Alexis Hillyard: Kid Connection in the Stump Kitchen
Author: Max Warfield
After some self-assessment a number of years ago, Alexis Hillyard of Edmonton decided to take the plunge and go full-time with her YouTube channel show Stump Kitchen. It’s a playful vegan-cooking program, with many of the guests being kids with limb difference.
Alexis Hillyard has a rare presence, one that resonates with her followers. Her personality bubbles off the screen and powers viewers into unexpected smiles through her silly antics and infectious optimism. Yet, there is hidden depth to her show’s purpose and her goals.
The weekly show’s title, Stump Kitchen, is abrupt and honest, and could not be more blunt about what you will see. And like Hillyard, its design is slyly purposeful, as it encapsulates her philosophy of being up front and honest about who she is and what you’ll get.
Her show has gathered steam, attracting thousands of subscribers and hundreds of thousands of views. Her brand is expanding. “I think people are drawn to my vulnerability and authenticity,” she says. “I’m not pretending to be somebody I’m not. I offer up real, raw experiences with my guests. I ask questions that people want to know the answers to, sharing things in a way that is accessible for people to understand.”
It’s a show for vegans, and a show for people with differences. “I try to do a lot of things to disarm people,” she smiles with a nod to her pun. “I make a show for people who like to swear and another one for people with kids. I try to do things to charm people, hoping my viewers say, ‘I can relate to this. This is not perfect, but this person looks pretty real to me’.”
Plenty of viewers reach out to her as a result, giving her countless online friends. News outlets find her. She produced a mini-series for CBC. Charities have contacted her to find Hillyard to be very generous with her time. A Michigan nonprofit, the Lucky Fin Project, found Hillyard on Instagram and reached out to her about their program. “I began going to their yearly events,” she shares, “and was asked to be an ambassador for them, the first Canadian to hold that honour,” In that capacity, she connects with parents online to give advice and offer peer-to-peer mentorship.
As a kid, Hillyard was inquisitive and into the arts, belonging to a dance group for many years. As a teen she played guitar and was in a band. Her parents were both educators by profession. “It was just natural for me to go into education and develop my skills for working with kids,” Hillyard explains.
The weekly show’s title, Stump Kitchen, is abrupt and honest, and could not be more blunt about what you will see. And like Hillyard, its design is slyly purposeful, as it encapsulates her philosophy of being up front and honest about who she is and what you’ll get.
Her show has gathered steam, attracting thousands of subscribers and hundreds of thousands of views. Her brand is expanding. “I think people are drawn to my vulnerability and authenticity,” she says. “I’m not pretending to be somebody I’m not. I offer up real, raw experiences with my guests. I ask questions that people want to know the answers to, sharing things in a way that is accessible for people to understand.”
It’s a show for vegans, and a show for people with differences. “I try to do a lot of things to disarm people,” she smiles with a nod to her pun. “I make a show for people who like to swear and another one for people with kids. I try to do things to charm people, hoping my viewers say, ‘I can relate to this. This is not perfect, but this person looks pretty real to me’.”
Plenty of viewers reach out to her as a result, giving her countless online friends. News outlets find her. She produced a mini-series for CBC. Charities have contacted her to find Hillyard to be very generous with her time. A Michigan nonprofit, the Lucky Fin Project, found Hillyard on Instagram and reached out to her about their program. “I began going to their yearly events,” she shares, “and was asked to be an ambassador for them, the first Canadian to hold that honour,” In that capacity, she connects with parents online to give advice and offer peer-to-peer mentorship.
As a kid, Hillyard was inquisitive and into the arts, belonging to a dance group for many years. As a teen she played guitar and was in a band. Her parents were both educators by profession. “It was just natural for me to go into education and develop my skills for working with kids,” Hillyard explains.
Born without her left hand, Hillyard’s parents were supportive of her pursuits but never doted by doing everyday tasks for her. “’You’re fine—you got this’ they would say”, she tells. One of her videos is a thank-you tribute to her parents.
Hillyard earned a Master’s degree in education, one that first led to employment in a university teaching future teachers about inclusive classrooms, before she moved on to manage a library in Edmonton. While there, she worked with the City of Learners program, which partners with formal and informal learning organizations to create inclusive opportunities for Edmontonians.
“When I began the cooking thing I realized that I found my passion and had to follow my heart,” she says about the switch to Stump Kitchen. “I always used my stump as a spatula and a potato masher in fun. ‘You should film yourself’, my friends kept saying. So she did and her pals loved her first cooking films, finding them authentic, real, and fun. Now she experiments with new things in the kitchen and loves sharing those hacks with incredible guests — others with differences. “We celebrate uniqueness,” she emphasizes. “It’s always relaxed. I’m casual, wearing sweatpants and no make-up and we usually get very messy.”
Food fights, exhaling powdery clouds of flour with laughter and creating paints from food are just a few surprises she has thrown at her fans. There are stump bumps (like fist bumps) and cricket noises when her guest takes too long to answer.
“It’s a one-woman show,” Hillyard says. “I am completely self-trained. I do all of the filming, the editing, the thumbnails. I even wrote the theme song.” CBC loved her early work, but told her to get a professional-grade camera. “I bought a GH5 and learned how to use it from videos online and by picking up tips about lighting or sound from people I meet. Then I just use my humorous instinct to guide my editing. I am a work in progress myself, always learning and growing.”
The show is joyful and all improv, yet, it has more design behind it than one might imagine. Hillyard puts forethought and energy into creating “inclusive spaces”, something that is a priority in her life. “I always have a chat with a guest before we film to find out if there’s anything they don’t want to talk about. I just want them to be comfortable being themselves. I always honour how people do stuff. Some love to get messy, others not so much.
Some use their stump to cook, some not. I always honour where they’re at and let them shine through in the show. Before that can happen, I must understand their boundaries.”
The show has many interruptions from bleeps. “I like to swear while I’m cooking. It’s part of the enjoyment of it for me. I include my cheeky side and the adults seem to enjoy it.” Somehow, she walks the razor’s edge of using adult language and being very open about who she is, all while keeping a family show. “I make sure that I have a lot of kid-friendly content, too. I live in both worlds somehow and it works.
Hillyard is quick to share that kids inspire her all of the time. “I love working with kids. Their brains are so innovative and think of things I would never think of! They also bring me back to my inner child so I can get goofy in a fun way."
“When I began the cooking thing I realized that I found my passion and had to follow my heart,” she says about the switch to Stump Kitchen. “I always used my stump as a spatula and a potato masher in fun. ‘You should film yourself’, my friends kept saying. So she did and her pals loved her first cooking films, finding them authentic, real, and fun. Now she experiments with new things in the kitchen and loves sharing those hacks with incredible guests — others with differences. “We celebrate uniqueness,” she emphasizes. “It’s always relaxed. I’m casual, wearing sweatpants and no make-up and we usually get very messy.”
Food fights, exhaling powdery clouds of flour with laughter and creating paints from food are just a few surprises she has thrown at her fans. There are stump bumps (like fist bumps) and cricket noises when her guest takes too long to answer.
“It’s a one-woman show,” Hillyard says. “I am completely self-trained. I do all of the filming, the editing, the thumbnails. I even wrote the theme song.” CBC loved her early work, but told her to get a professional-grade camera. “I bought a GH5 and learned how to use it from videos online and by picking up tips about lighting or sound from people I meet. Then I just use my humorous instinct to guide my editing. I am a work in progress myself, always learning and growing.”
The show is joyful and all improv, yet, it has more design behind it than one might imagine. Hillyard puts forethought and energy into creating “inclusive spaces”, something that is a priority in her life. “I always have a chat with a guest before we film to find out if there’s anything they don’t want to talk about. I just want them to be comfortable being themselves. I always honour how people do stuff. Some love to get messy, others not so much.
Some use their stump to cook, some not. I always honour where they’re at and let them shine through in the show. Before that can happen, I must understand their boundaries.”
The show has many interruptions from bleeps. “I like to swear while I’m cooking. It’s part of the enjoyment of it for me. I include my cheeky side and the adults seem to enjoy it.” Somehow, she walks the razor’s edge of using adult language and being very open about who she is, all while keeping a family show. “I make sure that I have a lot of kid-friendly content, too. I live in both worlds somehow and it works.
Hillyard is quick to share that kids inspire her all of the time. “I love working with kids. Their brains are so innovative and think of things I would never think of! They also bring me back to my inner child so I can get goofy in a fun way."
"I find that many adults forget how to have fun, how to be a kid. I get to do that all the time! When I work with kids, I feel like I see a mini-me in them and it’s so cool.”
The kids on her show respond to the trust she places in them. “I let them handle my $300-a-piece Japanese knives - after I teach them how they are to be handled. They love it! Other than safety, I stress that mistakes are okay. My ground rules are to have a fun and safe experience. It’s okay if we mess up or make a mess. I find kids worry too much in the kitchen. I tell them to do what they need to do. It’s a fun place!”
Hillyard hosted a CBC show where questions from kids about limb difference were collected, and her young guests with limb differences were filmed pulling them out of a jar and answering them. “What do you wear at Halloween?” “Why don’t you have an arm?” (“Shark injury! Yes, I played that card!” one little boy answered). “How do you know if you’re right or left-handed?” Fun topics also gave way to more practical advice, noted Hillyard, with guests sharing why they chose to wear, or not to wear a prosthesis, as an example.
“I find that when kids talk about their stump it helps them feel better about themselves. On my show we see each other reflected and we both gain beautiful benefits of seeing ourselves in each other; knowing that we’re not alone and we can enjoy this beautiful part of our body and celebrate it.” It’s a mutual thing. It’s great for the kid to have a role model, but it’s definitely mutual.”
Hillyard understands that parents just want their children to be happy. “When they see their kids enjoying who they are, they love it. One girl used to hide her hands, then after the show, she learned to joke about it and put others and herself at ease. Now she’s more playful and less serious. Kids will commonly have pet names for their stump, like nubby, nubbins, squishy; it’s adorable; funny things in the show just come out.”
The advice she gives children is this: “You are perfect exactly how you are. I love the way that you were made and the way your body is, because that’s the way it’s supposed to be. And you’re not alone. You have every right to be celebrated for all of you.”
With progressive work can come opposition. Hillyard is pleased, but not surprised, that she has not had many haters visit her site. “My visitors come for a reason, and not to be assholes. There has been a nasty comment or two, but I just delete them.” In public, when she encounters comments that seems rude, Hillyard starts a conversation. “I was born this way and it’s wonderful,” she offers. “It’s not weird or scary.” She believes the correction is important. “When you engage in conversation, it counters the comment. When a parent hushes the kid who said it, it reinforces that it is scary and shouldn’t be mentioned. I try to counter this in a positive way.”
Many tell Hillyard that she is an inspiration. “I get that all the time. How this is being related is important,” she stresses. “When someone with a disability inspires, but the teller sees it as coming from a place of deficiency, it is negative. They imagine everything’s so tough for the ‘disabled one’ that there is an assumption of deficiency. When they say, ‘despite your arm, you are doing things well’, that is not loved. The dominant thinking of disability is so flawed. Agency and power are taken from people, which is a weird feeling. I know I’m okay, but it’s the underlying emotion around why inspiration happens. I’m not a ‘poor girl’ and it’s not inspiring that ‘I got out of bed!’ But I love inspiration when it’s authentic.”
Hillyard loves to walk her neighborhood and dream of her future while looking for birds she hasn’t seen before. “I love the adventure of being a mom with a different body and having a kid grow up seeing that every day. That will be a gift for him in terms of when he encounters others with a limb difference or disability, he’ll be more attentive to that.”
To describe herself Hillyard says this: “I’m in love with life. I love creating joy wherever I can and I love using humour to connect with people.”
Somehow, when watching Stump Kitchen in all of its hilarity, one wonders why it grips the viewer, as if her “cooking-thing” passion is really her revealing her heart to us all, and that’s a beautiful thing.
Hillyard hosted a CBC show where questions from kids about limb difference were collected, and her young guests with limb differences were filmed pulling them out of a jar and answering them. “What do you wear at Halloween?” “Why don’t you have an arm?” (“Shark injury! Yes, I played that card!” one little boy answered). “How do you know if you’re right or left-handed?” Fun topics also gave way to more practical advice, noted Hillyard, with guests sharing why they chose to wear, or not to wear a prosthesis, as an example.
“I find that when kids talk about their stump it helps them feel better about themselves. On my show we see each other reflected and we both gain beautiful benefits of seeing ourselves in each other; knowing that we’re not alone and we can enjoy this beautiful part of our body and celebrate it.” It’s a mutual thing. It’s great for the kid to have a role model, but it’s definitely mutual.”
Hillyard understands that parents just want their children to be happy. “When they see their kids enjoying who they are, they love it. One girl used to hide her hands, then after the show, she learned to joke about it and put others and herself at ease. Now she’s more playful and less serious. Kids will commonly have pet names for their stump, like nubby, nubbins, squishy; it’s adorable; funny things in the show just come out.”
The advice she gives children is this: “You are perfect exactly how you are. I love the way that you were made and the way your body is, because that’s the way it’s supposed to be. And you’re not alone. You have every right to be celebrated for all of you.”
With progressive work can come opposition. Hillyard is pleased, but not surprised, that she has not had many haters visit her site. “My visitors come for a reason, and not to be assholes. There has been a nasty comment or two, but I just delete them.” In public, when she encounters comments that seems rude, Hillyard starts a conversation. “I was born this way and it’s wonderful,” she offers. “It’s not weird or scary.” She believes the correction is important. “When you engage in conversation, it counters the comment. When a parent hushes the kid who said it, it reinforces that it is scary and shouldn’t be mentioned. I try to counter this in a positive way.”
Many tell Hillyard that she is an inspiration. “I get that all the time. How this is being related is important,” she stresses. “When someone with a disability inspires, but the teller sees it as coming from a place of deficiency, it is negative. They imagine everything’s so tough for the ‘disabled one’ that there is an assumption of deficiency. When they say, ‘despite your arm, you are doing things well’, that is not loved. The dominant thinking of disability is so flawed. Agency and power are taken from people, which is a weird feeling. I know I’m okay, but it’s the underlying emotion around why inspiration happens. I’m not a ‘poor girl’ and it’s not inspiring that ‘I got out of bed!’ But I love inspiration when it’s authentic.”
Hillyard loves to walk her neighborhood and dream of her future while looking for birds she hasn’t seen before. “I love the adventure of being a mom with a different body and having a kid grow up seeing that every day. That will be a gift for him in terms of when he encounters others with a limb difference or disability, he’ll be more attentive to that.”
To describe herself Hillyard says this: “I’m in love with life. I love creating joy wherever I can and I love using humour to connect with people.”
Somehow, when watching Stump Kitchen in all of its hilarity, one wonders why it grips the viewer, as if her “cooking-thing” passion is really her revealing her heart to us all, and that’s a beautiful thing.
