Thank you very much. Thank you very much. Thank you. This town, thank you.

I love you all, but you’ll have to forgive me. 

I’ve lost my voice in screaming and lamentation this weekend, and I have lost my mind 

sometime earlier this year. So I have to read. Thank you, Hollywood Foreign Press, 

just to pick up on what Hugh Laurie said. 

You and all of us in this room really belong to the most vilified segments 

in American society right now. Think about it: Hollywood, foreigners and the press.

But who are we? And what is Hollywood anyway? 

It’s just a bunch of people from other places. 

I was born and raised and educated in the public schools of New Jersey. 

Viola was born in a sharecropper’s cabin in South Carolina, came up in Central Falls, 

Rhode Island. Sarah Paulson was born in Florida, raised by a single mom in Brooklyn. 

Sarah Jessica Parker was one of seven or eight kids from Ohio. 

Amy Adams was born in Vicenza, Veneto, Italy. 

And Natalie Portman was born in Jerusalem. 

Where are their birth certificates? 

And the beautiful Ruth Negga was born in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, 

raised in — no — in Ireland, I do believe, 

and she’s here nominated for playing a small-town girl from Virginia. 

Ryan Gosling, like all the nicest people, is Canadian. 

And Dev Patel was born in Kenya, raised in London, 

is here for playing an Indian raised in Tasmania. 

So Hollywood is crawling with outsiders and foreigners, 

and if we kick them all out, you’ll have nothing to watch but football 

and mixed martial arts, which are not the arts.

They gave me three seconds to say this. 

So an actor’s only job is to enter the lives of people who are different from us 

and let you feel what that feels like, and there were many, many, 

many powerful performances this year that did exactly that, breathtaking, 

compassionate work. But there was one performance this year that stunned me. 

It sank its hook in my heart not because it was good. It was — 

there was nothing good about it, but it was effective, and it did its job. 

It made its intended audience laugh and show their teeth. 

It was that moment when the person asking to sit in the most respected seat in our country

imitated a disabled reporter, someone he outranked in privilege, power, 

and the capacity to fight back. It kind of broke my heart, and I saw it, 

and I still can’t get it out of my head because it wasn’t in a movie. 

It was real life. And this instinct to humiliate when it’s modeled by someone 

in the public platform by someone powerful, it filters down into everybody’s life 

because it kind of gives permission for other people to do the same thing.

Disrespect invites disrespect. Violence insights violence. 

When the powerful use definition to bully others, we all lose. 

Ok. Go on with that thing. OK. This brings me to the press. 

We need the principal press to hold power to account to call them on the carpet 

for every outrage.

That’s why our founders enshrined the press and its freedom in our Constitution. 

So I only ask the famously well-heeled Hollywood Foreign Press and all of us 

in our community to join me in supporting the Committee to Protect Journalists 

because we are going to need them going forward and they’ll need us to safeguard 

the truth.

One more thing. Once when I was standing around on the set one day, 

whining about something, you know, we were going to work through supper 

or the long hours or whatever, 

Tommy Lee Jones said to me, “Isn’t it such a privilege, Meryl, just to be an actor?” 

Yeah, it is, and we have to remind each other of the privilege and the responsibility 

of the act of empathy. 

We should all be very proud of the work Hollywood honors here tonight. 

As my friend, the dear departed Princess Leia said to me once, 

“Take your broken heart. Make it into art.” Thank you, friend.

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