Today we’d like to introduce you to Lilith Grace.
Alright, so thank you so much for sharing your story and insight with our readers. To kick things off, can you tell us a bit about how you got started?
I don’t know if there was ever one moment where it all began. My story has always felt more like a slow unfolding than a single spark. Art was never a choice, it was just a part of me, woven into the fabric of my childhood in ways I didn’t even recognize at the time. My dad would sing and play guitar, and I would hum along before I knew what melody even meant. I grew up moving between cultures, languages, and places, which gave me a sense of curiosity about people, identity, and the quiet spaces in between.
I spent a portion of my life in ballet studios, learning discipline and grace and how to express things without words. Ballet was my world for a while, until it wasn’t. Leaving it was like losing a version of myself. But looking back, I think it was necessary. It made space for something more expansive.
In that in-between, I poured myself into my studies, especially literature and philosophy. Those subjects gave me a different kind of language for understanding the human experience, and they still influence how I think about storytelling, character, and the emotional undercurrents of life.
Acting came next, and it felt like home. I moved to LA in 2022 to study Method Acting at the Lee Strasberg Institute, and that’s when I truly gave myself permission to pursue this life fully. Acting taught me how to listen, how to inhabit someone else’s world, how to make sense of pain, joy, longing; all of it. Around that same time, I started making music more intentionally too. I’ve always written songs, but for years they lived in my journal and nowhere else. It wasn’t until I finally stepped into a studio this past summer that I realized how ready I was to share that part of myself.
Now, I work professionally as an actress and I’m in the process of writing and developing my debut album, “I Know What You Are”. My artistry exists in this beautiful duality; acting allows me to tell other people’s stories, while music gives me the space to tell my own. They’re different forms, but at the heart of both is the same goal: connection. I want people to feel something, to recognize a piece of themselves in the work, to feel a little less alone.
There’s been a lot of doubt, a lot of figuring things out as I go. I didn’t grow up with an instruction manual for how to do this. No one in my family was in the industry. I’ve had to trust myself, even when that trust was shaky. I’ve had to lean on my people, my mom especially, who’s been the definition of strength and wisdom in my life. I’m proud of where I am, not because it’s perfect, but because it’s mine. Built on values, intention, and a willingness to keep showing up, even when it’s uncomfortable.
Can you talk to us a bit about the challenges and lessons you’ve learned along the way. Looking back would you say it’s been easy or smooth in retrospect?
It definitely hasn’t been a smooth road. I think one of the biggest and most constant challenges I’ve faced is the pressure to compromise, especially as a woman. In both the music and film/TV industries, I’ve had to make really difficult decisions about what projects to take on, and more importantly, what opportunities to walk away from. And some of those have been the kind people dream of—the kind that could change your career overnight. But when something doesn’t align with my values, I’ve had to find the strength to say no, even when every voice around me is saying, “You’d be crazy to pass this up.”
There’s this myth that being an artist means you have to say yes to everything, especially early in your career. And that myth is even louder when you’re a woman, because there’s this underlying fear that if you don’t play the game, someone else will—and they’ll win. But the “game” too often involves accepting being reduced to your looks, being underestimated, or being expected to stay quiet and grateful, even in uncomfortable or exploitative situations.
I’ve been in rooms where people don’t take me seriously until I prove myself three times over. I’ve had moments where the value placed on me was more about how I look than what I have to say. And I know I’m not alone in that. So part of the challenge has been not only navigating those spaces, but doing so without losing myself.
I try to root every decision I make in integrity. That doesn’t mean I live by rigid rules, I understand that sometimes work is just work, and I’ve absolutely taken jobs to stay afloat. But I try to stay conscious of the bigger picture: what message am I contributing to? Who am I aligning myself with? What am I saying, implicitly or explicitly, by being part of something?
Nothing is ever guaranteed. People and projects can present one way and turn out to be something else entirely. But I do my best to act based on the information I have at the time, and to stay connected to my purpose. And I’ll be honest, having the ability to say no is a privilege. Not everyone has that luxury at all times, I know I haven’t always. But when I do, I use it to protect the voice I’ve worked so hard to build.
Because for me, that integrity isn’t a luxury, it’s a necessity. In an industry that constantly tells women to be quiet, agreeable, and easy to market, choosing to stay rooted in your values is radical. And it’s not always the easiest path, but I know it’s the right one for me, and I hope that in doing so, other women after me will find it easier to speak up and take up space without apology.
Thanks for sharing that. So, maybe next you can tell us a bit more about your work?
At the heart of it, I’m a creator. I act, I write music, I speak up, and I build worlds, whether it’s in front of a camera, behind a mic, or on the page. My work lives where vulnerability meets boldness. I’m interested in truth, even when it’s messy. Especially when it’s messy.
In acting, I bring a lot of emotional intensity and instinct to the table. I love diving into complex roles that require empathy, curiosity, and sometimes a little chaos. I don’t shy away from characters who are morally complicated or misunderstood, in fact, I gravitate toward them. There’s something really powerful about making an audience care about someone they weren’t expecting to.
In music, I’m currently working on my debut album “I Know What You Are”, which is unlike anything I’ve done before. It’s fun, fearless, and a little bit unhinged in the best way. I’ve always written songs, but now I’m finally letting people hear them. That’s new for me, and it’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.
What I’m most proud of isn’t the polished end product, it’s the process. The behind-the-scenes, unglamorous, scrappy, late-night part of creating something from nothing. The way I keep showing up even when it’s hard. The way I fight to protect my voice, even when I’m the only one in the room doing it.
If there’s one thing that sets me apart, it’s that I’m not trying to fit into anyone’s mold. I’m not here to be digestible. I’m here to be real. I want to make work that wakes people up a little, that makes them laugh or cry or cringe or feel something. Because that’s what good art does, it stays with you.
And if I can do that, even for one person, I’ve done my job.
Do you any memories from childhood that you can share with us?
One of the things I remember most fondly from my childhood is how sometimes, my brother and I would both be sick (or, well, fake being sick) on the same days just to skip school. And when our parents would leave for work and it was just the two of us and our dog in the house, we would have the best time.
It’s weird being in that older kid stage, like from ten to sixteen. You want so badly to feel grown, to prove you’re above it all. You convince yourself you’re too cool for your siblings, too old for silly things, too detached for family. But deep down, all I really wanted to do was watch Bratz: The Movie with my little brother and bake cookies or brownies from whatever we could find in the kitchen. That was pure joy to me.
At the time, I was quietly struggling with my mental health, with my body, with school, with dance, with just… growing up. There was so much pressure, so much noise in my head. But on those rare, stolen days, none of that mattered. It was just us, in our own little world, safe and silly and free.
My brother and I were really close when we were little. As I got older and things got harder mentally, I started pushing him away, not because I stopped loving him, but because I didn’t know how to handle what I was going through. But those sick days… they were different. They were soft. They reminded me of what we had, and for a few hours, they gave me back the comfort of that bond.
Looking back now, I can feel just how much I missed him, even when I pretended I didn’t. I hold those memories so close to my heart. I love that kid more than words can say. And honestly, if there’s anyone in this world I hope to make proud, it’s him.
Contact Info:
- Website: https://www.lilithgrace.me
- Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/lilithgracealexa?igsh=NTc4MTIwNjQ2YQ%3D%3D&utm_source=qr
- Youtube: https://youtube.com/@lyricswithlilith?si=8lJ4tDzhBS5zpgQW
- Other: TikTok: https://www.tiktok.com/@itslilithgrace?_t=ZN-8use1eGzjbK&_r=1
