I learned to walk and dance almost at the same time. Dance was my first language, my way of filling the air with rhythm and story. Being born with a limb difference — my left arm ends just below the elbow — made that rhythm stronger.
I was 18 months old when I first came to Holland Bloorview Kids Rehabilitation Hospital, Canada’s hospital for kids with disabilities. While I don’t remember that moment, I remember the years after: stepping into a place where difference wasn’t something to hide or “fix,” but a starting point for what could be possible.
Kids with disabilities deserve a world of accessibility, inclusion and belonging. That’s why I’m an honorary chair for Holland Bloorview’s Together We Dare campaign, which is raising $100 million so kids with disabilities get the care they need, whenever they need it, no matter where they are.
And today, I dare you to stop looking away.
One of my first prosthetics was a myoelectric arm, created at Holland Bloorview where they developed the first commercially available myoelectric prosthetic hands and arms for kids. Tiny sensors picked up electrical signals from my upper arm muscles, letting me open and close the hand by flexing. I didn’t know the science then, but I knew what it gave me: a chance to do more.
That blend of technology and care has shaped my life in ways I’m still discovering. Dance came first, but running found me later. Growing up in a track family, speed was always in my blood. Sprinting came with challenges, like explosive starts, balance, precision. That’s when Holland Bloorview’s orthotics and prosthetics team stepped in. My prosthetist added a wrist insert piece for my starting blocks, helping weight stay even so I could launch faster.
According to Dr. Andrysek, a scientist and engineer at hospital’s Bloorview Research Institute, 3D printing means faster turnaround times, fewer appointments, and more chances to customize each piece for exactly how a child moves, plays, or competes. Not only is 3D printing a major innovation in how we make prosthetic devices. It can help make orthotics and prosthetics more affordable and help kids get the care they need faster than ever before.
“Before, custom prosthetic devices were made entirely by hand,” Dr. Andrysek says. “Now we can scan a child’s anatomy, design digitally, and print a device that uniquely fits their exact needs.” Prosthetics aren’t just tools. They become part of your body’s story, changing not just how you move, but how you see yourself. One of my favourite prosthetics is my “tumbler arm,” a mushroom-shaped attachment that’s perfect for push-ups, handstands, or anything that needs extra stability.
That’s why Holland Bloorview’s model matters: researchers and clinicians working side by side so innovation doesn’t get stuck in a lab. Ideas make their way into kids’ lives quickly, and those lives get bigger because of it.
My attachments have gone beyond everyday use — biking, skiing, swimming, playing guitar — each one adjusted by my prosthetist so it didn’t just look right, it worked right.
At 16, that mix of sport and support took me from my first international race in Switzerland to the Paralympics, with each step fueled by people who believed in me.
Now, at 18, my life has stretched into new arenas. I still run and dance, but I’ve also stepped into acting.
I know what it feels like to be a kid wondering if the world will make space for you. And I know how powerful it is when someone dares to believe in you before you believe in yourself.
That’s why I’m daring you to stop looking away. Not because I want the spotlight, but because avoiding difference doesn’t make it disappear.
For me, daring isn’t about being fearless — it’s about saying yes to possibilities that might scare you. And if living boldly has taught me anything, it’s this: when you stop looking away, you start seeing what’s possible.