Justin Campbell: When we first started talking about this project, you and I spent a lot of time in preproduction referencing the Divine Feminine. Can you define what that means to you?

Dove Cameron: I think the Divine Feminine is something that can’t be put into words, and that’s why I find so many other ways to express it through my music, in the visuals that I create, and in the way that I live my life. The Divine Feminine, the energy of the Divine Feminine, is beyond words because it’s so much older than words—it’s older than space and time. I’m always trying to find new ways to feel it wholeheartedly so that I embody it, and then other people can feel it and become inspired to step into their own power. It’s a divorce from the curated societal pressures and interpretation of gender, but again, trying to put the Divine Feminine into words is a silly process. That said, it’s a conversation I find myself in a lot. It lives and breathes within me, in the life around me, and in the people that I know. All of this invisible, divine, pulsating energy is everywhere—it’s in the cracks in the sidewalk and in the moments in between moments. It’s just not in commercialism, social media or overt daily interactions. I think everybody takes part in the Divine Feminine; we just call it different things, and we don’t know what name to give it because there isn’t one. It’s like invisible lightning from fingertip to fingertip. It’s what created the world. It’s the original big bang, really, and I’ll be trying to find nonverbal ways to express it forever. Like I said, there are no words, but I find it in dance, in my music, in film, in emotion, in interactions with humans—it’s everything. It’s the currency of the world.

JC: Our shoot was a testament to your dedication as an artist to be vulnerable, both physically and emotionally. It was a true collaboration between artists, and your point of view was critical in making this work. What was the experience like for you?

Dove Cameron: I think the making of our shoot was incredibly based in the Divine Feminine. Just in—I find a lot of freedom in nakedness and in being one with my body. So the experience of the shoot—one that felt so safe, so raw and so collaborative—was magical to me. It was a long time coming, and I love the way I could be nearly nude in so many shots, and how we brought imagery from the Divine Feminine, like doves, into it. I felt very feline, very animal, which I think is very divinity based. Then there was the video shoot where we went from being physically nude to emotionally nude—that was really magical for me. It’s my dream to strip myself away of all learned societally conditioned behaviors, which is a difficult task when they’re everywhere you look. So it’s something that I’m always going to be working on, right? Life is like one long journey of getting back to yourself—back to who you were before you pieced the world together based on society, which is not the same thing as reality, which is not even the same thing as life, but we conflate the three so often. Reality, life and society are barely held together at the seams, and I think we learned a lot about this through the pandemic when everything came crashing down. Society is a very thin construct, and life is everything. The more I can unlearn, the more I can strip away, the more I can get back to the core of who I am, the more I feel like I’m succeeding. I think that’s my current definition of success. Being nude and emotional is just the height of humanity, and I’m happy to live my life as an example of that. The shoot was really, really wonderful for me.

JC: There was a moment when we were filming that you brought out this astounding performance of emotion. It didn’t feel like you were just told “action;” it felt like I was walking into your world and somehow understood exactly how you felt. As a performer, how do you tap into that part of yourself, or where do you go in order to bring that to the screen?

Dove Cameron: Thank you so much for saying that. I find that emotion, vulnerability and presence are, actually, my easiest defaults. The rest of it—the performance of being a part of society, or doing things the way I know is expected, or the social contract we find ourselves in as humans—that’s way more unnatural for me. It feels like I’m contorting myself into a very small box, and I’m holding my body in a position it shouldn’t be in. So I think it’s less difficult for me to tap into vulnerability and emotion than it is to stave it off. Though, I will say, I find it difficult when I’m tapped into social media, or when I’ve been socializing or working every day, and I’ve had no time to tap back into myself and my divinity. What helps is to take a step back and remind myself that none of this is real, that this is all a constructed reality—I have a lot of tattoos to remind me of this. Checking in with myself on a kinetic level, grounding myself, taking my shoes off, getting back to my humanity and making a safe space for myself—these all allow me to tap back into my emotion. And it’s always right there. I never have to reach very far.

JC: You’ve grown up in front of a global audience, and you’ve navigated it with so much grace. What was that experience like for you in terms of discovering yourself as an artist and as a woman?

Dove Cameron: Again, thank you so much for saying that. The experience, for me—discovering myself as an artist and as a woman—has been simultaneously painstaking and grueling, and slower than I would’ve liked. It’s two things: It’s slower than I would’ve liked, and it’s faster than I could’ve dreamed. I felt trapped as a young woman while navigating my personal traumas and my brain forming an understanding of the world. When we watch people on television, I think we forget that they’re a developing human being because we have this interesting, objective, permanent relationship with the people that we see on screen. When we turn the TV off or put our phones away, they no longer exist. We’re not imagining them in their off time, and if we are, it’s because we’re seeing them in their off time—whether that’s through social media, paparazzi, whatever. Even then, you’re still not viewing them as a human; you’re still viewing them as a thinly dimensional human being. You’re not seeing their moments of extreme pain or extreme sorrow, or the loneliness or the therapy sessions; you’re not seeing the death, the funerals, the moments where they think they can’t continue on with life anymore. So I struggled to grant myself permission to be a human being because no one did that for me, which isn’t something that I say with blame. I say it with great understanding. I think it’s very difficult for human beings to imagine the person on the other side of their screen going through pain, especially when we exalt being a celebrity as the highest form of success and happiness, and what everyone should aspire to be. I think we can all acknowledge that celebrities are human, but we’ve spent so much time worshiping. If we, as a society, acknowledged that celebrities are not the ultimate aspiration—that being famous doesn’t make your pain, depression, anxiety, death or the horrible realities of life disappear—that would be bad news for us in our personal life. I can relate to that. I think if we have this perpetual golden promise—that the way to make everything disappear is fame, success and money—then at least there’s an option for that. Even if we never reach it ourselves, society likes knowing that there’s this invisible false promise. And if we take that away, I think people become very disillusioned with what they’re working for. It would make us look at our life decisions and go, “Well, wait a minute. If there’s no clear recipe, then what’s the point in pursuing success at all?” And I think that’s something that we, as a society, should dismantle. I think it’s based on capitalism—but I don’t want to get too derailed. I wanted my success and any validation that came with it to make all of my depression and anxiety, all the death, the trauma, the abuse, disappear, and it didn’t—it didn’t. I pursued my career so hard that I neglected all of my healing, and when everything periodically comes crashing down, I’m reminded that I have to take care of myself as a human being. I can’t just burn myself out and deny myself these human qualities because of my own internalized self-hatred, my self-hatred of my sexuality, my identity, my trauma or my desire to get away from myself. When I’m reminded that I’m human in those moments, I can’t escape that. It’s like that quote, “Where will I go where I will not be.” Success and becoming a celebrity doesn’t make that go away—it doesn’t change that. So it’s been difficult, and I also love my job more than anything. I love the self-discovery that I’m afforded through my job, which is very creative. I love the opportunity to connect with other people who are sensitive, emotional and traumatized—people I relate to. There’s no other community for me, and community is the most important thing in my life. So it’s been interesting. It’s been varied.

JC: Earlier this year, in reference to your song “Boyfriend,” you wrote, “It’s how I felt, feeling heartbroken for the women around me who never saw the fullness and the margin of who they were—any woman who isn’t treated like she’s God’s literal gift.” And I wanted to ask you, because I think it’s often easier to recognize the magic in others than in ourselves, do you see yourself as “full”?

Dove Cameron: Yes. In response to your question about seeing magic in others and not ourselves, and “Boyfriend” being about the worship of women, definitely. When I came to terms with my queerness, the next step was loving, appreciating and becoming my queerness. I was only able to do that because I recognized the divinity and the worthiness within myself. It was in tandem: I could see the divinity in these women because I could see the divinity in myself, and I could see the divinity in myself because I could see the divinity in these women. I also had so much healing to do around hating the fact that I was a woman. I grew up idolizing my father and having a varied relationship with my mother. When I accepted the loss of my father and the pain that came with it, I was able to acknowledge the humanity of my mother and heal my self-hatred. And because of the reflection that was happening with my parents, I could heal my queerness and worship women. A lot of healing happened all at once for me, and I just cracked wide open and saw the magic within me—and everywhere. That’s how it works. Everything’s amplified, back and forth, like a big echo chamber. Our reality is our self and our internal biosphere projected. The healing that happens within is the healing that happens without, and that’s how “Boyfriend” happened.

JC: I was really moved by an essay you penned on identity vs. self, and the struggle you have making space for both to exist in harmony. Do you think music is the path towards finding that balance?

Dove Cameron: Yes. Regarding the essay, that struggle is something that keeps me up at night, wakes me up in the morning, tortures me and excites me. I constantly feel like I’m at a crossroads between identity and self because they’re conflated, and they’re not the same. So much of me finds so much power in identity, and then sometimes I burn out on identity, and I just want to return to being nothing and no one, which is what I really am at my core. There’s an amazing quote about that. Something about—I’d have to find it, but the crux of being an artist is the desire to express and the desire to hide. It’s those two things that propel me into making things. The fascination with the created identity and the authentic qualities that spur a created identity, right? A created identity is not evil. It’s necessary. It’s part of life, but it can’t take over so much that you forget that you actually have no identity, and you really are just the self, the presence, the watcher and the awareness. Those two things rubbing up against each other is what art is all about—it’s parsing those two things and finding the avenue in which you express yourself most naturally without losing yourself to it, and making that avenue an extension of the self. It’s the dance between wanting to communicate and hide at the same time. It’s really difficult, and it’s also hugely rewarding. I think those two things together create good media, good music, because they’re the modes we have to express ourselves and communicate with others. If it’s successful, it’s the grandest feeling. You just have to keep a grip on what’s real, which is your divinity and the eternal energy that is you—that could never be bottled and distilled down to a created identity.

JC: Who are you when you’re alone?

Dove Cameron: When I’m alone, I’m no one. I think being utterly at peace when we’re alone is the highest aspiration we should all reach for. When we’re alone, we’re aware that we’re pure consciousness and pure presence. Sometimes when I’m alone, and I’m anxious, I’m someone, and that is painful for me. But when I’m alone, and I’m tapped in, and I have the wisdom and the cognizance to remember that none of this is real, and it’s all created, I’m no one. That’s the highest of all aspirations—to be no one, and then to enjoy life as someone.

JC: What parts of yourself are you still discovering?

Dove Cameron: My limitlessness. This is what I journal about: the funny habit that fear has of impeding our full potential. That’s not a revelatory idea, but I’ll be discovering myself forever because I’m limitless, just like everyone else is limitless. It’s the understanding and the belief that you’re limitless that allows you to discover yourself forever. There aren’t any parts—it’s everything. Everything that exists in the world exists within me. So I’ll be going forever until this body gives out.

JC: How do you keep yourself grounded in an industry that waivers between extreme rejection and adoration?

Dove Cameron: I keep myself grounded in the industry by remembering that this is such a funny, strange performance we’ve all signed on for—knowing that it’s all just humans being silly and making things up as they go. I do think there are parts of the industry that are based in divinity, creation and all these amazing things, and those are the things that I gravitate towards. I have a hard time doing anything that isn’t that, but so much of the industry is falsified and ego based, and that’s the stuff I stay away from. I’m lucky. I’m not attracted to that stuff, so I have good boundaries with ego-related stuff. If I have to take part in it, I get through it and protect myself from it, but I understand that it’s a job. If there are things I’m super attracted to, because they’re full of light and creation, then I go that way. I think I’m super lucky. It’s like having a food allergy to something that’s bad for you. I don’t even want to eat it. And again, ego is fear. Ego is not beauty, and that’s one thing that our society gets backwards. They have this whole thing about vanity, but there’s no such thing as vanity. Either you’re fearful and controlling your image, and it’s coming from a place of negativity, or you’re full of joy, love and light, and you’re celebrating beauty. When I say I’m not interested in participating in the ego-related part of the industry, that’s not a distilled definition. That’s not me saying I don’t enjoy being beautiful, feeling beautiful or celebrating things that some people would call vain. I don’t think there’s such a thing as vanity because I’ve grown out of hating myself in that way. I want people to celebrate themselves because I celebrate myself, and I think it’s wonderful. I invite everyone to do the same. So yes, it’s pretty easy for me. The only thing that depresses me about the industry is the loneliness that comes from people feeling trapped in the cycle of fear—that can permeate everything.

JC: What has been your most memorable Hollywood moment?

Dove Cameron: I think it was winning the Emmy—that was something I never saw for myself, but I also just celebrated winning Best New Artist at the VMAs last weekend. That was also something I never saw for myself. I mean, how many people have done that? Twenty-two, 23, 24 other people? I was looking at the list, and Lady Gaga was on it. I can’t seem to wrap my head around that. It’s things like this that are really singular to me. They just are, by definition, but it’s such an honor. I don’t think I’ll ever understand it, but those moments are all that they’re hyped up to be because I’m not waiting for them to change my life. A lot of people talk about winning awards and say it’s not all it’s cracked up to be. It’s not that it changes your life, it’s just such a humbling experience to be honored by people—your peers or a committee of people who do this for a living—who love what you do. It’s such a connective thing. That’s why awards mean something to me. It feels like this intimate celebration of people who do things that you love. There’s something so inherently pure, kind and good-natured about that. I find it really beautiful.

JC: Who is the coolest person in your phone book?

Dove Cameron: I think Alan Cumming. He’s the love of my life. I would literally do anything for that man. He’s just this full alien club kid, party child, child of the wilderness, divine feminine embodiment, alien power superstar. He’s a true role model for me, and I’m so lucky to have him in my life. When I don’t know what to do, I text him. I’ve been in his house crying before, and I can ask him so many things that other people would feel scared about. I can ask him things that I’d feel scared to ask other people—intimate things, emotionally vulnerable things, existence-based things. He’s been so kind to me as, what feels like, a family member, and, I don’t know, a platonic life partner. I just worship the guy. I don’t know how in the world the universe gifted me his presence, but it’s been so transformative. Kerry Washington is also in my phone, and that, to me, is very sexy.

JC: Who was the last celebrity you texted?

Dove Cameron: Keegan-Michael Key. We have a “Schmigadoon!” family group chat, and everybody got on there to congratulate me for my VMAs. They’re the most supportive group of people ever—like Lorne Michaels’ SNL comedy troupe. I’m so lucky. I have this amazing community of people who have been doing this for a while. They have joy and levity in their life, they don’t take themselves too seriously, and they’re super supportive of me. It’s such an egoless relationship, and I’m so lucky. So it was Keegan-Michael Key and Cecily Strong, but I also consider my best friend, Veronica, the biggest celebrity there is because she’s the light of my life. So she counts as well.

JC: You’re an outspoken advocate for so many issues, from LGBTQ+ rights and women’s reproductive freedom, to mental health and awareness. What feels most personal about these issues?

Dove Cameron: Yeah. I’m an outspoken advocate for the LGBTQIA community and women’s reproductive rights. It’s personal because it is personal, but it’s also—it’s so ludicrous. It’s so, so, so ludicrous that as a society, we’ve gotten so backwards that we’re human beings fighting for human rights. And some humans are trying to take them away. It’s like, why? Fuck off. What? Get over yourselves. It’s so fucking weird. It’s why I created the “Breakfast” video. I wanted to illustrate how fucking weird it is to police people’s bodies and leave one gender in the pitfalls of the reproductive conversation. It’s the most severe form of bullying—that’s what it is. It’s like freaky, weird, obsessive, insensitive bullies are running the country—and a lot of the world—and they’re just fucking ruining it for everybody. Fuck off. Leave people alone. Why are you so obsessed with what other people do? People marry who they want. Let people adopt kids. You’re true life villains. If you’re saying don’t abort a child, but if two queer parents want to adopt a kid from foster care, you’re going to stop them? Get your priorities in line. I’m an advocate for these things because why wouldn’t I be? They shouldn’t be personal. They should be universal. It is so fucking weird. They’re weirdos. I could talk about this forever. Go do your life, and let other people do their fucking life. Fuck off. Also, if you have a platform and you’re not using it, what a waste. What’s that Voltaire quote? “Every man is guilty of all the good he did not do.” I think it’s so weird when people have these big platforms, and they just want to post pictures of themselves or what they ate that day. It’s like, what? Then give up your platform to someone who has something to say. It’s so confusing to me. I don’t mean to put anyone down. We need to demystify these conversations and make them everyday conversations—because they should be, and they are. If you’re a human being, you should be fighting for human rights if that’s an issue. And, apparently, it is.

JC: What keeps you up at night?

Dove Cameron: My brain going a million miles an hour. There’s just never anything I can do to turn it off. I’m constantly thinking about what I want to do, how to maximize my time, how to fit a million lives into just one. I believe in reincarnation, but I’m also a Capricorn. So I’m planning on—it’s that whole thing. What is it? Fail to plan and plan to fail. I believe in reincarnation, absolutely, but am I going to put all my eggs in one basket? No. So if I only have this one life, I’m going to make the most out of it. I’m going to live as many lives as I can in this life, however many years I’m given. I’m so, so, so, so, so privileged to be alive. I never forget it. I know that I’m a weird little energy light beam from the sky, and I get to be human, just right now, and I’m not going to waste that. What a privilege. That’s what keeps me up at night. I just don’t want to sleep, because sleep feels like—sleep is the cousin of death.

JC: What does the word “rebel” mean to you?

Dove Cameron: To me, it means divorcing yourself completely from societal rewards or punishments and just doing whatever you want. If you’re rebelling, you’re still acknowledging the systems that oppress you, and in that way, you’re validating them. So don’t worry about whether you’re going with what’s expected of you or if you’re going against it. That’s still reinforcing what people expect of you, even if it opposes it—just do whatever you want. I know it’s easier said than done, and I’m completely guilty of not always being able to achieve that. But that’s my aspiration: to divorce myself from all the noise, to not know what the fuck is happening in the world unless I absolutely need to—or there’s a fire to put out, or there’s some cause to speak for—and just do what I want to do. It’s such an amazing thing to be human, to have instincts and to act on them and follow them. It’s a huge privilege. That’s being a rebel. I think so many humans conform because they’re pure energy light beams, and they’re trying to learn how to be humans. We are all just these pure souls—these pure, untouched projections of the universe when we’re born, and then all we’re programmed to do as the human part of us is to take in information and survive. So when you’re constantly receiving messaging, and you’re being told what works, and you’re naturally scared because we live in a culture of fear, why wouldn’t you conform? You’re trying to protect yourself. It’s totally understandable. My goal is to live so authentically to myself, whatever that means to me, because that’s the whole struggle: What does that mean to me? I want to live so authentically to myself without thinking about what other people define as authentic, but what I define as authentic, so that I live my life as someone who is not conforming. I just want my whole life to be a testament to how to live unbridled and how to tap into your power and your massive capacity for life. I want to live as life itself. And I hope, in that way, I’m granting other people who are watching permission to do the same.

JC: Do you remember your first rebellious act?

Dove Cameron: I think it was standing up for myself against a kid who was trying to bully me—whatever the four-year-old equivalent of cussing someone out was. I’ve always had a tough spirit. I used to get into arguments with my uncles about justice when I was a kid. I was very fiery. I was very, like, that’s not okay. That’s not the right thing to do. My mom would say I’ve always been very justice oriented—very fair—and never someone who wanted things to go my way just because it was my way. It was always about what was equal but not egalitarian. Just don’t be a dick to me or someone else. I’ve cussed many people out for treating my friends badly. I’m very confrontational. If I don’t like something or someone, or I think something’s unfair, I’ll be the first person to disrupt a dinner. I don’t deal with passive aggression well. Even when I was six years old, I got into a fight with one of my first teachers. I told her she was talking down to me, and that everybody was made equal, and she shouldn’t talk to me like a child just because I was younger than her. She was very controlling. She called my parents in for a parent-teacher conference, and my parents didn’t really see the issue. They said something like, “Human beings are all equal. Don’t condescend to my child.” I was lucky because those were my parents, but I always felt that way. Just because I’m six, and you’re 40, doesn’t mean you can treat me like a child. They all sounded like that, and they still do. “They” meaning all of my rebellious acts, which are not rebellious at all. I stand by them.

JC: What’s something you ran away from in your life?

Dove Cameron: Something I ran away from for a long time was my pain and my trauma, and I still compartmentalize it because I believe that the nervous system—the body keeps the score, but the nervous system holds all the pain. If I felt it all at once, I think something physiologically terrible would happen. I’ve spoken about this a lot, but there’s been a lot of murder, a lot of suicide, a lot of murder-suicide, a lot of freak accidents in my life—a lot of death and abuse has been a part of my life story. There was a long period of time in my teenage years, in my early twenties, where I didn’t want that to be a part of my story. I understand my desire to protect myself, but as I get older, and I practice forgiving myself for those times and tapping into my body and realizing I survived it, I run away less.

JC: When was the last time you cried?

Dove Cameron: The last time I cried was yesterday after remembering that the VMAs were real, and that my life is real, and all of this is real. I’m moved every day. I cry often because I can’t believe I’m alive, but I think yesterday’s cry was about the VMAs.

JC: Do you dream in black and white or color?

Dove Cameron: I think I dream in color. You know what’s weird? I don’t dream as much as other people do. I can’t remember the last dream I had, and I think it’s probably because I don’t sleep deep enough, if I’m honest.

JC: You’re a multi-hyphenate with an Emmy, a Billboard chart-topping song, a VMA, multiple television and film projects in the works, and an upcoming album. What are you most excited about next?

Dove Cameron: I’m a creature of instinct entirely, so I think I’m most excited to just see where my instincts lead me next. I don’t plan anything. Yes, you have to plan an album, but I don’t have a five-year plan. I don’t even have a five-month plan. I keep up by being present and following my gut, and it’ll change from day to day. I changed all my plans for the next two weeks. I texted my producer a couple nights ago and said, “Hey, dude, I know this sounds unhinged, but the album is in New York.” And he was like, what do you mean? And I said, “The album is here—it’s in the city. I can feel it. We’re going to write the album here. Can you fly out from LA?” I texted my label the same thing. It just feels like that—it feels like you’re discovering gems in your nervous system. It’s like a scavenger hunt for the magic, and when I have an instinct, I follow it implicitly. I worship it. It’s like I take my instincts, my cues and my direction from some invisible knowing within myself, and it never—and I mean never—steers me wrong. So Evan is getting on a plane tomorrow, and we’re going to write this album. We’re going to write it in under two weeks. I know that’s crazy. I know that’s ambitious. I know that albums usually take a year. I just have this weird feeling that we’re going to write this whole album in two weeks in this little studio—order all the food to it, probably pass out from lack of oxygen, and just bang it out in New York. I guess I’ll see you for the next interview, and I’ll tell you next year if I was right. But yeah, I’m just excited to see what’s next: where I’m going, what I’m called to do next, because—literally—I never know. I wake up in the morning, and every day is a new reality. I’m just happy to be here.

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