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Michelle Jeram: From Police Officer to Actress | Insights on Neurodiversity

In conversation with Michelle Jeram who discusses career shifts and the infinite spectrums of neurodiversity
After a casual arrest gone painfully wrong, Michelle reflects on a series of changes that opened up her life
Michelle Jeram as Monty on BBC’s Granite Harbour

Michelle said, “You know as a police officer, you always have this sort of authoritative nature about you. Every job you go to, you have to be a different person. Delivering a death message, or making an arrest, my voice will have to change, it’s a different persona. 

A lot of it is listening and communication. The listening part is also in acting because you’re reacting to what is being said to you. It’s kind of transferable skills that way”

After facing a tragic incident whilst making an arrest resulting in 5 knee surgeries, Michelle was forced to end her career as a copper.

She continued as a consultant with the police after her recovery but she had an inkling that she had more to life than this.

Michelle decided to relive her childhood dream of becoming an actress. Urging her to train herself through acting classes online during the pandemic. 

After a year and a half, she secured the role of DS Simone ‘Monty’ Montrose on BBC’s Granite Harbour as an investigator in the series.

While this was a breakthrough moment for her acting career, she enlightened us on the conditions faced in the acting industry.

Michelle said, “As an actor, we audition for way more than we ever get. It’s just ridiculous the amount of no’s and or the amount of you don’t hear anythings. You can audition for 20 roles and just get one and I think coming into the industry later in life, I can handle that.

If I was 18 or in my 20s, I’d probably find the constant rejection really difficult. It’s very competitive, not everyone can afford a ticket to London for an audition, put a day aside just for that. I do this full time now but there are so many people who have other jobs and have to take time off for this.”

I could feel the amount of empathy she holds for people. Having been a police officer and now an actress, she wishes to do her job with conviction and not for any kind of recognition.

Michelle Jeram the set of Granite Harbour

I imagine being a police officer is far from easy and the unpredictability requires a lot of courage to deal with every day.

I sensed a grimness as she said the words, “There are some things you should never see.”

It transported me briefly to the times she might’ve had to go back home and process the horror she witnessed. 

The mental health of police officers is frequently overshadowed by the government’s control over them. There are a handful who seem to exploit their powers to fulfil a demonic agenda.

But for the good ones who are human beings just like the rest of us, they have to play a role that provides a thankless service to others and hardly for themselves. 

Michelle said, “When I joined in 1991, there wasn’t any counselling support. You’d sort of have this dark humour, not demeaning but to sort of cope with it yourself. There is counselling and things like that now but I think it’s the numbers in policing that are so few that they’re being single-crewed it shouldn’t be like that.

It’s a sorry state of affairs unfortunately but, I loved my 23 years and I’m very proud of it.”

Her enthusiasm as a police officer reflects greatly on screen as she now takes on detective roles to structure her brand as a newbie in the industry.

She dives into research and curates a background story for each of her characters to bring them to life. 

She draws inspiration from her experience as a copper to understand the depth of her character. Which helps her react to her coworkers cues and mediate the necessary emotion.

Her personal experience also helped with roles where she was required to improvise and be as authentic as she could be. 

She said, “Granite Harbour allowed us to do that for example, and I’m like, I don’t think Monty would actually say it like that so I might change it slightly. Similarly with Queen At Sea, the director wanted me to be as authentic as possible. He didn’t care if the person had acting experience, he preferred someone who knew the procedure.

For instance a rape incident, if you’ve never dealt with that, you don’t know the process and what’s being said, it would be quite difficult.”

We both agreed that it’s not to say that actors don’t have the capability to tap into those raw emotions required for a scene, but a past experience could definitely provide an edge.

As we continue to speak, I was curious to know how being autistic blended with such contrasting careers.

However, Michelle is a doer and for her the process of creation and the contribution of each soul towards the art mesmerised her.

Michelle explained, “You know that’s what fascinates me I think, the whole process of how a show is really put together. The set design, sound, electricians, the runners, everything. I remember on my first week in Granite Harbour in series one, when it was appropriate, I went around to everyone and asked them what they did. To tell me exactly what they did.

I remember watching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Bugsy Malone, you know the original one with Jodie Foster. I was fascinated, it stayed with me. And I think what it is about acting for me is the whole creative process. And you see the finished product, you’re like, cool!”

The creation of art can sometimes be viewed from a superficial lens, I personally forget that it takes a collective of talent to put together a refined piece of work.

The creative choices, the artistic direction, the lines, the emotions everyone face through the day in the process of making it. 

Michelle said it perfectly when she said to me that a good crew can always help make the process easier. She added, “You have better chances if you’re nice to the people you work with and it helps if you’re not a d*ck.”

She adores the cast of Granite Harbour and whoever she has worked with so far. Sharing a bond beyond the set aided in finding a flow for a seamless production and on screen chemistry.

We delved a little deeper into the networking and socialising aspect of being a neurodivergent actor and former police officer. 

She said, “As a police officer, I realised after a while that nothing really bothered me. I’d see horrific things and go okay, then on to the next job. I felt quite unfazed by things. I’m still unfazed, I don’t particularly get emotional. I don’t remember the last time I cried, I’m quite a black and white person. There are no grey areas with me and that obviously served me well as a police officer.”

Neurodiverse individuals are often misunderstood as emotionless or apathetic. Or that they’re rude and unappreciative of the world around them.

It’s quite an unfair assumption that seems to be getting a lot more attention now, to reeducate people on their innate ability to feel.

As someone who struggled with social anxiety, I did feel like I played a role to feel accepted. Social gatherings can be overwhelming, you either love it, learn how to love it or hate it.

I’ve felt disconnected on multiple occasions whilst trying to build meaningful connections spontaneously. It takes time for me to truly connect but it can often be misunderstood as aloofness.

Michelle said, “When it comes to social gatherings, I never really love it. I’m quite a solitary person, I find the social side of it quite difficult but I understand the necessity of it because we need to work together and when we hang out, we learn a lot more about each other and that shows on screen. There’s a shorthand when it comes to who you’re acting with because they’re your friend.”

The cast of Granite Harbour

It makes me wonder if we’ve followed a society that depends on instant gratification and phrases to fit in. And how it’s often a recycle and reuse behaviour that keeps us afloat.

It’s hard to find connections that sustain in the world we live in where the walls within us are higher than a tower.

Attempting to narrow an infinite spectrum of neurodiverse people and urging them to be ‘normal’ only pushes them further away from their truth.

Michelle said, “A friend of mine called Sam Grieson wrote and directed a short film called “The Programme” to smash down barriers to say that it’s actually just a different way of processing. It’s a film about Drum, my character being interviewed by this robot in order to train the future AI on how to respond to human emotions. It’s about identity grief and how one deals with an autistic mind because we’re always told that we don’t feel, which is not true.”

I’ve had the opportunity to watch The Programme before it’s launch in October and it worries me for the future.

Emotions are such an individual and private journey- it’s not shaped to be predictable, it’s meant to be unique.

The AI robot in the film in many ways reflects the mentality of some people who box neurodivergent individuals as “odd”.

But have we as human beings wondered if the system of normalcy provided to us has perhaps limited the expansive view of our species?

Pushing us towards judgement of the other for their inability to match up to the standards of what is expected?

Michelle Jeram at the premiere night of The Programme

We arrived at an intriguing discussion soon after that reaffirmed my spirituality. We talked about how spiritual language can help us cope and focus on our vision towards our dreams.

In the age of spirituality where everyone seems to be talking about growth, we find ourselves using manifestations to align us to a vision. Michelle confidently said, “The weird think about Granite Harbour was, I knew I was going to get it. I read a lot about manifestations and it’s not just about visualising it, I also put it into action.”

Awareness of ones presence and potential can help structure a foundation to start with but there’s a certain amount of hard work and determination that needs to support it.

Michelle agreed and added, “I do hear people give advice to actors, they say ‘Stick with it! Your time will come!’ But I don’t think that’s entirely true. You have to know how to act as well, And there are a lot of people that I’ve done acting classes with or seen. And you know, it’s almost like I’m sure that they can act with the right guidance.

Telling somebody, keep going, keep going. Well, if nothing changes, nothing changes. You know, there’s got to be a change if you’re not getting anywhere.”

We do require a system upgrade even as human beings. Adding new skills, renewing a resume, whatever it may be, it gives us an opportunity to present ourselves as proactive and seeking growth in our reality. 

Michelle continued, “They might be new headshots. Do you still look like your headshots? It might be a new show. It might be creating your own work. It might be getting some acting coaching. And a lot of these things cost money. But you know, one job will pay for that.You can reinvest and then go, right, I’m going to get some more acting coaching and get a job, reinvest.

And I think that just telling somebody to keep going on the same line that they’re on, if they’re getting anywhere, I’m not entirely sure that that’s the best advice to give. It’s no good your nan telling you she thinks you’re fantastic. Because my mum loves everything that I’ve done. And I’m like, mum, it was rubbish. Mums and dads, they just see you as this beautiful child. And they’ll say everything is amazing. But it’s not always helpful. It’s not constructive.”

At the end of the day, everyone deals with life in a way that makes sense to them. We are habituated to function from a place of safety and protection of our energy to identify the roles we play in our lives that feels most fullfilling.

The reality is that change is constant, the methods of achieving it are endless and the inspiration is subjective. Resistance to change breeds contempt and embracing all kinds of change can open pathways that achievers like Michelle have openly invited into their existence.

To reach out to Michelle for enquires, go here.

To connect with her, this is her Instagram.

For more information about The Programme by Sam Grieson, visit https://www.crabandbull.com/theprogramme

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Columns

Tales of a middle-aged single gay man

” BIG BOYS DO NOT CRY!”

A look back to the eras, “Big Boy’s Do Not Cry ” and “You’re a big boy now.”
Researching for an article recently brought a childhood memory flashing back like it was just yesterday. 

It was the night when Coatbridge Town Hall burnt down. It was the 27th of October 1967 and I was six years old. Mum had taken me to what they call now “Kids club”. It was a cold night and before dropping me off she announced, “You’re a big boy now and you can get yourself home. Come straight back and do not talk to strangers.” 

A bit of me had always been an adventurer so it was with trepidation and some excitement when the club finished, I stepped out into the cold dark Scottish night air. Everyone seemed to be going in the other direction with their parents. 

I can remember even now being proud that I was big enough to come home on my own even at night as I was now six. My mum, like many parents of their generation, took me to school on the first day and that was it. I still remember her complaining that I had not waved goodbye when they took me to class. 

As much of my life was to pan out, the journey was not so straight. As I walked the cold night air took on a warmer texture and my eyes started to hurt. It became harder to see as I turned a corner the air became thick with smoke: the town hall opposite the street was on fire. 

It was like something from an amazing movie; part of me was filled with excitement and the other with fear. Running fast up the road to find a safe spot, I really wanted to stay and watch as the fire brigade came, and the town hall burnt like a magnificent bonfire.

It was the same building in which my doctor was housed and I had passed my, “Tufty Club “road safety badge. Looking to my left, I thought my mum would have come running, having seen it from the window of the terrace flat in Laird Street, but she had not. Much as every bone in my six-year-old body wanted to stay and watch the building where “The Bee Gees” had appeared just a month before turn to rubble and cinders, taking one last glance, with full force my little body dashed for the safety of home. 

One thing you learnt in the 60s was “BOY’S DO NOT CRY”. I had gotten into trouble for crying a few months beforehand. “What will people think?” was another very 60’s double standard. 

Climbing the stairs to the flat, I banged the door and could hardly get the news out. “WHAT IS IT?” mum looked cross. “The town hall is on fire!” Mum had a look of disbelief and I followed her as she charged to the bedroom window which had a slight view of the hall from the right. Sure enough there it was, all ablaze.

29 A Laird Street Coatbridge Scotland my birth home.

Boys in the 60’s were supposed to look up to the macho man, the heroes of football, movie stars like John Wayne, and enjoy manly sports although my father teaching me football by heading the ball to me in the bedroom was not a great introduction. Quickly I grew to loathe the beautiful game, as the boys at school seemed to kick the ball at me, rather than to me.

Being a red head made me a prime target for bullies from day one. Even at the Saturday kids’ cinema it dawned on me that something was not right when other boys wanted to be “The Lone Ranger” and I wanted to be under his wing and be Tonto. One of my Christmas gifts was an Indian costume. Wow, though only six I quickly discovered that dressing up was addictive and it took me away from less than happy times.

You learn as a child to make sure everything looks OK and that you are doing well. It was the 60’s -70’s as the new middle class boomed. The fear of being seen as working class whilst not quite fitting in with the upper class gave birth to the likes to copious “Hyacinth Buckets” in every neighbourhood. “You should have had my
childhood “and “Do you know how lucky you are?” were common sayings, whilst drilling into you ‘Do not to mention that to anyone”. 

As if things were not bad enough at school, the bullying extended in the worst way possible. Two older girls in the year above became obsessed with me and would kick, punch and throw things at me. Two girls bullying me was just not something I could share. I
found a new route home that they did not know, and made a dash for it. But they found me a few days later when I was halfway home with no one around. They pulled my glasses off and stamped on them, then chucked them over a hedge and spat at me. Hitting them back I was hysterical and they ran off. For the life of me though I searched but the glasses were gone. My mother had told me about the sacrifices that had been made to get them for me. Needless to say, she was furious I arrived home, lying that I had lost them. She did not stop hitting me till she noticed I had chicken pox. 

After convalescing, on arrival back at school, the two girls had reported me for bullying them. It was quite terrifying. I was in the hall with my class and teacher when the girls appeared with their teacher and my name was called. My gut reaction was to run, the teacher caught me just as my little body arrived at the school door gates. Somehow the whole awful event ended by me being hit with a ruler on the back of the legs by a teacher. My dad always said “If you do not hit back, I will hit you” As a young boy this taught me that was it was better to deceive, as when everything looked ok, things were better. 

Boys grew up quickly in the 60’s. I was what they called a latchkey kid. My mum was very glamorous and went to work as promotion girl for “Dutch cheese” “No6 cigarettes” and “Bells Whisky”. Whilst Carol our neighbour looked after my baby sister Karen, it was deemed better I let myself into the flat. I can still remember being
desperate to learn knitting. My mum kept her knitting in the top drawer of her dresser and I would pick it up. I wanted to ask to learn but it was not the done thing for boys.

The extra income meant my sister and I were always the best dressed and best-mannered kids in the area. Mum working meant they could afford the things for us that they never had as children. I must add here that being self-sufficient at an early age made me a stronger person, although me and one my best friends both laugh
when our mums raise objections to their 14 year old grandchildren going to the shops. Times change.

By age nine, I was moving with my family to what was touted as the big time. Livingstone was a new town that promised a utopia of living in the heart of Scotland between Glasgow and Edinburgh. We were now apparently officially “Middle Class”. It was the 70’s and mum wore hot pants, smoked St Moritz, and sipped exotic drinks.
Sergio Mendes, Jack Jones and the Beatles would blare from the record player and “The Abigail’s Party “era was upon us. Much as mum and I always got on, my dad and I had a strained relationship.

There are two possible reasons for this. The first one is that when I had chicken pox, I infected him too. The other is that when he came to pick me up from what was painted as “The Nemesis”, my grandmother, I had run off. Either way the man, who I used to run to meet on his way home with such excitement, could now switch in a second and if mum was not around, he could get volatile. He sent me one Saturday morning to buy potato scones (Scottish dish) and it was quite distance. On the way back two had fallen out of the wrapper into the shopping bag. He went mad and I was not allowed breakfast.

It had a profound effect on me, having to walk on eggs shells with the man that I idolised as a kid. Looking back, I think I can remember the first time that I found a man attractive. Dad had taken my sister and me to the swimming baths. As we were getting changed to go home Dad was in a mood and as he was struggling with my sister’s thick hair and made her cry. My whole body was desperate to protect her, but Dad frightened me so I was looking
away to avoid his gaze. There was this man laughing and his kids were having fun. He was naked and looked like Elvis he smiled at me and to this day he is in my mind as the first man that I wanted to be with.

It was not till later in life, when dad came to live with me when he had cancer, that it became clear. When he was a musician (he played the trumpet) he got a gig playing in an orchestra.  “I used to have to have two glasses of whisky before I went on”, he told me, still smoking away at 74. His nerves got the better of him and he dropped his dream to have the idyllic modern family. My dad worked every day of his life, and we never went without, but I cannot remember a time he did not have a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other. Even picking him up from hospital after an extensive lung operation, he was nice in the car  to my place, but as soon as I got him settled on the sofa with the kettle on, he shouted out “Worst two weeks of my life! Get me a whisky and a cigarette!”
Challenging him that he did not want to do this or he might end up back in the hospital made him explode. “ARE YOU THREATING ME?!” My dad lived with functioning addiction. Personally, I
have yet to meet an addict that does not have extreme mood swings and explode on occasions. That, I must point out, is my personal experience. 

My time in Livingstone was worthy of a novel and there is only so much room in my column. All I will say is that the voice of Marc Bolan singing “Ride a White Swan”, blaring from the TV, showed me there was a light somewhere that would be the place for me, as it did for many of my generation. A few years ago, when talking at “Shell Oil” in Glasgow, a friend took me to 29a Laird Street in Coatbridge, my first home. It looked so small; even the wall I fell off as a child, when my life flashed before me (I still have the scar today), looked nothing like I remember. 

Boys do cry. And they should cry whenever they want, and speak out when they are scared. Everyone has a strength: being sensitive is one and not a weakness. It´s no longer the 60’s or 70’s and boys don´t have to put on a brave face. They shouldn´t have to pretend everything is fine to make life easier. Always ask kids if they are OK
because there is no shame and saying please help me I am struggling. You have let know one down being a man or human is having empathy and being able to say who you are with out fear. 

Contact Steven Smith on spman@btinternet.com