It’s bizarre. What’s the figure? Four per cent?

And it’s 0.4 per cent of black women directing movies. I have a big desire to be a part of shifting that. You direct or act or produce what you want to see, which tends to be a reflection of who you are. I’m making a movie in October, A United Kingdom, about the heir to the throne of Botswana who married a white lady. Their interracial marriage caused a diplomatic earthquake between South Africa, Botswana and the United Kingdom. And you just don’t see those stories, certainly not from the point of view of a black South African who married a white lady.

Do you think progress is being made then for better racial and gender inclusion?

Historically what has happened is that you have a moment and then everyone feels like, “Oh, it’s changing,” and then everyone relaxes. And the one thing I refuse to do is relax and assume that we’re in the middle of a critical mass that is now going to self-perpetuate.

Like when Kathryn Bigelow won the Oscar for directing and people thought it would be a giant leap for female filmmakers...

I spoke to a producer the other day, saying she had to deal with other producers complaining that a certain female director was a bit emotional and how are we going to deal with that? (a) She’s a human being. (b) She’s a storyteller and, arguably, you want to have emotion in your story. It’s the same thing with a black director. “Oh, gosh, they’re intense. They can be a bit angry or militant.” It’s all born out of fear — fear of a loss of position, fear of the world changing too fast.

How do you change that?

You engage in that fear. I like to think I’m a good actor, but I’m not owed a career. But while I have a degree of notoriety and a window whereby people are interested in what I do, I’m going to try to do brave, meaningful work that tells the truth and shifts some of the tough ground that I feel I’ve had to endure and, at the very least, make it more supple for those coming behind me.