"The Residence" Rekindled a Childhood Curiosity I Forgot I Had

A new Netflix murder mystery unlocked something I didn’t expect, reminding me why curiosity, clarity, and storytelling have always been part of who I am.

She had a bright yellow raincoat. A magnifying glass that felt way too big for her hand. Her hair slicked back into a tight ponytail. Oval-shaped binoculars that she held up every time she even sensed there was a need to investigate something. And a notebook. Always the notebook.

She moved through the world like it was her job to figure it out. Interviewing neighbors. Spying on friends. Gathering evidence with the intensity of someone solving a federal case. No detail was too small. No question was too bold. She needed the truth.

And I was obsessed with her.

Even as a kid, I was fascinated by people who asked questions that others skipped over. I didn’t have language for it at the time, but now I know I’ve always been a curious communicator. The kind of person who notices the little things, who wants to know how things work, who feels most alive when there's something to solve or uncover.

That same curiosity showed up in all the things I loved. I was probably just past the age bracket for Blue’s Clues, but I thoroughly enjoyed it anyway. The clues. The patterns. The way each episode gave you just enough to work with if you were paying attention. It scratched the same itch that Harriet the Spy did. Both shows taught me how to look closely, how to question things, and how to chase clarity for the sake of understanding.

Long before I ever heard the words strategy, storytelling, or cultural insight, I was watching Harriet the Spy like it was a guidebook. I didn’t know it at the time, but that movie was shaping me. I watched it over and over again, not just because it was fun or cool, but because I saw myself in it. The precision. The process. The curiosity. The control.

And now, decades later, The Residence brought all of it rushing back.

It’s Shondaland’s latest series on Netflix, a murder mystery set inside the White House, led by the incredible Uzo Aduba as Cordelia Cupp. And if Harriet had grown up and taken her talents to DC, she’d probably show up looking a lot like this: tweed blazer with brown leather epaulettes, matching crossbody satchel, and a brown boot, ready to ask the questions nobody else will.

And I haven’t really been watching murder mysteries in recent years. Not for any specific reason, they just haven’t pulled me in. But now that I’ve started The Residence, I’m all the way in. I’m already thinking about going back to Knives Out, rewatching Clue, finally catching up on Only Murders in the Building, and getting back into a genre that clearly still speaks to me.

Because The Residence is good. Like really good. The pacing is sharp. The score keeps you on edge in the best way. And Uzo? She is absolutely carrying it. Her performance is grounded, no-nonsense, and somehow still warm. It’s so rare to see someone like her leading a show like this, and it’s even rarer for that character to be written this well.

One of my favorite moments happens in the first twenty minutes. Cordelia is around a group of powerful white men who are all trying to steer her toward accepting a suicide narrative. She doesn’t flinch. She keeps asking questions, calmly, directly, and without apology. And in the process of just refusing to be swayed, she figures out the truth. It’s one of those scenes that feels like a metaphor for the times we’re in, where clarity only comes when someone is bold enough to question what everyone else is blindly going along with or trying to convince you otherwise.

The visuals also deserve a whole paragraph of their own. I’m a stickler for strong camera work and smart angles and The Residence delivers. The cinematography is clean and crisp, but it’s the way they shoot the White House that really impressed me. It feels big and haunting and detailed all at once. The symmetry. The rooms. The scale. The drone-style shots that swoop across blueprints and hallways. It’s immersive without being showy. You can tell they treated the setting like a character of its own.

Then there’s the cast. Every character feels intentional. Some are charming, some suspicious, some unbothered in a way that feels like a red flag. But everyone is contributing to the tension. No one feels wasted or like a throwaway archetype.

And there’s this one subplot that absolutely made me pause. A female senator (read: Jasmine Crockett) is questioning the assistant chief usher about someone close to the president who has no official government role but seems to be involved in all sorts of private and political matters. The way she describes him, you can’t help but think of Elon Musk. And later, that same character is seen rummaging through the dead man’s office looking for sensitive documents he wasn’t supposed to have. It’s ironic. It’s funny. And it’s wildly relevant. With everything that happened around Trump and Mar-a-Lago, the nods to real-life drama are not subtle, but they’re not overdone either. It’s just smart.

All of that combined is what reminded me why I admire creators like Shonda Rhimes so much. She makes space for Black and brown characters in rooms we weren’t always invited into. She does it without apology or spectacle. And in doing so, she changes what those rooms mean for everyone watching.

As I think more about the kind of content studio I want to build (one rooted in IP, storytelling, licensing, and creative freedom and… more on this later) I can’t help but look to Shonda as a north star. Same with Issa Rae. Same with Lena Waithe. And yes, even Kris Jenner. But it’s not just the women. I look at what LeBron and Maverick have done with SpringHill, what 50 Cent has built with G-Unit Film and TV, even watching Lecrae build his empire from music to podcasting. They’ve all created platforms that allow them to shape culture on their own terms. And I want that too. I want to work with people I love and believe in, help them tell great stories, and build something that feels lasting.

So yes, The Residence is a fun show. But it’s also thoughtful. It’s timely. It’s layered. And it reminded me that storytelling isn’t just about entertainment. It’s about what we center, who we empower, and how we shape what’s possible. And for me, it’s also about staying curious enough to keep asking why, and following the story wherever it leads.

Let me know if you are watching or plan to watch and what you think about the show; what makes you uniquely drawn to it and why.