
From Classroom to Hollywood to Parliament: Caitlin McCarthy’s Relentless Pursuit of Change
I’m always intrigued when I meet someone who is making such an impact in the world, and Caitlin McCarthy definitely fits the mold. When I had my call with her, I’m not going to lie—my eyes widened. as she started sharing her story. I was completely humbled by her journey and everything she has been working on.
Caitlin McCarthy is not just a screenwriter; she’s a storyteller with purpose, weaving humor, heart, and social commentary into every script she touches. Whether she’s tackling complex social issues or adapting powerful works for the screen, Caitlin brings an undeniable clarity and depth to her craft. Her latest projects include Little Audrey, now in post-production with Michael Mailer and an all-star cast, as well as the highly anticipated Wonder Drug, which she co-wrote with Lori Singer. She’s also lending her pen to adaptations like You Are What You Are and the romantic comedy Playing Along, showcasing her range and versatility.
At her core, Caitlin embodies what it means to be a Possible Woman… courageous, creative, and committed to leaving the world better through the stories she tells. So, without further ado… let’s dive in.
Caitlin, you’ve worn many hats—educator, activist, screenwriter. What part of your journey helped you realize your voice had the power to move systems, not just classrooms?
I’ve always believed that one person can change lives because I’ve lived that truth. As a teacher, I’ve seen how simply believing in a student at the right moment can alter the trajectory of their life. That same belief in the power of one voice fueled my DES activism. DES (diethylstilbestrol), known as the "hidden Thalidomide," is a toxic, carcinogenic synthetic estrogen given to millions of pregnant women worldwide for decades as a supposed “wonder drug” to prevent miscarriage and make healthy pregnancies “even healthier.” As a DES Daughter, I turned personal pain into purpose, spending years fighting for recognition of a drug disaster that had been swept under the rug. I worked with U.S. Senators John Kerry and Scott Brown and helped secure an acknowledgment of DES as a “tragedy” from the FDA in 2011 after 40 years of silence and played a key role in obtaining the world’s first government apology for DES exposure from the Scottish Parliament in 2023. That happened because I wouldn’t give up. At the same time, I was carving out a screenwriting career, writing socially conscious stories like A Native Land and Wonder Drug in the pre-dawn hours before teaching, fueled by caffeine and sheer grit. I wrote a feature screenplay as work-for-hire that later went into production during a Hollywood downturn because I kept showing up. Whether in activism or storytelling, I’ve learned success isn’t a lightning strike. It’s the result of years of unseen work, holding the line when nothing seems to move, and believing the impossible might just be possible. You eat the elephant one bite at a time. And if you’re lucky (or just relentless), you might even move systems that once felt immovable.
What was the “moment of no return” in your DES advocacy—when it shifted from personal grief to global mission?
I wasn’t looking for this fight. It found me. One moment I was grieving what DES had done to my life; the next, I was staring down a medical and political cover-up that had harmed millions and barely registered as a footnote in history. The silence was deafening. The more I uncovered, the clearer it became this wasn’t just my story. It was all of ours—every DES Mother, Daughter, and Son, every family impacted across generations. That was the turning point. Grief became purpose the moment I realized silence looked too much like acceptance. I couldn’t change the past—but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let it stay buried.
How did your personal story as a DES Daughter shape the way you show up in the world, not just as an activist, but as a woman and creator?
Being a DES Daughter has taught me that time isn’t guaranteed. There are forces at work, things I can’t control that could cut short the chance to do what matters most. So, every moment counts. I show up with urgency, ready to move mountains, to push past every “no” rather than wait for permission. I make my own luck because waiting around isn’t an option. There’s a fierce beauty in never giving up, in chasing what could be even if I don’t always succeed. Because along the way, I gather stories, strength, and adventures that make the fight worth it.
Was there ever a time you doubted whether one woman could spark change in such a complex system? What pulled you through?
Absolutely, I doubted. I was taking on two giants: governments tangled in layers of bureaucracy, and Hollywood’s famously closed doors. Getting officials to acknowledge decades of harm and say “sorry” wasn’t just daunting, it was met with silence, deflection, and deeply entrenched resistance. And trying to get original, meaningful screenplays produced in an industry obsessed with reboots, reimagining’s, sequels, prequels, and superheroes? Let’s just say “fresh voice” wasn’t exactly a selling point. What pulled me through was my refusal to wait. Not for permission, not for perfect timing, not for someone to greenlight my voice. I showed up. I kept doing the work. Because I don’t want to be a coulda-woulda-shoulda person, I want to leave it all on the field. Change happens when you keep going long after you’re told no, when you bet on yourself even when no one else does.
Let’s just say “fresh voice” wasn’t exactly a selling point. What pulled me through was my refusal to wait. Not for permission, not for perfect timing, not for someone to greenlight my voice.
You’ve built something from the ground up without institutional support. What entrepreneurial lesson did you learn the hard way, and what would you do differently now?
The hardest lesson? Pace matters. I’m still teaching, that’s my "survival job." But early on, I was burning myself out, trying to squeeze everything else writing--researching, organizing, outreach--into late nights and weekend sprints. It wasn’t sustainable. What I’ve learned is that consistency beats intensity. I don’t need to conquer the world in 48 hours. I just need forward motion. If I’m not writing, I’m reading. If I’m not reading, I’m watching something that deepens my understanding of DES or story craft. And if I’m not doing that, I’m investing in genuine relationships, the kind that fuel both activism and art. Even on chaotic days, I do one thing, big or small—that moves the mission ahead. That quiet discipline adds up. It’s not glamorous, but it’s real. And it’s how I’ve kept building momentum without burning out or walking away from the classroom.
Your work spans policy, media, and storytelling. What have you learned about building a movement with no financial backing but 100% purpose?
Building a movement with zero dollars but 100% purpose? That’s pure grit and hustle. When cash isn’t on the table, you turn your drive into your sharpest weapon and trust me, it cuts deep. Money can buy ads, but real fire sparks revolutions. When your cause is authentic, unstoppable energy follows and that’s how you ignite change without spending a dime.
What does success mean to you today and how has that definition evolved over time?
I used to roll my eyes when people said, “It’s about the journey.” I wanted the wins, BIG, undeniable wins. And trust me, winning feels electric. Like when Scotland finally gave that DES apology or standing on set for a movie I wrote, that rush is unforgettable. But over time, I realized success isn’t just about the scoreboard. It’s about how you grow navigating some seriously crazy worlds. I’ve become wiser, tougher, and now I make it a point to lift others up whenever I can. Winning is sweet but becoming stronger and helping others—that’s the real victory.
Many entrepreneurs battle the belief that they need outside validation or big platforms to be impactful. How did you claim your own lane and build momentum?
I claimed my lane by doubling down on what I know best. Teaching taught me how to break big ideas into bite-sized chunks and stay patient, because anyone who’s wrangled 30 teens glued to their phones knows it takes serious resolve to get results. To some, I’m just a middle-aged schoolteacher in Worcester, Massachusetts—far from Washington, DC and Hollywood’s spotlight. But here’s the truth: the only thing standing between me and impact is me. And my persistence? It’s more than enough.
You’ve transformed your pain into purpose-driven advocacy. What advice would you give to women trying to create businesses or movements rooted in personal trauma or injustice?
Own your story, but don’t get stuck there. Your pain is fuel, not a full stop. Use it to light the fire, but then get to work—build, connect, and create. Surround yourself with people who lift you, not drain you. And remember progress isn’t always loud. Sometimes, the quiet grind every day is where real change happens. Keep pushing, even when it feels like no one’s watching. You’re building more than a business or movement—you’re building a legacy.
What mindset helped you go from local educator to testifying in Parliament and changing international policy?
The mindset was simple: “Why not me?” Instead of waiting for someone else to step up, I asked myself why I couldn’t be the one to shake things up. That stubbornness—the refusal to settle for “no” or “not yet” kept me moving from the classroom all the way to Parliament and beyond. If you believe it matters, own it. No one else will do it for you.
What does leadership look like when you're not in a position of formal power—but still making powerful things happen?
Real leadership is moving people and ideas forward without waiting for permission. It’s knowing you don’t need a title to make a difference or a corner office to make a corner of the world better.
How do you stay centered while carrying a mission that spans generations of harm and healing?
I stay centered by remembering that this isn’t just my fight, it’s a relay. I’m carrying the torch for those who came before me and lighting the way for those who will come after. I lean into self-care and community because you can’t pour from an empty cup. And I hold onto the small wins and moments of connection, knowing that healing takes time but every step forward matters.
Your screenplay Wonder Drug is a powerful way to reach hearts and change minds. How do you balance the art of storytelling with the urgency of advocacy?
I keep it real: nobody wants to sit through a sermon at the movies. So, with WONDER DRUG, I focus on telling a gripping story with characters you care about kind of like sneaking veggies into mashed potatoes. The important messages are there, but the story comes first. When you get people emotionally hooked, you open the door to change without them even realizing it.
Do you view screenwriting as another form of activism and what doors have that opened for your cause?
Screenwriting is one of the sharpest tools in my advocacy toolbox. People tune out statistics, but they lean in for a good story. Through screenwriting, I’ve been able to humanize the DES tragedy, making it real and urgent for people who’d never heard of it. Even though WONDER DRUG hasn’t been produced yet, just talking about it has opened doors: interviews and new allies in public health and entertainment. It has sparked curiosity and conversations I never could’ve reached through traditional advocacy alone. A strong story doesn’t just entertain, it mobilizes.
If the next generation of women read your story 50 years from now, what do you hope they take from your example?
I hope they see that being underestimated can be a secret weapon. That humor is power. That heart is strategy. And that the work matters, even when no one’s watching… especially then.
You’ve made history with nothing but your voice, your truth, and your determination. What do you want your legacy to be for DES survivors and for women everywhere?
I want my legacy to be proof that one voice even without money or connections can make noise loud enough to rattle systems. For DES survivors, I want to leave behind a record of refusal: refusal to be ignored, erased, or dismissed. I want them to know they were always worth fighting for, and that their pain sparked purpose. For women everywhere, I want my legacy to be a permission slip: to speak up, to push back, to create boldly, and to take up space especially when the world would prefer they shrink. I want them to know you don’t need perfect circumstances to make history. You just need the guts to try.
You’ve done all this while still showing up in the classroom. How do you help your students see their own potential as changemakers?
I tell my students education is their passport to a brighter future. In a world full of AI, nothing beats their original, authentic voice because they matter. One person can make a difference. My message? Don’t be apathetic and watch life pass you by. Dive in. Take the reins. Be part of the story, not just a bystander.
If you could whisper one message to every woman out there quietly holding a fire inside her—what would you say?
"Get it, girl. You weren’t made to blend in. You were made to move the needle."
What routines or practices help you protect your energy while leading a mission this bold and personal?
I’m up at the ungodly hour of 3 AM during the workweek—yeah, gross—but that’s dog walking, coffee sipping, and two hours of writing before sprinting to shower and signing in for my teaching gig by 7:10 AM. If newscasters can pull those hours, so can I. Still, I make sure to snag at least seven hours of sleep during the week because you can’t change the world running on empty. And to keep my energy up? I make time for fun. Hustle hard but never forget to enjoy the ride.
You’ve shown that ordinary women can do extraordinary things. What’s your message to the woman reading this who’s wondering if her story matters?
Don’t underestimate the story you carry. It’s not just valid, it’s vital.
To Learn More about Caitlin, visit:
https://www.caitlinmccarthy.com/
https://www.linkedin.com/in/caitlinmccarthywriter/
https://www.facebook.com/CaitlinMcCarthyWriter/
https://www.instagram.com/caitlin_mccarthy_writer/
https://www.youtube.com/@CaitlinMcCarthy