Why My Name in the Credits Doesn’t Tell the Whole Story

"Why my name in the credits doesn't tell the whole story" above a video player with a sticker that reads "my name"

(And Why That Matters)

If you’ve ever toggled on audio description while watching a show or movie (maybe out of curiosity, or because you or someone you know is blind) you’ve probably heard a voice pop in now and then to describe what’s happening on screen. That voice might be mine.

And if you stayed to listen through the credits (first of all, thank you), you may have heard my name. But here’s the thing: if it said “Narrated by,” you might have assumed I wrote what I said. And I didn’t.

This confusion is surprisingly common. And while it might seem like a minor detail, it actually points to a much larger issue in the world of audio description (AD), one that touches on inclusion, excellence, and the integrity of storytelling.

The Invisible Team Behind the Voice

Audio description is a team sport. For a single project, there’s often a writer,, a sound engineer, maybe a director and a quality control specialist, and me, the performer. Each role matters, and when done well, we ensure blind and low-vision audiences access the story just as richly as sighted audiences do.

But when only the performer gets named in the audio credits, the team disappears.

And when listeners assume I wrote what I’m performing, it perpetuates that erasure.

That’s one of the reasons I created theADNA.org  a public, searchable database where all the creative professionals who contribute to AD can be recognized. Think of it as the IMDb of audio description, but focused on crediting the unsung pros who make immersive, accessible storytelling possible.

Why It Matters

The conflation of “performer” and “writer” in AD isn’t just an awkward oversight. It undermines the craft and collaboration that go into creating high-quality description.

If someone else wrote the dialogue for a movie character and an actor brought it to life, would you assume the actor wrote those lines? Probably not. But in AD, because we’re only now starting to standardize credits, these distinctions get lost.

And they matter, especially to blind audiences who want to follow their favorite writers and performers, just like any fan would. They matter to aspiring professionals trying to break into the field. They matter to production companies that care about doing accessibility well, not just cheaply.

Most of all, they matter to the integrity of the storytelling itself.

From Box-Checking to Belonging

Too often, AD is treated as a compliance checkbox: “Did we make this accessible?” But true accessibility is about belonging. It’s welcoming blind audiences into the emotional, creative, and cultural space of a film or show.

That’s what I’m advocating for when I ask for crediting in AD. When I show why transparency and standards make a difference. When I talk about connection, not just to the story on screen, but to each other.

TheADNA.org is one way of putting that belief into practice. It’s a hub where we acknowledge the real people doing real work. Where we can build bridges between producers, performers, writers, and audiences. And where we can raise the bar for what AD can be.

The Bigger Picture

I’m still deeply grateful every time someone tells me they appreciated an AD performance. But I also want them to know there was a writer behind those words. There was an engineer who made the mix seamless. There was a team working together to serve the story, and to bring that story to life for you.

I launched theADNA.org because crediting matters. Because connection matters. And because excellence isn’t just about getting the job done. It’s about doing it with care, and in community.

If you’re even mildly curious about audio description, I invite you to explore it. Listen closely. Notice who’s credited. Ask questions. And visit theADNA.org to discover the full story behind the voice.

For more blog posts, check out roysamuelson.com/blog

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