Jaylee Hamidi on manifesting self-love and dream roles

As a queer, mixed-race (Kurdish, Iranian, and Chinese) performer, Jaylee Hamidi is too unique to put in a box. Her characters exude empathy and realness, which Hamidi has made her mission to bring to the screen. With the release of How to Die Alone, Natasha Rothwell’s series that explores a young woman’s inner musings after a near-death experience, Hamidi talks about finding empowerment among her peers, the possibilities of queer representation, and how finding love starts with finding yourself.

This interview has been edited for clarity and length.

Angela Wong Carbone: I found How To Die Alone to be a really fun, inclusive cast. It felt like a warm hug to watch. How did you feel about shooting it, and what made this project exciting for you?
Jaylee Hamidi: I’m so glad you felt that way because that’s exactly what I felt when I first read the script. As a mixed-race person, I’ve often played characters that were just kind of there to deliver a message. But this role was different—it was a whole, fully realized character.

Allie was special to me because we shared a lot in common. We’re both pansexual and on a journey of self-discovery. I was excited because I had admired Natasha [Rothwell]’s work, especially from Insecure and White Lotus. She wrote this project for herself, which I found inspiring.

I was eager to portray real life—messy relationships, messy people, just realness on screen.

AWC: The world of the show feels authentic, like you’re right there in New York. Did the script start that way? What did you bring to the material?
JH: When actors receive sides and a breakdown, they’re like a guideline. I’ve worked a lot of jobs in the past, and in any role, you end up doing more than what’s in your job description. As a bartender, for example, you become a therapist, seeing people at their highs, lows, best, and worst. That’s what I brought into Allie—someone who’s pansexual, left her husband, dabbles in ayahuasca, and talks about horoscopes. These are traits, but I filtered them through my own experiences to make her feel authentic.

AWC: What was it like working with the cast and crew, and what made this experience unique?
JH: It’s so important to work on a set where the tone has been set for a safe and inclusive environment. This set respected all identities—queer, diverse races, and abilities—which is the foundation of a high-functioning and happy set.

Natasha tackles these issues in each episode: “I’m learning to love my size, and my size is valid.” That message was very empowering. I’ve worked on sets where I was shamed for my size or race, where makeup artists complained about blending for my skin tone, or I was given clothes that were too small just to humiliate me. There was a stark contrast here. Christina, our costume designer, made me feel amazing in every episode. She allowed us to collaborate and create authentic looks for each character.

Lighting is also huge for people of color, especially Black and Latinx folks. As someone mixed-race, proper lighting was crucial, and they took great care with it. Having women of color direct every episode in season one was a surreal, dreamlike experience.

AWC: How do you think Allie’s character might expand the narrative for pansexual people or those within the larger queer community?
JH: Seeing someone like Allie authentically on screen is huge. Growing up as a queer kid of color, I didn’t see characters like that—empowered, not the butt of the joke or made to seem lewd.

I would have benefited from seeing characters who looked like me and were openly queer and unashamed. Allie shows that if you’re not valued in a situation, you can leave. She’s discovering who she is and letting go of the things that hold her back. That’s so powerful for queer kids, especially mixed-race ones, who may have to sever ties with old identities to grow. It’s scary, but Allie’s bravery shows that you deserve better.

AWC: How did growing up in China shape your identity?
JH: Growing up, people only saw me as Chinese and ignored the other parts of my identity. Western media tends to put people into boxes. I’m half-Chinese and half-Iranian—my dad was Kurdish Iranian—and I grew up immersed in both cultures. But I also lived in a very racist community, and as an actor, I constantly had to fight stereotypes. I was either “not Asian enough” or only cast as the receptionist or some invisible role meant to serve the story.

It took time, but my career shifted as more directors, showrunners, and actors started advocating for diversity. Now, I can explore characters as a whole person, not just some checkmark for representation.

We spend so much time worrying about whether someone else will like us. But do you like yourself? Do you like yourself enough to date yourself?

AWC: Do you have any advice for our readers about self-love or love in general?
JH: We often look for things in relationships with others, but we should start by finding them within ourselves. We spend so much time worrying about whether someone else will like us. But do you like yourself? Do you like yourself enough to date yourself?

Go out to dinner with yourself, read a book, or take yourself to a movie. These are all amazing ways to get to know yourself better and fill up your own cup.