What’s INspiring about me? Before I answer, I want to be clear that this answer is like the chance of Amazon not selling any packages tomorrow, 0% of arrogance!

This question is like asking me to jump on a 24-inch box and land it, ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE!

As a person with cerebral palsy, a physical disability. One might think I’m going to write this grand story about how I “built Rome in ONE DAY”, paraphrasing John Heywood. The truth is: I can NOT tell you what is INspiring about me, others can.

They might say, Jake won a New York State Broadcasters Association Award for a feature he did on Disability Awareness Month, he has his masters degree in Sports Journalism, he was the president of his high school, etc. All that is GREAT; it does NOT hold a candle TO ME compared to EXternal achievements.

EXternal achievements only ASSIST with SELF-SABOTAGE.

To use a boxing analogy, “Your “cornerman” can ONLY LIFT YOU UP, NOT KNOCK YOUR OPPONENT DOWN.” – Jake April

So, to answer the question, I’m INspirational because hopefully, I conveyed the importance of being your OWN “cornerman”, and that comes from the INside!

Being a Black Man and an Actor and Filmmaker, people sometimes tell me I should be happy when I see a Black person in a movie cause I am being “Represented.” Yet, I try to explain that I am not. My Family is from the South, particularly Louisiana and although I was born in Cleveland, Ohio, I have more of the personality and attitude of someone from Louisiana. Which means I do not see myself as less than a White person and nor do I listen to whatever music I am told is preferred by Blacks. I date women of all backgrounds and won’t mention my crazy ex who was Blonde and Jewish cause that is a whole ‘nother story. I’ve yet to see myself in any movie or film or TV show. A Black man in a Cinema has to be poor and struggling or a criminal or even if he is a good guy, he is locked in a box that people believe is Black. Recently a White friend of mine told me, I should not speak with an accent when doing business presentations. It is sad when you are constantly told what music to listen to, how to speak and that you need to act “BLACK.” People refuse to acknowledge that there are “Different Shades of Black” and just because you see someone Black in movies and TV, that does not mean We are being Represented.

Representation is portrayal, and we are all actors writing and rehearsing scripts. We commit to characters or even just characteristics. We are imposters until we’re able to depict these things effortlessly. With the right amount of practice, passion and intention- representation is an art, it’s powerful. It’s a message we give or a picture we paint. It’s a responsibility that is not to be taken lightly. It requires dedication and integrity because there may be moments where circumstances are unfavorable.

Four years ago, I found myself in a nasty custody battle. I had been physically abused for five years and had finally decided that starting over with nothing was better than staying in a toxic situation. My son was four at the time, and he was terrified. I had accepted my fate, that one day his dad would just kill me. But seeing my son physically shaken and living in fear in his own home is what drove me to leave. He deserved better. I decided I’m not going to be the mom that raises my son in an unhealthy environment just to be able to say we don’t have a broken home. I’m not going to normalize these abusive behaviors and continue the cycle. I am a better mom than that. I will do better.

At our first hearing I wanted to be as fair as possible. I was advised to be fair because the system doesn’t care if you are abused, as long as the child is not abused physically. My mistake was not fighting. My son was terrified when he had to leave with the person that he was supposed to call his father. He was harassed and terrorized and even neglected some days. I went back to court and asked to amend our order. Even with him telling the judge he didn’t want to exercise his parental rights; the judge forced us to continue on with our shared custody. Every other weekend. He made it clear that he did not want to be a parent because I “chose to be a single mom.” As much as I wanted to lose my character, I had to bite my tongue and conform to the systems standard that “every parent has to be involved because they have rights.” See, the system loves to force these standards on us, but they fail to go below the surface. They also don’t enforce them. That’s why one parent can make excuses and owe thousands in child support while the other has to figure it out without missing a beat. That’s why the system thinks an online parenting class is going to give a parent the mental and emotional capacity to raise healthy children. Failing to take advantage of his every other weekend became a consistent blessing, and issue. Sometimes weeks would go by, and our lives would be peaceful. Others, we were harassed by drunken phone calls, aggression and stalking. If I’d let the order be, he had an opening to remain inconsistent and show up whenever he was bored with his life. Claiming he was sorry and that he wanted to “try” to be a good parent. I made the mistake of suggesting things he could do to bond with my son and in his twisted corrupt mind he used that to try and control me. He knew it’d hurt me to have to make excuses for him, because all I wanted was for my son to have two parents. He’d purposely mistreat or ignore my son for attention. He’d tell me, “Well you’re the one who wants me to have a bond with him. Try harder.” Even thinking about it makes me skin crawl. The world is infested with people like this, but I refused to allow my son to carry on that trait.

At our third hearing, I finally lost it. I was representing myself, and my son. I needed to advocate for him and his well-being. He did not deserve to be treated as a game, he is much too important and his health too valuable. Doing my best to hold back tears and keep my vocabulary decent, I told the judge, “You want me to continue to give him chances at being a parent when we have been in and out of this court room for the last year. My son is four, it does not take four years to be an active parent. I don’t get to make excuses, I have primary custody and I do not ever make excuses, nor can I rely on him to assist in anything regarding my son. He is not consistent because he doesn’t care to be. He can deny the abuse all he wants, I’m not here to get justice for myself. I’m here because I have my son’s best interest at heart and it’s clear you do not. All this evidence in front of you is to show you that I have tried. I’m damaging my son in the process and I’m damaging his trust in me because I am who keeps him safe. What kind of a mother would I be to continue to let this go on? He doesn’t care to be a parent, he’s here only to make my life miserable because he’s upset, he no longer has a punching bag. I promise you I will be back here in a few months because this is not a game to me. I will keep coming back because my son is not safe with him, and he is not comfortable. I will not normalize for him to always live in survival mode, paranoid about what is going to happen to him. I will withhold him because I have valid concerns and it’s my right to defend them here in court.”

In every moment, I represented myself and my son. Although I knew that in the judges’ eyes, I represented just another case in family court. I represented “bitter” baby mommas. In that court room, I was a victim that “clearly suffered from delusions and was projecting them onto my son.” I was dramatic, I needed help, I was stupid for being in a relationship like that to begin with. I was another teen parent who didn’t know what the hell to do. And I was not going to let any of those discourage me. I needed to fight because children deserve happy and healthy lives. Thankfully, my argument was taken into consideration, I was granted sole physical custody.

I realize now that my reason for fighting so hard was because I know what it’s like to be a child in a similar situation. I was only a year old when I was removed from my parents and placed in the system. Even years after the adoption was finalized, did anyone care to look into the life of this little girl who had been ripped away from the life she knew? Who didn’t understand why she couldn’t see her mommy and daddy every day? Sure, they investigated to make sure the new home would be safe. It looked good on paper, roof over my head, clean clothes, three meals. There is so much more that goes into raising a child. Especially a child that has been through something traumatic. You would think that mandatory parenting classes and therapy would have been a part of the adoption process. But the system only cared for their numbers. Place a child in a home and you can sleep better at night. Never mind the trauma or the child’s mental/emotional needs. It’s almost as if the system is made up of people who have never successfully raised a child. I hope I’ve explained well without going too much into detail. I hope you can understand who and what I was representing. I hope there are others out there who advocate for children, who have integrity and don’t treat children’s lives as a game.

Representation to me means the whole entire world and takes on a whole new level when you weren’t born the so-called typical way and your body doesn’t fit the mold. I have a form of Cerebral Palsy known as Spastic Diplegia which translates to both of my legs being affected resulting in difficulties moving around. I use all different types of things for mobility aid ranging from leg braces, a walker and occasionally a wheelchair for longer distances. A little bit of a back story. I’m a triplet as a result of in vitro we came into this world at thirty weeks so when you come to think about it my family and I are truly blessed as things could have been a whole lot worse. Under no circumstances does that mean I’m not deserving of being seen. I have so much to offer this world but don’t have as nearly as many audiences to show as I should. All throughout my years of elementary, middle and high school I had something called an individualized education plan which had my specific needs documented such as extra time on tests and so on including the therapies I received physical and occupational. I have fine motor difficulties however they are not as prevalent as my gross motor ones. There will never be a time when I don’t need physical therapy. I attend an intensive place bi weekly and at the end of every session I feel so proud of myself. It can be absolutely grueling at times but it’s so worth it. Another thing I had in school was a one on one aide to help in making sure I navigated from place to place safely. Fast forward to after high school graduation and I no longer have either of those things. I in a sense fell off the face of the earth. There is literally nothing for me now as all my life I have been told I fall in the middle somewhere or am too high functioning, but then again keep in mind things can be too advanced for me as well. A number of programs I have reached out to don’t even bother responding I shouldn’t have to experience what I do on a daily basis boredom beyond measure because I have very few things to occupy my time which is off the scale frustrating because not to toot my own horn but I am very smart I just need a different approach than most. For example when I was in eleventh grade I was inducted into the world language honor society and took it a step further and filled out an application to become an officer ultimately becoming the secretary. I have a love of learning but regular college run classes have never been suitable for me as I get extremely overwhelmed with the pace. I have had six surgeries to date and the uncertainty my life presents can be paralyzing some days but I will never ever give up and do not let anything stop me. I have gone rock and boulder climbing reaching the top both times thanks to my amazing friends who to say I’m lucky to have would be an understatement. This applies to my family as well. A support system goes such a long way but now it’s time we reach the highest grounds and soar. I also did adaptive skiing, zip lining, a flying trapeze and will be looking into adaptive surfing for next summer. I get a lot of enjoyment riding my adaptive bike too. Another thing I am working towards is ice skating. In preparation for this I have been practicing in therapy by ambulating with scooters under my feet. Life has thrown me a bunch of curveballs so I want to remind everyone of this, you truly never know the depth of what someone may be going through so in a word where you can be anything just be kind. Here’s a bonus: being kind doesn’t cost a thing plus it’s a two way street you will begin to reap the rewards too trust me on that. I don’t know what job path I would like to go down just yet but I do know one thing for sure: I want to spend all of my life using my voice to help others. This was fueled more so than I could have ever imagined back in 2019 when I became a volunteer suicide mental health hotline operator. It’s fully online through texting. It lit a fire in my soul that I never saw before and I don’t plan to ever stop feeding that passion of mine. When you’re in tune with your own voice you have the power to move mountains, and that is my exact mission in life to do just that, envisioning the best possible future for all. After the conversation you have with the person they have an option to anonymously write something if they want to, like feedback of how we did. They are all very nice but one in particular made the happiest tears flow out of me and I will never forget it as long as I live. It changed my view of literally everything. They called me an angel saying I saved a life today and that I should be proud of what I do. I have every reason to be. That statement leaves me utterly speechless miracles happen in our everyday lives if we look hard enough. To tie back to the theme of this letter representation I always say to myself if someone was in my shoes or anyone with challenges it would be a different story as they would see where I’m coming from. I will always use my voice for all especially those who can’t voice their thoughts to ensure that those with physical challenges on all degrees can have just as much visibility as everyone else I think it’s absolutely wonderful that when it comes to cognitive disabilities like autism and Down syndrome that the world recognizes it as that’s how it should be however we should be represented just like that I hope for this to go viral and be seen by as many possible those in the higher education field would be an ideal start.

Dear Chloe Hayden,

You don’t really know me and you’ve only responded to some of the things I’ve tagged you in, but I’ve been a fan of yours for about three years now. Even though we’ve never officially met, we have some things in common; we’re both autistic writers, actresses, and advocates. We’ve both challenged how autism is represented; you’ve done so through your book and your appearance on Heartbreak High, and I’ve done so through my articles and plays. I may not be as well-known as you, but I admire you and hope to do what you’ve already done. I aim to have a published and well-reviewed work about autism, and I would love to play an autistic character who truly challenges how autism is portrayed in the media.

I’ve recently ordered your book and can’t really comment on it yet, so I’ll talk about your character Quinni from the Heartbreak High reboot. The moment you made the announcement about your casting, I was hyped. I was never really into teen dramas at any point in my life, but I was willing to give the show a chance because you were in it. I’m glad that I did because not only did I get to witness an amazing show with excellent writing, but I got to see the best depiction of autism I had ever seen in my life. I’m sure plenty of viewers have already told you this, but you have no idea what Quinni means to me.

I was diagnosed as autistic somewhere around the age of three, but my parents didn’t tell me until I was seventeen. At that point, I was already an outcast with very few friends. Since I grew up with a secret negative view of autism, I didn’t take the delayed news of my diagnosis very well. That is, I didn’t take it very well on the inside. I looked surprised and confused on the outside when my parents told me the truth, but my insides were slicing themselves up from the center and working their way up to the barrier between my skin and muscle. Sorry for getting a little graphic, but that’s exactly how I felt, and it took me years to finally accept this part of myself.

The main reason why I took the news so hard was because of the lack of proper representation of autism I had growing up. The bit of representation that I did see on TV was just recycled Rain Man and not really anything I could really relate to. Although I did grow up with some autistic-coded characters who were similar to me like Lilo from Lilo and Stitch and Ariel from The Little Mermaid, there were no autistic characters that made me say, “Look! She’s just like me!” If I had seen an autistic character like myself on TV before my parents delivered the big news to me, then maybe I wouldn’t have slipped into an even bigger depression.

If the Heartbreak High reboot had come out when I was a teen, it would’ve helped me through a lot. I could’ve shown some scenes from the show to my friends in order to properly explain what I went through on a daily basis. Only one of my high school friends knew the truth before I finally came out of the autism closest in college, and maybe the Quinni scenes would’ve made me more confident to come out sooner. Every scene that she appears in just oozes autistic accuracy, but there’s one scene in particular that I need to praise. No, it’s not the “Ok Sia” scene that everyone talks about, although that scene is straight fire. I want to talk about Episode Six where Quinni gets to meet her favorite author. The entire episode was relatable from Quinni getting ready for the day to her suddenly having to fit Sasha into her plans that she had set weeks or even months ago to the pure joy on her face when her favorite author encouraged her to write a book. The scene that I want to point out is when Sasha pulls out the victim card and tries to blame Quinni for taking her to the book signing, even though she invited herself to the event that her girlfriend had planned to go to even before they started dating. Poor Quinni just assumed that Sasha actually wanted to go, only to be gaslit as she’s joyfully declaring that she wants to write a book. Her own partner couldn’t even be happy for her and only cares about a party. Then Sasha acts like it’s so hard being a neurotypical person with an autistic partner, but Quinni points out that she’s the only one of the two who actually has to live with autism and runs home in tears.

This scene hit me harder than any other scene in the show because I’ve been there so many times. I’ve lost count of how many times someone I cared about offered to do whatever I wanted to do, only to gaslight me and act as if I’d forced them to do it. I can do whatever my loved ones want me to do without admitting that what they’re putting me through is pure sensory hell, but I’m the villain if they offer to do what I feel like doing. It’s like whatever makes me feel comfortable or happy is wrong. It’s a situation that just about every autistic individual has been through, and yet I hardly see it depicted on TV. I can imagine how hard it must’ve been to film that scene, so I applaud you for bringing it to life. It’s a common autistic experience that more neurotypicals should be familiar with.

I know that you already know this by now, but you’ve changed autism representation for the better. I really hope that I could follow in your footsteps and bring a new autistic icon to life. Keep doing what you’re doing, love.

Your fan,
Catherine Burford

The Chevrolet Caprice (ka-pree-sh) is a full-sized automobile produced by Chevrolet in North America from 1965 to 1996 model years. Full-size Chevrolet sales peaked in 1965 with over a million sold. A million sold!
Chevy Caprice has classic, timeless, and phenomenal beauty. You ever been in awe of a classic car? When one passes you by you are always enthralled to look, gasp, or take a picture for keepsake? Even the name Chevy Caprice has a nice ring to it, and you just know based off the look and frame it will be amazing. It represents luxury, dedication, grand nostalgic times and is widely sought after. The value and appreciation soars with each restoration. The Chevy Caprice, a fine look of representation.

I have a look, one that has been mocked, mimicked, made fun of, and mushed.
Yes! Mushed!
You know when someone takes their hand and places it upon your forehead and proceed with that “gone head now” behavior?
Oh, how I’ve been mushed!
Mishandled, misused, misunderstood, and misread in a room full of scholars. I’ve been misled.
I’ve tiptoed around still holding on to hope that I wouldn’t be misinterpreted. The lectures that leave my lips are often misquoted and I’ve been told I use my pen to write words that are mis ordered.
I ordered a representation shake without a side of cultural and racial divides and a hot baked realization cake. I wanted to be labeled “please take one” too and “handle with care”. The representation I felt was anything but fair.
Then, I thought I was a mistake. The way I was representing myself, I thought the world around me was the bigger stake. The reward, with a plot twist treat, I missed Thanksgiving that year, I didn’t want nothing to eat.
I’ve been missing myself so much I watched vivid imagery of me behind the scenes of my own life.
This is a black woman’s story, no TLC, a lifetime achievement award, I should own plenty.
I am a proud African American.
Increasingly proud!
Even though when I speak my voice don’t always boom as loud.
I growl.
I meow
I slither and sometimes depending on my food intake I am a cow!
But a Black Woman I am… Wow

I often lay speechless of the constant misrepresentation of the human species.
Be courteous, poise, polite and practice neatness.
But what shall I do, if when I turn on the tv all I see is the ‘who’s who”, one of those guys and a whole lotta of you who’s?
Representation matters to me too!
I wish to see more inclusivity of the enormous amounts of creativity. Let it blossom from every tv screen, rich in color, live in dramatic wedding scenes.
And I wish for justice to be served on the first string, when the call to protect is answered its answered on the first ring.
Did you know I have 68 locks in my head? Each one tells a nonfiction saturated story from each leading root of red.
Or the sea of blue, either way you understand where I’m leaning too. I want someone on each team to look like me too.
From The little girl in me, with the bright eyes and big buck teeth, unhappily traveling throughout life like ever changing like leaves, imperfectly perfect like Eve, and timeless like a Chevy Caprice, please know it will take YOU to make sure you are represented well with peace and dignity. Please don’t leave the representation of those without mirrored remedy. Please don’t worry about the color of your skin please don’t struggle if you don’t feel right within. Do represent all is you. Happily, and free.
Representation matters, its classic, timeless, looks like you, me, and a Chevy Caprice.

“Distribute this letter into every space… I hope to change the world one letter at a time.”
-Gie Santana