The Truth

The most terrifying thing a person can do is be vulnerable. This becomes even more terrifying in the digital age. With every click, snap, post, and share, we open ourselves up to instant scrutiny, inviting the world to weigh in. Honesty, in this landscape, means surrendering control over how we are perceived and accepting that our truth might not always land as we hope.

Tommy Dorfman has made this kind of honesty foundational to her work. Her memoir, Maybe This Will Save Me, out May 27th, delves into the complexities of addiction, identity, transition, and survival. It traces how these experiences shaped who Tommy has become and how she chooses to live openly, despite the risks of misinterpretation or judgment.

This same vulnerability defines Tommy’s career. From her breakout role in 13 Reasons Why, which explored the fragile boundaries of adolescent self-expression, to her stage performances in Romeo and Juliet and Becoming Eve, Tommy consistently seeks roles that demand real presence, authenticity, and emotional clarity.

Tommy reflects on why she continues to embrace vulnerability, how she navigates public scrutiny, and why the rewards of living truthfully still outweigh the odds.

On Vulnerability

My household was foundationally honest and open, at times verging on oversharing. Growing up with four older siblings and a large extended family left us with a lot of room to get away with precarious and, at times, dangerous activities. However, my parents were lenient in their rule-making and rule-breaking practices. I was afforded immense grace so long as I fessed up to whatever shenanigans I engaged in. Instilling a sense of safety in honesty boosted my confidence to carry that same clarity and vulnerability into adulthood—and ultimately, my career and public endeavors.

I’m not particularly interested in a life without risk, both personally and professionally, and my insatiable curiosity, married with a fairly optimistic outlook, gives me the courage to live expansively. In moments when fear and self-doubt inevitably creep in, I just remind myself that I have one life and I have to live it expansively. The gifts that come from vulnerability and honesty—like friendships, relationships, and creative collaborations—far outweigh the loneliness of overthinking and hiding myself from the world. Risk is everywhere, and life is entirely up to chance, so letting that fear of falling, failing, or not being liked or accepted prevent me from growing into my full potential would be a waste of a life for me.

I try not to view public criticisms or bullying as a consequence of my honesty and vulnerability, but as opportunities to learn and grow. Sometimes what feels truthful to me in a moment is a reaction to what’s happening—like when I say the wrong thing, take a less-than-ideal approach, or impulsively post something I shouldn’t. In those moments, I try to afford myself grace and some space to take a step back, take responsibility, and make amends when appropriate. Then I have to move on.

On Self-Expression

Working as an artist in different disciplines, through various mediums, publicly and privately, affords me the autonomy of choosing how, when, and why I tell stories. Over the past few years, I’ve committed to intentionality in exhibition, ensuring that I’m as prepared and confident as possible when I release my work to a larger audience.

I love acting because it’s the ultimate surrender, on stage to the process of taking a massive leap of faith for that first preview with an audience and then again eight times a week for weeks on end, trusting scene partners and every department to show up with the same level of vulnerability and commitment to the work as I do; on screen, I’m surrendering to the edit, the director's vision, what needs to happen for the episode or film to pay off as fully as possible. I cannot over-invest in the outcome because ultimately it’s about the process and preparing as fully as possible to show up and be present in every take or show I get to do.

Thinking about vulnerability on social media is the only place I now feel anxious. Every shared or tagged moment, comment, post, etc., is up for public debate and discussion in ways that can be volatile. It used to be a fun place to drop shit, vent, share moments of life with the world, but over time, what with the larger, looming conservatism suffocating us, it’s felt progressively more violent. Every time I post on Instagram, I have a recurring image of Zuck dressed in Benson Boone drag, summoning the worst kind of ancestral demons, ultimately failing to do a back flip and landing instead on his knees in front of Donald Trump begging daddy for a little extra love. It’s a fever dream out here, and I wish my cultural capital wasn’t directly tied to making art so that my authenticity can be reserved for the characters I play, movies I write and direct, projects I produce, and books I write.

On Carving A Path

Building a sustainable career as an artist hasn’t been a matter of choices so much as survival tactics. I was always planning on theater; however, after college, those weren’t the jobs that were available to me. I got lucky with 13 Reasons Why and the doors it opened for me. From there it’s been years of no no no no–okay yes–maybe–no no no–maybe–no no no–sure–no. I got tired of trying to convince people of my worth as an artist and knew early on that if I wanted a fulfilling career in entertainment, I would have to self-produce, self-motivate, self-create, and in time attract like-minded collaborators whose passion matched their talent and drive. While we can reduce it to conformity, particularly in more broad-stroke commercial media, I do firmly believe there’s incredible value (and there always has been) in individuality in my industry. There’s still a lot of success to be found by staying honest about who you are and what you want to make, not letting the noise of those around you influence or infiltrate your process too much. It’s a long game with lots of loving pieces that I can’t control.

Now, the larger constrictions of myself as a trans artist and my trans siblings in an industry that’s scared to tell trans stories is a challenge, and for that I rely on allies with more power than me in the industry to advocate for and support the work I’m making with their resources or access to resources or talent. Nicole Kidman is a great example of this as a movie star invested in helping less-established filmmakers make their dreams come true. Not all people with that kind of sway and greenlightability are interested in helping anyone beyond themselves, even when they claim to be. I’ve learned to be self-sufficient and am working toward becoming as vertically integrated with my production company and partners as possible.

Also, I care less about failure or success; I care more about creating, often dozens of projects and stories at a time, until the one that’s destined to soar takes off.

On the Intersection of Risk and Reward

Art should be a service to others so I try not to stress about what I’m sharing or not sharing. For as much criticism and negativity there is in response to what I share, there’s double the affirmation, love, and support. Also, I know that I speak to a more niche audience than most people, but that’s always excited me, building real connections with fans and friends over time, growing with a community of people instead of wasting energy trying to reach everybody. Attraction rather than promotion, if you will.

When things get messy or misunderstood or I feel too raw, I just take a few steps back. Nobody owes the world all of themselves, and I try to remain strategic about what I do or don’t offer to others. The entertainment industry just isn’t worth crashing out over publicly or privately. I’m not an ER doctor, I’m not an activist, I’m an artist, and it can be maddening to get stuck in the murky waters of my creations, but it’s not world-ending, and there’s always another path to take.

I’m in a brief limbo between nine months of acting on stage in two vastly different productions while producing film and television projects during the day, and going on a mini-book tour before going into prep for my second film as a director. Even writing this sentence is a reminder of how fucking lucky I am to do what I do on any level and public judgment or certain success/failure indicators can’t get in the way of that.

On her memoir, Maybe This Will Save Me

When I decided to write a book, not knowing it would turn out to be this one, I knew it would be sacrificial, and anything I put on the page and ultimately published couldn’t be censored. I needed enough perspective on the vignettes of my life that are explored in Maybe This Will Save Me to incorporate them into the book, and because I have that perspective, I no longer feel tied to those stories. They’re history and this book calcifies that for me in a cathartic and bound package. I am openly an exhibitionist by nature, and as a byproduct of how I approach my artistry and career. I hope that readers will find parts of themselves in the book and parts of people in their lives; that they can tap into the emotional experience and let go of the specific circumstances that I went through to gain a new perspective on addiction, identity, recovery, love, heartbreak, and life.