When I think back on my journey as an actor, I’m filled with gratitude. I’ve had the honor of breaking a few barriers, like becoming the first actor with autism to play an autistic series regular on American prime time television and cable, and voicing Nickelodeon's first openly autistic animated character in Monster High.

Those milestones mean a lot to me, but they didn’t happen overnight. And if I’m being honest, the most meaningful part of this journey hasn’t been about what happened on screen. It’s been about what happened off camera when I finally stopped hiding and started advocating for myself.

For most of my life, masking was second nature. I got used to hiding parts of myself to fit in. 

It wasn’t until I started working with an acting coach that I realized how much of myself I’d been hiding. She read through my mask, and supported me in embracing my true self. That was a turning point. It gave me permission to begin unmasking, not just as an actor, but as a person. And once that door opened, I didn’t want to close it again.

At the time, I didn’t have an agent in LA. I didn’t have a manager. I was renting a small bedroom, just hoping to break into the industry. Then I came across a nationwide audition notice for a Freeform pilot called Everything’s Gonna Be Okay. The role was Matilda—an autistic character. I knew I had to go for it.

When the submit button didn’t work, I had a choice: give up or speak up. I faced one of my biggest fears and picked up the phone to call the casting office. 

That might sound simple, but for me, it was huge. Phone anxiety has been a major hurdle in my life. The pressure to respond in real time without a script made it overwhelming. But I made the call. 

And that call changed everything. 

The casting assistant gave me an email to send in my materials. I became the first person to audition. That powerful moment taught me the importance of advocating for myself. I could’ve let the moment pass, but I didn’t. I trusted my instincts and took a brave step to connect with others and pursue my dreams, which is exactly what Making the Call is all about.

After months of callbacks, chemistry reads, and screen tests, I officially booked the role. I was over the moon, and then full of panic when I learned I had two weeks to learn piano for the pilot. It was a flood of emotions all at once: joy, fear, pride, excitement. But I did it. I showed up. I kept showing up.

Once filming began, that sense of growth only expanded. The cast and crew made space for me to be my full self. I was also taking improv classes at the time, learning to trust my instincts and take creative risks. Slowly but surely, I started believing in my voice.

The press tours became more than promotion. They were moments of unmasking, too. Each time I shared my truth and told my story, I felt lighter. I wasn’t filtering myself or trying to make people comfortable. I was just… being me. 

And in doing that, I connected with others who saw themselves in my experience. Other autistic girls who were tired of pretending. Tired of minimizing their needs to fit into spaces that weren’t built with them in mind. Saying those things out loud helped me feel less alone. It helped them feel less alone. And it reminded me that advocating for yourself isn’t just brave; it’s necessary. 

If I could go back and talk to my younger self, I’d say this: Your path will look different. It might take longer. It might be harder. But it’s yours. And there’s strength in that. One day, you’ll pack up your car, drive to LA alone, and face every scary thing you thought you couldn’t do. You’ll prove people wrong with your grit. And more importantly, you’ll keep proving to yourself that you can.