An accomplished actress, Lauren Ridloff has captivated audiences from the stage and screen in her Tony-nominated role as Sarah Norman in Children of a Lesser God on Broadway, as a series regular on the long-running series The Walking Dead, and as Makkari, the first deaf superhero in Marvel’s global hit Eternals.

An accomplished teacher, Ridloff has taught kindergarten and been an American Sign Language tutor. An accomplished nurturer, she is a mom to two boys and a passionate accessibility and inclusion advocate. Surprisingly, or perhaps not so surprisingly, there is a camp connection to many of these facets of Ridloff’s makeup.

You went to summer camp. What kind of camp did you attend and how old were you?

I attended Camp Lions in DeKalb, Illinois, when I was nine years old, and I kept going back every summer until the summer after my freshman year of high school.

I’m told you made the decision that you would only communicate through American Sign Language (ASL) at camp and consider your camp experience to have been a life-defining moment. Can you elaborate on that?

Growing up as the only Deaf kid in my family, I often wrestled with my identity. I attended a private school where almost all the students were hearing, and I spent much of my childhood trying to adapt to a world that did not naturally fit me.

Camp Lions was the first place where everyone signed. All the campers were Deaf, and the counselors were either Deaf or hearing and fluent in ASL. For the first time I felt completely free and unfettered by how I sounded or how well I spoke. I was not performing communication. I was simply communicating.

At camp I stepped into leadership roles, learned skills like archery and rowing, showed off the skills I already had, and roasted marshmallows with friends. Everything felt magically easy. I realized that when I was immersed in a community that shared my language and experiences, I could be my most authentic self. My camp experience let me explore and choose who I wanted to be.

Being surrounded by Deaf people of all ages gave me a sense of confidence that I carried home with me. I even had a camp boyfriend my last year. During the school year I stayed in touch with my camp friends through the TTY, which was our version of the phone before iPhones, and through snail mail. I lived for those two weeks every year. My cabin was called Heavenly Haven, and Camp Lions truly was my heavenly haven.

You are an accomplished actress. For all those folks out there who have stepped out of their comfort zones — or into their comfort zones, as the case may be — and graced stages at summer camps across the country, can you talk a little bit about how you got interested in acting and your acting journey so far? What was it like to star in the revival of Children of a Lesser God on Broadway?

During my first summer I was voted Quietest Camper. My second year I was voted Bookworm. By my third year, after feeling genuinely safe and understood, I finally found the courage to step outside my comfort zone. I joined the talent show and entered public speaking competitions, and little by little I learned how to get comfortable with being uncomfortable. That lesson from camp colored many of my choices as an actor.

Starring in the Broadway revival of Children of a Lesser God was both an honor and a responsibility. It led to more acting opportunities and more avenues to push for meaningful change. Who knows, someone who was deemed the quietest camper may have seen my work and felt compelled to step out of their comfort zone?

Did your time in a summer camp community help prepare you at all for the communal living atmosphere of The Walking Dead? What was it like to be part of such a compelling story and cast?

I loved being part of The Walking Dead, not only because of its cultural reach and its portrayal of two people on the spectrum of deafness, but also because of the deep sense of family fostered on set. Camp teaches you cooperation, collaboration, and communication — skills that are essential when you are working closely with the same group of people every day. It felt like the grown up version of cabin life, only with a few more zombies wandering around.

You are an advocate for accessibility and inclusion. Can you talk a little bit about your advocacy, what motivates you, and what you strive to achieve?

I think about my sons. They both are deaf, like me. I want them to grow up in a world that makes sense to them and needs them. Lately, I have been thinking more about the idea of integration rather than the idea of inclusion. Inclusion can feel like asking people to squeeze together to make room for one more, which still implies that there is a boundary between those who already belong and those who are being added in.

To me, integration means building systems and environments where everyone already belongs. It feels seamless. There is a quote from Verna Myers that I love. She says, “Diversity is being invited to the dance. Inclusion is being asked to dance.” I want to expound on that idea with integration as being part of the planning committee for the dance in the first place!

I want more people with disabilities in the rooms where decisions are made. That is where true accessibility begins. Not as an afterthought, but at the moment when ideas are being created and become universal design.

People often have a desire to communicate with and learn about individuals who may on the surface seem very different from themselves, and they can let fear get in the way of attempting to make a connection. What advice would you give them?

When we are young, many of us are taught not to stare and not to look at someone who seems different, because we are told it is rude. But the worst thing we can do is make someone feel invisible. I want to be seen. I want to be heard. Eye contact and simple acknowledgment mean so much — the beginning of connection.

Approach people with curiosity rather than perfection. It is not about having the right script or the perfect words. Honest intentions and a willingness to be present, to listen, and to learn is my advice.

Start with genuine recognition. Look, smile, say hello.

Any other advice you would give camps with a genuine desire to ensure that camp is a place of belonging for all who attend?

Belonging begins long before a camper ever arrives. It starts with who is planning the programs, shaping the policies, and designing the environment. When people with different lived experiences, including people with disabilities, are part of that process, belonging becomes a natural result rather than something that must be added later.

That could be done by hiring staff who represent the campers. At camp, lead with communication access; make the information visual (schedules, sing-along songs, etc.). Making those things part of the camp experience for everyone, instead of as a temporary add-on for the few, makes campers feel that they are expected to be part of that world.

But most of all, observe and listen. Look for reactions — sometimes campers with differences are shy in expressing themselves or maybe even struggle with identifying what they need or want, so pay attention. The signs are always there. This is when staff who represent the campers are able to provide guidance and support for other staff and campers.

Belonging starts long before anyone arrives at camp. It starts with who is at the table when decisions are made — who is designing the programs, who is training the staff, who is shaping policies. And when it’s done right, belonging is a feeling that never leaves.

Photos courtesy of Kiddie Keep Well Camp, Edison, NJ.

Interview conducted by Marcia Ellett, editor in chief of Camping Magazine.