Unstoppable: How Actress & Filmmaker Natasha Ofili Has Redefined Success While Navigating Society As A Black Deaf Woman
…If everyone practiced kindness and acceptance, it would expand minds and hearts in ways we can’t even imagine. Perfection isn’t the goal. The goal is understanding, harmony, and a shared respect for one another…
I had the pleasure of talking with Natasha Ofili. Natasha is a trailblazing figure in the entertainment industry, celebrated for her work as the first Black Deaf woman to portray a playable character in a video game, playing Hailey Cooper in Marvel’s Spider-Man: Miles Morales. Her performance earned widespread acclaim and led to her receiving a 2024 Game Accessibility Conference Award for her continued work in Marvel’s Spider-Man 2. A multifaceted artist, Ofili’s impact extends beyond gaming, with a recent role in Coldplay’s music video feelslikeimfallinginlove, for which she also provided the story and creative direction as well as American Sign Language (ASL) translation. This project has since evolved into a feature film she is currently developing with the band’s support.
Born in Maryland and raised in California, Ofili lost her hearing at 18 months old due to a high fever. Her mother, originally from Sierra Leone, was instrumental in ensuring she had access to quality education and language resources from an early age. Ofili attended preschool at Melrose Elementary School, where she learned Sign Exact English, a sign system that matches signs with the English language. It wasn’t until later that she was introduced to ASL, a transformative step in her journey toward self-expression and self-advocacy.
Deeply rooted in her African heritage, Ofili’s upbringing was rich with cultural traditions, music, and storytelling. Her childhood was shaped by her love of books, which became a refuge in a world without captioned media. Her early exposure to diverse narratives fostered a creative spark that would later define her career. She credits her observant nature and imaginative mind with laying the groundwork for her storytelling abilities.
Ofili’s education path included time in the TRIPOD program for Deaf and hard-of-hearing students in Burbank, a turning point that bolstered her confidence and equipped her with essential advocacy skills. It was also her first exposure to Hollywood through captioned screenings at Warner Brothers. Though she initially pursued psychology at California State University, Northridge (CSUN), she later pivoted to fashion, studying Product Development at the Fashion Institute of Design & Merchandising (FIDM). Her determination and talent propelled her to the top of her class, leading to a successful eight-year career in fashion, where she worked with brands like BCBG-Max Azria and Evy of California.
Despite her achievements in fashion, Ofili felt drawn to storytelling in new ways. Encouraged by friends, she dipped her toes into acting through community theater and short films, discovering a profound passion for the craft. A life-changing audition for Ryan Murphy’s The Politician marked a pivotal moment in her acting career, as she secured a recurring role that showcased her ability to navigate both spoken and signed performances seamlessly. Her success in the series underscored her commitment to breaking down barriers for Deaf actors, particularly actors of color.
Her journey into voice and motion-capture acting began with Spider-Man: Miles Morales, a groundbreaking project that further expanded her influence. Ofili brought authenticity and depth to her character, earning praise for her performance and advocacy for inclusion within the gaming industry. Through improvisation and collaboration with the game’s developers, her role evolved, solidifying her presence in the franchise.
Parallel to her acting career, Ofili has ventured into writing and directing, driven by a desire to tell authentic stories that highlight underrepresented voices. Her short film The Multi, which she self-funded and produced during the pandemic, explores themes of mental health and trauma. The film premiered at the prestigious BFI and garnered accolades at multiple international festivals, showcasing her versatility as a filmmaker.
Ofili’s dedication to inspiring future generations is a cornerstone of her work. She regularly visits schools to connect with young Black Deaf students, offering them a vision of what’s possible in the face of systemic barriers. Her message emphasizes the power of resilience, kindness, and acceptance, values she credits with guiding her through her own challenges.
As she continues to build her career, Ofili is focused on expanding the scope of her storytelling. Her current projects include developing her short film into a feature-length production and advocating for more equitable representation in Hollywood. Through her work, she aims to create narratives that resonate universally while highlighting the experiences of Deaf and marginalized communities. Whether on screen, behind the camera, or in the classroom, Ofili remains a force for change, using her platform to challenge conventions and inspire others to embrace their authentic selves.
Yitzi: Natasha, it’s an honor to meet you. Before we dive deep, our readers would love to learn about your personal origin story. Can you share the story of your childhood and how you grew up?
Natasha: Oh wow, thank you so much. Well, I was born in Maryland, but my family moved to California when I was 18 months old. Around that same time, I became Deaf due to a high fever. My mom, who is from Sierra Leone and very rooted in her African culture, didn’t see having a Deaf child as a challenge. She immediately focused on finding solutions and made sure I got the best education possible.
Instead of panicking, she looked around for the best resources right away. I feel so grateful for that because, unfortunately, many hearing parents with Deaf children don’t know what to do and sometimes make choices that aren’t in the best interest of the child. But my mom really gave me access to language and education early on.
I started preschool at Melrose Elementary School, which had one of the best mainstream programs. That was where I first gained access to language, although, at the time, it wasn’t American Sign Language (ASL). It was SEE, or “Sign Exact English,” which represents the English language visually. I didn’t learn ASL until later.
Yitzi: How did growing up with such a strong connection to your African roots influence your perspective and creativity?
Growing up, I was very connected to my African culture. My family exposed me to it in so many ways — attending African weddings, practicing cultural rituals in our home, and, of course, the food. I grew up eating all kinds of African soups and dishes, which made me feel so connected to my roots.
As a Deaf child, I was also very observant. This was before the days of closed captions, so I had to rely on my other senses to engage with the world around me. Music played a big part in my life. My mom would play all kinds of music at home — Motown, Tom Petty, Mariah Carey, Madonna — you name it. I loved feeling the emotions in the music and observing how it impacted others.
Reading was another huge part of my childhood. Since there was no captioning for TV back then, I turned to books. Books were my escape and my playground. I practically lived at the library, and I’d check out as many books as I could carry. The librarian would always scold me, saying, “Natasha, you can only take five books at a time,” and I’d have to put some back.
That love of reading sparked my creativity. I started creating characters in my mind, imagining emotional journeys, and developing story arcs. I was always asking questions — “Why did this happen? What’s going on?” — and that curiosity helped shape the storyteller in me.
Yitzi: You’ve spoken about your transition from mainstream education to the TRIPOD program in Burbank. How did this shift affect your confidence and self-advocacy as a Deaf child?
When I got older, we moved to Burbank because they had a private program for Deaf and hard-of-hearing students called TRIPOD. Before that, my siblings went to private schools, but I was placed in a mainstream program at an elementary school. Unfortunately, it wasn’t a great fit.
One day, my mom noticed my behavior was off, and she came to school to observe. She sat in the back of my classroom and was horrified by what she saw. They had placed me in a special education class for “troubled kids,” and she knew immediately that this wasn’t the right environment for me.
That’s when she started looking for a better program, and we eventually found Burbank. My sister continued at her private school in Harvard Westlake, but I went to John Muir Middle School and Burbank High School through the TRIPOD program, which gave me the support and education I needed to thrive.
The TRIPOD program truly changed my life. It was where I learned how to self-advocate as a Deaf child and later as a teenager. It gave me the tools to navigate the world, and even though I didn’t fully realize it at the time, it also gave me my first taste of Hollywood — something that would become a part of my life years later.
My first Hollywood premiere was at Warner Brothers, thanks to one of my classmates. His father, Michael Shamberg, was an executive producer, and his son was Deaf. Michael was a strong advocate for providing access to Deaf and hard-of-hearing people. Because of him, I got to watch a movie at Warner Brothers with open captions (subtitles embedded in the movie), which was such a rare experience back then.
I fell in love with that experience. It was incredible to have full access to a film in a way that resonated with me. Watching movies became a huge part of my life — I would watch so many movies, and it became “my thing.”
Later, I went to California State University, Northridge (CSUN) and studied psychology. While I loved the subject, it just didn’t work out for me, and I made the decision to leave. My mom, understandably, was furious. She wanted to kill me and bury me in the backyard! In African culture, education is everything — it’s such a big part of life and expectations. So, leaving school felt like a huge disappointment to her.
After I left, I worked odd jobs while trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life. It was during this time that I came to a harsh realization: the world is hard for someone like me. Navigating it as a Deaf person was filled with challenges, and I felt lost for a while as I tried to find my path.
I remember when I was 11 years old, my mom sat me down for “the talk.” Not the birds and the bees talk, but this talk. She looked at me and said, “Natasha, the world is going to be hard for you later on in life.” I didn’t understand what she meant at the time, so she explained, “You’re Black, you’re Deaf, and you’re a woman.” At 11 years old, it didn’t really sink in. I couldn’t fully grasp what she was trying to prepare me for.
Fast forward to when I left college at 18 or 19, and suddenly, her words made sense. I started to experience it firsthand. I had work experience — I began working at 14, doing data entry, retail, and office jobs — but when I went out into the world looking for jobs, it became clear how difficult it was. I’d go to job interviews and introduce myself, “Hi, my name’s Natasha. I’m Deaf,” and every time, there’d be this pause, and they’d say, “Oh, okay. Well, we need to let you know…” It was always the same line.
Yitzi: Facing rejection at job interviews due to your Deafness must have been disheartening. How did you persevere through those challenges?
At one point, my mom suggested, “Maybe you should take off your hearing aids for interviews.” I didn’t like the idea, but I decided to try it. Sure enough, I got a job when I didn’t wear my hearing aids. It was eye-opening. But I couldn’t lie, it just wasn’t in me. After I got hired, I told my boss at Express in Manhattan Beach, “I’m Deaf.” Her name was Juvy, and she surprised me by being incredibly understanding. She said, “Oh, wow. Okay, thank you for telling me.” She became one of the few people in my life who gave me a real chance.
Yitzi: Can you share what motivated you to pursue a career in fashion, and how your time at FIDM helped shape your future?
From there, I kept working. I eventually decided to leave retail and took a job at a bridal store in Woodland Hills, which I loved. It was such a great experience. I learned so much about fabrics, materials, and fashion. Unfortunately, the business shut down, and I found myself back at square one.
That’s when I decided to go to FIDM (Fashion Institute of Design & Merchandising) to study Product Development. To get in, you had to do an interview, and during mine, they asked if I had a portfolio. I didn’t. I told her, “No, but I can make one.” Inside, I was panicking, thinking, “Oh shoot, oh shoot.” She gave me two weeks to create a portfolio if I really wanted to be accepted.
I went straight to my mom’s garage, pulled out all my art supplies, and got to work. I worked so hard on that portfolio, pouring everything I had into it. Two weeks later, I went back for my interview, and I got in.
FIDM ended up being one of the best experiences of my life. I actually enjoyed college this time, and I even graduated at the top of my class. But it wasn’t easy. I had already learned from past experiences that I had to work harder than most people. I couldn’t make excuses. I had to be strategic and stay ahead of the curve.
While I was at FIDM, I made sure to gain real-world experience in the industry while keeping a 3.5 GPA. I networked with teachers, counselors, and the career center. I took on the burden of doing whatever it took to get ahead. It was exhausting, but it was worth it.
I remember one specific class in my final quarter — it was a portfolio presentation class, where you prepare your work to showcase to potential employers. I begged the counselor to let me take the class a quarter early because I didn’t want to be job-hunting at the same time as my entire graduating class. I wanted a head start. My counselor was concerned about the courseload, but when she saw my GPA, she thought, “Okay, you can handle it.”
So, I took that portfolio class. I loved that class, and I was committed. And in the end, I got an A. Actually, an A-plus.
With my portfolio ready, I started looking for jobs again. I interviewed with so many fashion companies. It felt like the same cycle all over again. I’d put myself out there, prepare for every opportunity, and face rejection after rejection. I even started driving further for interviews — sometimes all the way from LA to Oxnard — but still, nothing.
Then, something unexpected happened. My teacher for the portfolio class emailed me and said, “I want to nominate your portfolio for a contest.” I was surprised but agreed to submit it. So, I brought my black portfolio to the student office, and when I saw all the other submissions, I thought, “Wow, this is a lot of competition.” I didn’t expect much to come from it.
About three weeks later, I got an email saying I’d been selected. Out of all the students, only 100 portfolios were chosen, and mine was one of them. I couldn’t believe it. I was like, “What’s the prize?” Turns out, FIDM was hosting a fashion industry event for top companies to meet the winners and review their portfolios first. It was such a cool concept.
At the event, two companies expressed interest in my work. One of them was BCBG MaxAzria. I was thrilled because I really wanted to work there. So, I went to the job interview at their huge building in the city of Vernon. Two people interviewed me, and it went well. Then, I found out later that they actually argued because they both wanted me to work for them, and they had to agree on who I would work for. In the end, I got the job, and that was the beginning of my fashion industry career.
Yitzi: Working at BCBG MaxAzria and Evy of California must have been transformative. What were some of the most valuable lessons you learned during your years in the fashion industry?
I worked in fashion for eight years before transitioning to acting. My time at BCBG was an amazing experience. I started as a product developer, and the work environment was a mix of chaos and excitement — like The Devil Wears Prada. Everyone was running around, working hard, and striving for excellence. The creative director, who was MaxAzria’s wife, was intimidating but inspiring. She kept everyone on their toes, and while the industry was cutthroat, I respected that nothing was ever personal. It was all about business and achieving the shared goal of creating beautiful products.
After BCBG, I worked at a company called Evy of California, where I started as an assistant designer for children’s wear. I designed for licensed brands like Hello Kitty, Marvel, DC, and Ecko Unlimited, and my customers included Macy’s and Target. I worked my way up the ladder from assistant designer to associate designer and eventually to designer.
Yitzi: You’ve mentioned hitting a “ceiling” in your fashion career. What led you to explore acting as your next chapter?
Working in the fashion industry was a beautiful experience, but eventually, I hit a ceiling. I didn’t think that would happen to me. I thought, “This is it, this is what I’m going to do for the rest of my life.” I remember during my interview at Evy of California, they asked me, “Where do you see yourself in five years?” and I said, “I want your job.” But over time, I started to feel empty. I realized I didn’t actually want that job or the path I was on.
A few years before I started acting seriously, a friend of mine from Deaf West Theatre, DJ Kurs, kept asking me to try acting. He’d been bugging me for years, and I was always like, “No, why?” But as a favor to him, I finally agreed to audition for a Deaf West production called Flowers of Algernon. I figured it was nothing serious, so I said, “Okay, fine, I’ll do it.” They sent me the script, and I had no clue what to do with it.
I reached out to one of my actor friends for advice and asked, “What am I supposed to do with this?” They told me, “Highlight your lines, practice, and memorize everything.” So, I gave it my best shot. I showed up for the audition and warned the director in advance, “Hey, I’m not an actor.” The audition ended up being one of the most mortifying moments of my life. I left thinking, “Well, that’s it. Bye!” Honestly, I was relieved. I had made a deal with DJ that if I auditioned, he’d stop bothering me about acting. As far as I was concerned, I was done.
Then I got an email from the production asking for my availability. I was shocked. I thought, “Why? I didn’t get the part… Did I?” I decided to check with my boss at the fashion company, fully expecting her to say no, since I was working 50–60 hours a week. But when I asked her, she said, “Oh, that’s wonderful! Of course you can do it.” And I was like, “No! That’s not the answer I wanted.”
So, I emailed the production back with my availability, but in the end, I didn’t get the part. I was thrilled — I literally celebrated. But then DJ came back and said, “I have one more project for you. Please, just do this one thing for me.” Reluctantly, I agreed.
This time, I worked with DJ and a director named Wayne Betts Jr. DJ had written a piece called The Hearing Boyfriend, and when I read it, I was completely blown away. It was a deeply vulnerable monologue about a hearing boyfriend who was verbally abusive to his Deaf girlfriend. The piece resonated with me on a personal level because I had been in a similar situation many years before. It touched me deeply, and for the first time, I wanted to do it.
I showed up on set expecting it to just be DJ, Wayne, and me. I was so naive — I thought it would be this low-key, casual thing. But when I arrived, there was an entire crew. There were cameras, lights, and so many people. I was stunned. I remember thinking, “What is this? What did I get myself into?”
I remember going to the bathroom to get ready before we started filming The Hearing Boyfriend, and I was absolutely terrified. I had never performed like that before, and I felt completely out of my element. I locked myself in the bathroom for a while, trying to gather myself. When I finally came out, the director, Wayne Betts Jr., must have sensed how nervous I was. He came over and said, “Hey, it’s okay. I remember when I was in your shoes. I’m not an actor either, but back in the day, I had to do a hundred takes just to get it right. You’ll be fine. Just chill.”
That really helped calm me down. So, we set everything up — the cameras, the lights — and then I heard the director say, “Action.” At that moment, my life changed. I poured my heart into that performance, giving it everything I had. The feeling was incredible. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. Fashion was exciting, but this… this was something deeper. This tapped into a part of me I didn’t even know existed. And right then, I thought, “This is what I want to do.”
After that, I started acting little by little. Most of it was through word of mouth, but I wasn’t fully committed yet because I was still working full-time in fashion. Acting felt like something I was just dabbling in, but somehow, the universe kept pushing me in that direction.
Yitzi: What was your breakthrough moment in acting, and how did it feel to transition from fashion to the entertainment industry?
In August of 2015, I got laid off from my job in fashion. And instead of feeling sad or defeated, I felt a sense of relief. I thought, “Okay, thank you. This is my chance.”
I decided to take the same drive and motivation I had applied to my fashion career and channel it into acting. I asked questions, learned everything I could, and started building my own website. I reached out to a director and editor from the UK, Bim Ajadi, who I had worked with before, and he encouraged me to put together a reel. I sent him all my material, and he edited it into a reel for me, which I uploaded to my website.
Next, I realized I needed an agent. A friend of mine had a book listing different agencies, so I emailed 20 or 30 of them, just cold-calling via email. Nothing. No responses. I started to feel stuck, so I reached out to a director whose PSA (Allen Rucker was the executive producer) I acted in, Paul Chitlik, and asked if he could recommend an agency. Chitlik referred me to Gail Williamson, a well-known agent for disabled talent at KMR, and personally called her office to refer me.
When Gail called me, she spoke with my sister, because I couldn’t use the phone by myself. Gail told my sister, “How did she get all that work on her own without representation?” She wanted me to come into her office right away. When I met Gail, we clicked instantly. She believed in me, and she took me under her wing.
Thanks to Gail, I booked several commercials, including work for Apple. Commercials were my entry point, and from there, things grew. One of my biggest breaks came with The Politician. But there’s a funny story about how that happened.
Right before The Politician — at the end of 2017 — I emailed Gail and told her I wanted to change my strategy. I said, “I want to add something new. I want to book a speaking role.” She was a little surprised and asked, “Are you sure?” I told her, “Yes. I want to redefine what it means to be a Deaf actor. I’ve played only Deaf roles already, and they don’t always have to be defined by my being Deaf. I want to show people that I can do more.”
Gail said, “Okay, if you feel comfortable with it, let’s go for it.” She started pitching me for speaking roles, and while I was nervous, I knew it was the right step for me. It was a way to break down more barriers — not just for myself, but for others who might follow. And that decision changed everything.
The Politician was such a pivotal moment for me, and let me tell you, it came together in the weirdest way. I got an email from Gail’s assistant saying, “Natasha, you’re confirmed for an audition?” Normally, I’d get an email, review the details, and confirm. But this time, I was like, “What email? I never got one.” Then she emailed me again and said, “Oh my God, Natasha, Gail forgot to send you the script before she went on vacation. This is for The Politician, Ryan Murphy’s show, for a speaking role.”
I was completely caught off guard. She said, “You’re confirmed for tomorrow,” and I was like, “Wait, what?” She sent me the script that night. It was my first time ever speaking for an audition. I printed the script, taped it to my mirror, and spent the night pacing back and forth, practicing. Normally, I’d work with a voice coach before an audition like this to prepare, but I didn’t have time.
The next day, I arrived at the audition, scared out of my mind. When I walked into the waiting room, I realized I was the only Deaf person there, and it hit me: “Gail wasn’t playing around.”
The casting director knew I was Deaf, and they were so accommodating, which made me feel supported. When it was my turn, I voiced my lines. I also SimComed (simultaneous communication, using both sign language and speech) for part of it, and I gave them three different takes. I walked out feeling like I did my best, but I didn’t know what to expect.
A week later, I got the role. No callback, just an email: “You got it.” I was blown away. It was a huge win, not just for me, but for Gail, too.
When I got the script, I was originally slated for one and a half episodes. But after I started working, Ryan Murphy was impressed with my performance, and my role expanded to four episodes. Every time I thought I was done, they sent me another script.
Yitzi: Your work on The Politician and Spider-Man: Miles Morales brought significant attention to your talent. What were some memorable moments from these projects?
Working on set for The Politician was one of the best experiences of my life. I had an interpreter with me, which caused a bit of initial confusion for the crew. They were like, “Wait, she’s Deaf, but she can speak, but she has an interpreter, and she’s signing?” It took some adjusting, but they figured it out. I would only use my voice when the director called “action.” Outside of that, I communicated through sign language.
It was a process of teaching and showing people how I work. I established that I was still me — still Natasha — once they yelled, “Cut.” I’d sign for notes, take direction through my interpreter, and then switch to speaking when the cameras rolled.
By the time we got to the third episode, the crew and I were in sync. I remember a specific night scene with Ben Platt’s character, Payton. In the scene, Ben was supposed to walk behind me as the cue for me to start walking. But since it was a wide shot, my interpreter couldn’t cue me with “action” like they normally would. It just wasn’t possible.
That’s when the DP (Director of Photography) stepped in with a brilliant solution. He said, “Natasha, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll use a flashlight as your cue for action.” When the flashlight blinked, I would know to start walking. It was such a simple yet beautiful solution, and it worked perfectly.
That experience cemented something for me. By the time we wrapped, I thought, “Okay, I want to do more speaking roles.” That show opened a door for me, not just professionally but personally, too. It showed me what’s possible when people are willing to adapt, accommodate, and believe in you.
And then, that year led to even more opportunities. I got to work on Amazon’s Undone as an ASL teacher, which was such a great experience. That happened the same year as The Politician, so it was funny — I had a role where I was using ASL and then a speaking role right after. It was this cool balance of different types of work.
Then came Spider-Man. That was an absolutely mind-blowing process. When I first got the email about the self-tape, it didn’t say it was for Spider-Man or Marvel or anything like that. The description just said they were looking for a young Black Deaf artist in high school who spray paints for a video game. That was all the info I had, but I thought, “Okay, let’s do this.”
For the audition, I remembered I had this old shirt I bought years ago — it was black with graffiti-style text on it that said, “Who is he?” I thought it would fit the vibe, so I wore that and submitted my tape. I ended up booking the role without a callback. That was two for two — The Politician and now this! Later, my agency told me, “By the way, this is for the Spider-Man: Miles Morales video game.” I was like, “What?! Are you serious?!” I couldn’t believe it.
The whole process was incredible. I went through a body scan and face mapping — it was so surreal. What I loved most about working on the Spider-Man game was how imaginative the process was. On set, it’s a blank canvas. You have to use your imagination to create the world around you, and for me, that was like tapping into the creativity I developed as a kid, imagining stories and characters.
One day during shooting, the director saw the chemistry I developed with the actor of Miles Morales, Nadji Jeter. They decided to expand my character, Hailey, and her storyline. We did a lot of improvisation, and Hailey became a much bigger character than I ever expected. Originally, they had hired a separate voice actor for Hailey, but they decided it would be more authentic if I did the voice work myself. I was thrilled.
When it came time for the ADR (Automated Dialogue Replacement) session, they made the setup completely accessible for me. There was a monitor, an interpreter I could see, and my voice coach in the room with me. It was such an amazing experience. Like with The Politician, I had to do a few takes to get certain words right. Of course, I can’t speak perfectly, but they were so patient with me. For words I struggled with, they’d let me do it over and over until it worked. They kept saying, “Natasha, take your time, it’s okay.” That whole process was eye-opening for me — it made me realize that anything is possible.
Yitzi: How did you transition to writing and creating your own material?
After Spider-Man, I was on a high, but at the same time, I began to struggle with Hollywood a little. I had accomplished so much with my agency, but I couldn’t help noticing a frustrating pattern. There weren’t a lot of Black, Deaf, dark-skinned actors being cast. Time and time again, I’d see white Deaf talent getting opportunities, and it made me pause and wonder, “What’s going on here?” I had a quality resume. I had proven myself. But it felt like there was still this glass ceiling.
That realization was a turning point for me. Instead of waiting for someone else to tell my stories, I wrote them myself. That’s when I wrote my first play, The Window. It’s a four-act play that I’m incredibly proud of. For me, storytelling doesn’t have to revolve around being Deaf. It’s about creating something universal — something that resonates with people, sparks conversations, and connects us. Even though I am Deaf, I want my work to give audiences an emotional experience that expands both the mind and the heart.
With The Window, my focus was on human connection. That’s what I want to explore in my writing. I workshopped the play with Deaf West Theatre & WACO (founded by Richard Lawson and Tina Knowles), which was an incredible experience. It only reinforced my belief that writing is such a powerful way to expand representation and create meaningful stories. For me, it’s about showing the depth of our shared humanity, no matter our differences.
And then COVID happened, and everything came to a halt. But Gail gave me an opportunity during that time — she emailed me about a grant for artists to work on something creative during the pandemic. I thought, “Okay, what can I do?” I pitched the idea of doing a table reading for The Window, even though I knew I couldn’t pull off a big production. But they pushed back and said, “We can’t have that many people due to COVID restrictions. Do you have another script?”
At first, I didn’t. But then I thought, “Why not write one?” So, I sat down and wrote a short script called The Multi in three days. It’s a story about mental health and trauma, something deeply personal to me. I sent it in, got the grant — $3,000 — and thought, “Okay, I can shoot this on my phone. Keep it small and simple. Just me in a room.”
But as I kept reading over the script, I realized how much I believed in the story. It needed more than a phone. So, I decided to invest in it myself. I dipped into my savings and put $30,000 of my own money into the project. That was terrifying — swallowing that number was hard — but I trusted my gut and went for it.
The project became a SAG micro-budget film. I built a team, hired a DP, and followed all the COVID compliance protocols, including zone A and B guidelines. I worked with a composer, giving him clear direction on the music, and collaborated with the entire team to bring the vision to life. I put everything I had into it, and in the end, I made a beautiful film.
It’s a piece of work I’m really proud of. Once the film was done, I put together the EPK (Electronic Press Kit), got everything set up on Film Freeway, and started submitting it to film festivals. My only goal was to get accepted into one film festival. Just one, and I would’ve been happy.
But then I got into 14 festivals. It was incredible. The film premiered at BFI in London, which is such a prestigious institution, and the response was overwhelming. People were blown away by the film, and I couldn’t believe it. One acceptance turned into another and another.
It is not often you meet someone like me — a Black, Deaf woman filmmaker, producer, and director who can create and tell authentic stories that resonate with people on a large scale.
One of the most exciting moments came when a showrunner from Warner Brothers saw my film at Slamdance. They contacted my agency, and I got an interview for her writer’s room for an untitled show she was working on. During the interview, she told me, “I saw your film.” I was stunned. I realized you never know who’s watching your work, no matter where they are in the world. That’s why you have to keep going, keep having faith, and trust the process.
But with all of that success, I still feel this constant pressure. The more I achieve, the more people expect of me. The bar just keeps getting raised higher and higher, and sometimes I wonder, “When will I get my real chance? When will it feel like I’ve fully broken through?”
I know I’ve proven myself, but it always feels like I need to do more. And that’s what drives me — to keep making beautiful stories, to keep pushing boundaries. Right now, I have my next project in hand — a feature film script that I wrote. It’s sitting right here, and I can’t wait to bring it to life.
And when I sat down with Christy Hall, a director for Dadido, she said something that stuck with me. She told me, “You did it. Pat yourself on the back. Natasha, I’ve been in this business for many years, and people don’t finish scripts. I’ve talked to writers who’ve been working on a script for 10 years and still haven’t finished. But you did. You finished it.”
That conversation made me realize how important it is to reframe my perspective and celebrate my wins. Even if Hollywood might not be fully ready for me yet, I need to acknowledge what I’ve accomplished. I need to celebrate my victories.
For example, I need to celebrate being the creative director and lead performer in the Coldplay music video, feelslikeimfallinginlove. That’s huge. I need to let myself feel proud of that. Too often, I focus on what’s next or what I haven’t achieved yet, and I forget to take a moment to look back and honor what I have done.
That’s why my vision board has been so important to me. I started doing a vision board every year in 2019, and it’s amazing to look back and see the things I’ve accomplished. I’ll check it and think, “Oh, I did that. And that. And that.” It’s a reminder to keep going, even when things feel hard. I’ve started making my vision board for 2025, and it’s full of goals that excite me. It keeps me focused and reminds me of the impact I want to make.
Yitzi: Visiting schools and inspiring children, especially Black Deaf girls, seems deeply personal to you. What do you hope they take away from meeting you?
One of the most fulfilling moments in my journey happened when I visited an elementary school in Harbor City. The teacher there wanted someone like me — a Black Deaf woman — to come and speak to the students. I don’t do traditional long speeches, though. Instead, I keep it brief — maybe five minutes — and then I sit on the floor with the kids, play games, and ask them how they’re feeling.
When I arrived at the school, the students ran up to me and hugged me. There were so many Black Deaf girls, and seeing them filled me with emotions I can’t even fully describe. I hadn’t seen that many Black Deaf girls in one place in such a long time, and the excitement they had to meet an adult who looked like them was overwhelming. It gave me goosebumps.
It reminded me why I do this — why I fight so hard in this industry, even when it’s difficult. It’s for them. It’s so they can see what’s possible. It’s so they know that someone like them is out here, creating and succeeding and that they can, too.
This industry is hard — it’s very hard — but those moments give me the motivation to keep going. To keep showing up. To keep creating.
And every day, I practice gratitude. That’s what keeps me grounded. I wake up and think about the things I’m thankful for, no matter how small.
Yitzi: Wow, you have such an incredible journey and story. I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I think I’ve personally interviewed over 1,000 people, but I’ve never had an interview as profound, poignant, and moving as yours. I’m really, really inspired just hearing from you.
Natasha: Thank you. I really appreciate it. That means so much to me. I feel seen, and I’m trying to keep my emotions in check because it’s not often that you get the opportunity to share these pieces of yourself. Walking through all these memories right now — it’s been emotional. I didn’t realize how much it would hit me. I’m sitting here thinking, “Whoa… wow, what a journey.”
But there’s one more thing I’d like to share because I think it ties into why I’m so persistent, why I push myself so hard.
When I was six, I got hit by a car in Santa Monica. My Mom did the March of Dimes walk every year, and this happened after one of her walks. I was with my aunt while my mom finished her walk. I was trying to cross a small residential street in Santa Monica when it happened.
People saw it happen. They witnessed the car hit me and saw me go flying. I was rushed to Kaiser Children’s Hospital, and that was the moment I truly realized I was Deaf. I had been Deaf since I was 18 months old, but up until then, I didn’t feel different. My mom had always accepted me for who I was, and I just lived my life without thinking too much about it.
But in the chaos of the ER, I remember going in and out of consciousness, and I couldn’t hear anything. Everyone was talking around me, and I couldn’t hear a word. That was the first time I really made the connection that I was different.
I ended up being in the hospital for three months. It was a life-changing experience — my closest experience with death — and it forced me to see the world in a new way. It added another layer to everything I had already experienced, even at such a young age. Things I shouldn’t have had to understand at that age, I did.
After three months in the hospital, I went home in a full body cast that I had to wear for eight weeks. Then came physical therapy, where I had to learn to walk again. It took about six months total before I fully recovered.
But the thing I remember most about that time is that I wasn’t sad about it. I didn’t let it break me. I was determined. I kept saying, “I’m going to walk again. This isn’t the end of me — let’s go.”
Looking back now, I think, “That’s the Natasha I carry with me every day.” That six-year-old girl was so strong, so resilient. And that mindset — of not giving up, of facing challenges head-on — has stuck with me ever since.
When I reflect on that moment, I can’t help but think, “Damn, girl! You’ve always been strong.” It’s probably the foundation for why I keep going, why I refuse to stop, even when the odds are stacked against me. It’s part of who I am.
Yitzi: Incredible. This is our aspirational question that we ask in all our interviews. Because of your amazing work and the platform that you’ve built, you’re a person of enormous influence. If you could spread an idea or inspire a movement that would bring the most amount of good to the most amount of people, what would that be?
Natasha: Wow, that’s a great question. I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s a movement, but there are two pieces of advice I always give people.
First, be kind. Period. Kindness is free, and there’s never a reason not to practice it. It doesn’t cost you anything to treat others with kindness, and the ripple effect it can have is immeasurable.
Second, accept people for who they are, as they are. That’s it. No expectations, no conditions. You have to accept the whole person — their flaws, their differences, everything. When you do that, you open both your mind and your heart to learning and listening. That’s when you’re able to truly connect.
When we accept each other as we are, we create space to come to a common ground, even if we don’t agree on everything. It’s not about perfect understanding. It’s about respect and love — choosing to see each other as human first. Maybe you don’t agree on every little thing, but if you’re truly listening, if you’re truly open, that love and understanding can still grow.
I think so much of our tension comes from the expectations we place on others — what we think they should be, how they should act. If we could let go of that, if we could just ask ourselves, “Am I accepting them? Am I seeing them for who they really are?” — then we’d be able to see how much we have in common.
If everyone practiced kindness and acceptance, it would expand minds and hearts in ways we can’t even imagine. And while the world will never be perfect — that’s okay, too. Perfection isn’t the goal. The goal is understanding, harmony, and a shared respect for one another.
That’s what I believe. That’s what I would love to see.
Yitzi: How can our readers continue to follow your work? How can they watch your films, and how can they support you in any possible way?
Natasha: I have my website, natashaofili.com. That’s the best place to keep up with my work. I’m also on Instagram (@natasha_ofili), though I don’t post often. When I do post, it’s usually something meaningful — something I want to share, whether it’s information, thoughts, or just gratitude. I try to use my platform to build a connection with people in that way.
As for my short film, I’ll send it to you directly, and you can share it with your network. I haven’t released it to the public yet because I’m currently working on expanding it into a feature film. The script is already in progress, and I’m really excited about where it’s heading.
So, those are two ways people can follow my work — through my website and Instagram — and stay tuned for what’s coming next.
Yitzi: Unbelievable. Well, Natasha, we wish you continued success and blessings. I really hope we can do this again next year.
Natasha: Yes, definitely! I look forward to it. Thank you so much for your time — I really appreciate it. I needed this energy boost, and you just gave me that. It’s a little lift for the rest of my day, so thank you. I’m so delighted.
Unstoppable: How Actress & Filmmaker Natasha Ofili Has Redefined Success While Navigating Society… was originally published in Authority Magazine on Medium, where people are continuing the conversation by highlighting and responding to this story.