win rooms because I don’t separate who I am in my work and my relationships—I show up fully present in both. 

That said, my professional life has made my personal life more public, which has been interesting to navigate. I don’t mind it, but sometimes people assume they have access to me in ways that lack boundaries. That’s something I’m still learning to reconcile. 

As an advocate for LGBTQ+ representation, how do you perceive the industry’s progress, and what changes would you like to see moving forward? 

I’m excited about the growing number of queer producers and writers creating their own work and telling their own stories. That’s where I think true progress happens—when we stop waiting for others to “choose” our stories and instead carve our own path. 

I’d also like to see LGBTQ+ stories marketed as universal stories, because they are. We are. 

The arts have been a significant part of your life since childhood. How did early experiences in poetry and theater shape your approach to acting? 

The first poem I ever completed was in the fourth grade, and it was about Harriet Tubman. I was so inspired by her strength. I’d been writing to process my emotions for as long as I could remember, but that poem made me feel like a poet. My teachers were impressed and encouraged me to write more. They even started collecting my poems and short stories to publish them in a book. 

By eighth grade, it was clear I was a natural performer. My teacher gave me a poem from For Colored Girls Who Have Considered Suicide / When the Rainbow Is Enuf to perform at an assembly. That book changed my life. It tackled topics I didn’t think you could even talk about in a book.

When I was accepted into The High School for the Creative and Performing Arts (CAPA) for acting, my love for language deepened—especially Shakespeare. Shakespeare is one of the best examples of poetry in direct conversation with acting, and that resonated with me. Theater, on the other hand, taught me stamina and discipline. There’s nothing like live performance—it’s raw, vulnerable, and demanding. There are no do-overs. 

Because of my background in poetry and theater, my acting approach is both raw and refined. I used to call myself a “ratchet Shakespearean”—which might sound like an oxymoron, but it’s the best way to describe it. 

You’ve mentioned the importance of community and mentorship. Who have been your most influential mentors, and how have they impacted your career? 

My most influential mentors are my sisters and colleagues from Harlem. They’ve ushered me so beautifully into this industry. Tracy Oliver treats this project like the sacred work it is, always advocating for our highest good. Latasha Gillespie has taken me under her wing and ensures my name is in rooms I haven’t even stepped into yet—she’s the ultimate connector. 

Lastly, my spirit brother Larryjean is building a community of creatives. He’s a coach, teacher, and resource for so many. Each of them has impacted me in ways that go beyond career—they’ve helped me grow as a person. 

Balancing multiple roles—actor, poet, writer, activist—requires resilience. How do you maintain equilibrium, and what motivates you to pursue diverse creative outlets? 

The most important thing to me is that my story, and the stories of the people who come from where I come from, are told. That goal drives all my creative pursuits. 

As a poet and writer, I get to speak about the things I know intimately. As an activist, I advocate for those who are often forgotten. And as an actor, my presence alone is a radical act of resilience that shows people what’s possible. 

“Harlem” blends humor with poignant storytelling. How do you navigate the balance between comedy and drama in your performance?

I’m a Black queer person who grew up in poverty—my life has always been about balancing comedy and drama. My family is full of jokesters because humor was a way we survived. For Black folks in America, that ability to laugh through the pain is something we develop early. 

When it comes to the show, balancing comedy and drama wasn’t something I had to overthink—it was more about listening to the language and staying true to the moment. There were times I naturally leaned into the dramatic aspects of a scene, but I was encouraged to lighten it up. Those moments fine-tuned a balance that already felt natural to me. 

The show’s setting is rich with cultural history. How has filming in Harlem deepened your appreciation for its legacy, and what have you learned from the community? 

Harlem has held us down. It’s a place with so much history, but it’s also changing, and the natives are sensitive to that. Harlem was the birthplace of a Black renaissance—a cultural movement that hasn’t been replicated before or since. I’ve always admired it for that, but living there during filming gave me an even deeper understanding. I wanted to develop that love honestly by being immersed in its energy. 

Harlem has its own ecosystem. You can get everything you need there, and it’s constantly bustling with life. That nonstop action does something to your spirit just by being in it. While filming, I could feel the presence of Langston Hughes, Zora Neale Hurston, Duke Ellington, Alain Locke, and so many others. I understood why Black folks in the past felt safe enough to settle there, to create lasting art, and why preserving its history is so important. 

This show brought me to a place I needed to be—not just for the work, but for my own spiritual growth. For that, I am forever grateful. 

You’ve spoken about dismantling internalized narratives and embracing authenticity. How has this personal work influenced your portrayal of Tye and your interactions on set? 

With Tye, I wanted to avoid leaning into stereotypes while still being an honest reflection of queerness. That required intentionality in how I approached her character and the nuances of her identity.

On set, I don’t code-switch. That’s an important value for me because I’m in a position to expand people’s capacity for diversity—not just in terms of race, but in terms of identity and experience. It’s also an opportunity to challenge assumptions people might have about individuals from the “hood.” I’m always kind and considerate because those are my values, but I don’t change my presentation for anyone else’s comfort. 

Season 3 introduces new challenges for the characters. How did you prepare for the emotional depth required, and what scenes were particularly transformative for you? 

In many ways, my life was paralleling Tye’s journey in Season 3, so I had real-life experiences to pull from. I’d also been building up to these moments for two seasons, so the emotional depth felt earned. 

One of the most transformative aspects of the season was Tye finally addressing her family—something that had been the elephant in the room for the first two seasons. Navigating those moments was interesting because, no matter how I feel about my own family, I couldn’t imagine leaving and never looking back. That forced me to dig deeper and understand Tye’s perspective on a level that stretched me as both an actor and a person. 

In previous interviews, you’ve discussed the significance of manifestation in your life. How has this practice influenced your career trajectory and personal growth? 

Manifestation has meant everything to me because it’s the one thing that’s completely free. It’s something I was doing before I even knew what it was. In high school, we had to recite a poem every day at the start of class called There Is Inside You. That poem stayed stuck in the back of 

my psyche, memorized, and years later I went back to it. I realized it was a powerful proclamation of manifestation, something I’d unknowingly been reciting every morning. That’s when the shift started. 

Since then, I’ve manifested everything I have now. It’s not something I take for granted, especially considering the lack of resources and support I’ve had throughout my life. Manifestation, for me, is about trusting a Source beyond myself—it’s been an act of faith and focus.

The entertainment industry is ever-evolving. How are you adaptable, and what future projects or roles are you passionate about exploring? 

As an actor, adaptability is a must. I’ve had 17 years of training in adaptability, starting from the day I first stepped on stage to act. Each role, each opportunity, has taught me how to embrace change and remain flexible. 

I’m particularly excited about my first movie and the abundance that I know will surround it. I’m also eager to play a superhero—or a villain—in a movie that my nieces and nephews can watch and enjoy. It’s important to me that they understand what I do and can connect with it in a way that’s fun and meaningful for them. 

“Harlem” has garnered a dedicated fan base. How do you engage with your audience, and what feedback has been most impactful? 

I always try to engage with Black women when I see them, especially when they’re excited about the show. I want them to feel an extension of the Black female friendships they hold dear. It’s such a joy when someone says, “Y’all are just like my friend group.” That tells me we’ve created something honest and specific enough for a variety of women to see themselves in our characters. 

The feedback that’s stuck with me the most is all the “Who’s pregnant?” questions I get. It means fans are still hanging on to that cliffhanger, and I can feel their anticipation. I’m excited for everyone to finally get answers when the new season airs. 

As an artist committed to social causes, how do you leverage your platform to advocate for issues close to your heart? 

I recently visited the Cuyahoga County Juvenile Detention Center in Cleveland, Ohio, with Campaign Zero. I spoke to over 80 kids, ages 13 to 18, about my life and what I do. The goal is to create change, inspire, and humanize these young people. But honestly, the effect they have on me is just as powerful. 

This work is personal to me—two of my brothers and my father are incarcerated. Those kids remind me of the kids I grew up with in North Philly, my family, and the community I hope to

inspire through my work. It’s important for me to show up for them because they need to see real-life examples of people who made it out. They need to know it’s possible. 

I’m also passionate about fresh food accessibility and finding ways to make healthy, nutritious food more readily available to underserved communities. 

Looking back on your career thus far, what moments are pivotal, and how have they shaped your aspirations moving forward? 

One pivotal moment was walking onto the Harlem set and realizing it was exactly what I had manifested. The energy, the look, the camaraderie—it all felt like something I had envisioned. What’s more, veteran actors on set mentioned that they’d never experienced a set as safe and joyful as this one and warned me not to get used to it. 

But I know that when I was manifesting my dream job, I wasn’t just visualizing the work—I was manifesting how I wanted it to feel and how I wanted to feel doing it. That’s what this experience affirmed for me: I can continue to manifest roles that not only expand my career but also enrich my life and support my spiritual growth. 

What life lessons have you learned through your journey in “Harlem,” and how do they inform your vision for the future? 

I’ve learned that I know more than I think I do and that trusting my instincts is key. I’ve also realized I have a gift that goes far beyond acting—something I don’t quite have language for yet but that people feel when they’re around me. 

This experience has shown me that performance is the vessel through which I can create universal change. It’s expanded my vision for the future because I’ve already accomplished so much of what I initially dreamed. Now, I’m focused on being even more specific about what I want to give to the world. 

Harlem has also taught me the true importance of Black female friendships. They are some of the most honest, nurturing, and all-encompassing relationships you can have. That perspective is something only Black women can offer, and it’s a gift I’ve come to treasure even more deeply through this journey.

Lastly, if you were a book, what book would you be and why? 

If I were a book, I’d be Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde. That book is one of the first representations of a Black lesbian intellectual, and it’s an anthology of her most profound work. I see myself in that. At first glance, my story may not seem like a linear thread, but when you read through, you’ll find I’m a collection of moments, all connected by the same through line: to liberate, to change, to inspire, and to move. 

Like Momma Lorde, I want my work to be active—to spark action, to encourage, and to inspire those alongside me and those coming after me to walk their own path of liberation. The title itself also speaks to me. It captures how I’ve felt throughout most of my life—not in a sad way, but in a way that’s been a constant source of excitement. It’s a reminder that being on the outside often brings perspective, clarity, and power.