We sat down with Jess Telling to talk about their new show, Chameleon. This dark comedy play is a fearless exposé of life as a recently diagnosed autistic woman living beyond the spectrum whilst navigating a new relationship. The play follows its heroine on her journey of candid self-discovery as she is launched headfirst into an identity crisis.
See Chameleon at The Glitch (VAULT Creative Arts) in London from the 27th August – 1st September at 7pm (additional performance at 2pm on 30th August). Book tickets here.
What does it mean to “blend in” when the world was never built to hold your shape in the first place?
With ‘Chameleon’, I wanted to challenge the idea that “blending in” means total self-erasure. We’ve all been Chameleons at one point or another, whether intentionally or by force. I wrote ‘Chameleon’ to explore how so many of us – especially autistic women and people of marginalised genders – mask ourselves daily to survive in a world that punishes difference. Masking becomes the default and, eventually, you forget where the performance ends and where you begin.
But this play isn’t just about trauma, it’s about resistance. Chameleon’s journey of reclaiming her identity and reimagining herself outside the expectations constantly placed on her allows us to question where we are forcing ourselves to blend in. By allowing ourselves to stand out, we start to uncover new parts of ourselves we never knew were there and shed a bit of our camouflage too.
How do you write about trauma without letting it define your character—or how the audience sees her?
I drew heavily from my personal experiences of emotional abuse, which I struggled to name for years. It took time to admit to myself that I was a survivor of abuse, minimizing it and believing my abuser’s words – that what he did to me was normal, that I just didn’t understand because I was autistic. I feared being reduced to my trauma, but I’ve since learned I am much more than that.
Chameleon’s character was written as both a reflection of the person I was and the person I wish I’d been. I found power in that, and I hope that she can encourage other survivors to be brave and to always know that they are more than their trauma.
This story is not just one about abuse, it’s about the power in regaining confidence after trauma and finding community – one that uplifts and supports you. I’ve found so much strength in this since opening up about my experience, and I’ve met so many wonderful and brave survivors that I cannot imagine my life without.
In telling such a personal story, where did you draw the line between catharsis and exposure?
Writing is my sanctuary – a way to make sense of it all and unmask who I really am, a process that continues as I grow as a person and as a writer. But ‘Chameleon’ required careful balance between catharsis and retraumatising myself. Some experiences were too raw to include, as I wanted ‘Chameleon’ to focus on the realities of abuse and remain empowering for survivors.
Directing as well as writing meant I had a duty to constantly ask myself: am I protecting myself, the cast, and the audience? Ultimately, this wasn’t about exposure, it’s about a need for connection. Sharing my story in hopes that someone else might feel seen.
How do you navigate being misinterpreted by a neurotypical audience while staying authentic?
Initially, I found myself masking even in the script, worried about alienating audiences. I feared that being honest about the parts of being autistic that I really struggle with – that I find debilitating – might be too much, for both a neurotypical and neurodivergent audience.
But at the same time, being autistic is my reality, it is central to my identity. There’s so many amazing things about it that shape how I see and navigate the world and I wouldn’t change that for anything.
‘Chamelelon’ is about what it’s like to feel out of place, to laugh at the wrong time, and to feel like you’re never getting it “quite right”. It’s grounded in my autistic experience, but it’s not exclusive to it.
Also, the beauty of theatre is that it’s subjective. Each person interprets what they saw on stage differently, and I enjoy hearing every single take, even when it differs from what I expected. But if the choice is between being misunderstood or being inauthentic, I’ll always choose to be authentic in my writing.
What responsibilities do artists have when representing underrepresented identities onstage?
It always starts with intentional practice. For me, I knew that it was essential for Chameleon, our autistic heroine, to be portrayed by an autistic actress. The groundwork to be an authentic and well-informed company grew from there. That level of shared understanding and intention feeds into our deliberate, honest process and cannot be manufactured.
However, I know that no autistic person’s experience is the same. As a company, it’s imperative that we keep learning. We’re constantly asking ourselves: where can we do more and how can we show up for our community? We’re lucky enough to have teamed up with PhD Researcher Sarah Jane Nuttall, who is helping us lead focus groups and gather audience feedback so we can better understand how Chameleon is received and where it still has room to grow.
Can theatre be both a safe space and one that confronts hidden realities?
It absolutely can and, in my opinion, it has to be.
I always say that theatre should reflect the culture of our society; the joyful, the difficult, and the urgent. The power lies in platforming underrepresented voices and forcing ourselves to confront the everyday problems that we prefer to ignore.
As an autistic person, the likelihood is that you will understand and live the challenging parts of being autistic everyday. I, and every other autistic person, live it every single day. It’s not something that needs to be explained to you through theatre but, it’s incredibly validating to see those real-life experiences reflected onstage, particularly the unexpected joys that come with it. That’s what Chameleon is.
So, yes, theatre can be a safe space and a space that dares to speak hard truths often unsaid. When it’s done with care, dedication and intention, theatre is one of the few places where it can be both.