A year ago today, I was told I could not continue in my PhD program at NYU. I wasn't given a real answer as to why—but it was the worst day of my life.

Two weeks later, during a mediation with my adviser, I learned that it was because she "didn't have time" for my disability. I was told that having autism was a detriment to the lab, and that the extra time I would need to ask questions and fulfill tasks was a hindrance. I was told my academics and scientific knowledge were superb, but it didn't matter, because my disability was too much to handle.

I broke down crying about The Acolyte tonight. I've been grieving privately for days and I needed to let it all out.

This show means more to me than words can say. It made me feel seen as a female Star Wars fan, and as a woman who is taught by society to hide her rage. I grieve for the show, for not knowing if I will ever know what happens next, for the characters, and for the cast and crew who put their heart and soul into it.