People I know now see me as someone who’s already made it, an established rising actor with projects everywhere they look. I don’t blame them. Between being glammed up on red carpets and posing under flashing lights at TIFF, I almost forget too. 

What they don’t see are the hours spent making my own dresses for premieres or the days I would stand at a bus stop with near-empty pockets, because I could barely afford the fare to get to my acting class. The dream felt a million miles away and completely out of reach. But I was too ambitious to be scared of the distance. I knew it would be a marathon.

Growing up, most kids wanted to be astronauts, dancers, or singers. I wanted to be everything in between, so I became an actor. It was the only path where I wouldn’t have to choose, where I could live a hundred different lives in one career.

Then adulthood hit. To make money, you have to spend money. So I got my first job in 2015 at Williams Fresh Café at the Waterfront in Hamilton. Minimum wage was about $10 an hour. I romanticized the grind, just like in cartoons, saving up for your first car or a dream prom dress. 

Those rose-colored glasses cracked fast, especially during those midnight closing shifts when I would come home at one in the morning. But, the idea of quitting had not crossed my mind. I was feeling independent, inspired, and ready to get this dream rolling. 

That same year, at the age of 17, I joined my first acting class, and in walked my acting coach, Jacob Kraemer, whom I grew up watching on Overruled, among countless other nostalgic shows.   

I remember thinking, this is it! This is the beginning of the dream and I was exactly where I needed to be.   

And for a while, things were working. I paid for acting classes and threw myself in front of a camera where I could. Some of my first auditions were student film projects held in university and college classrooms. I didn’t care. I was holding a script. That was enough.

Eventually, I started booking small roles on American TV shows and I thought my breakthrough was around the corner. What I didn't see coming was the total opposite: a breakdown.

When I turned 24, my apartment went up in a major fire and every dollar I saved went towards rebuilding my life. For the first time, I had lost complete control of myself and became a shell of a human while drowning in anxiety and battling insecurities I'd never known. 

And to add insult to injury, the film industry was in turmoil due to writer strikes. 

In 2023, I began drafting my letter to my agent expressing that I was quitting acting to pursue another career that would allow me to fall back on my degree in anthropology. 

In hindsight, letting go of everything I was working towards wasn’t a split-second decision, it was a last-ditch effort not to lose myself. I was dissociating for self-preservation, I guess. 

And just as the rug was being pulled from under me, my agent called.

“I have good news Feaven, you booked a role in a comedy called Doin’ It, starring Lily Singh.”

I swear, it felt like I got hit by a bus. My body completely gave out. I thanked God I hadn't sent that email. 

Things only shifted after that. Soon after I landed an episode on the American medical drama Doc. And last summer, I booked a role on Netflix's psychological thriller series Wayward while I was shooting A Tribe Called Love, a modern and cultural reimagining of Romeo and Juliet, both of which were shot in Toronto.

I couldn't help but think about the Feaven that lost everything, this win was for her. 

And now, with a movie out, a number one rated show on Netflix and a Toronto premiere underway for a project so close to my heart, I still haven't fully processed any of it.

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People often thank me for contributing to the representation of not only Black-Canadian actors, but women with Ethiopian roots. And it means more than I can say. 

Looking back, the only person I saw onscreen who looked like me was Araya Mengesha on YTV’s Mystery Hunters. Seeing him was my confirmation that I can do this. And I’ll do it my way.

Today, I feel an intense responsibility to make my community proud and play characters with depth and complexity. From Jasmine, a character who calls out the sex education system in her school, to Kendall whose trauma is deeply punished. Each role forced me to reflect on how my own youth was policed. Healing me in the process.

If I could talk to my younger self, I’d say: You were right. Your imagination, your voice, your feelings. They were real and valid. And I'm sorry I listened to the voices that told me you were wrong.

I hope audiences watching these projects feel encouraged to take a leap of faith in honour of themselves. To practice self-love and self-care and follow their heart. 

And maybe, just maybe, it reminds people to have more compassion for our youth. 

Because once upon a time, we were all just kids with ridiculous dreams, trying to take the road less travelled.

You can pre-order Doin’ It on Amazon Prime and stream Wayward on Netflix.