Harris grew up unafraid of being different than the norm. She wore what she wanted to school, whether her socks varied or she sported a funky hat.
One day, Harris recalls, she mimicked pop singer Debbie Gibson with the hat, the glove “and everything.” She then went to a football game where older girls put mustard in her hat. “[They] smashed it on my head and told me not to dress like a freak,” she recalls.
But she was unfazed: “I had no cares. I was one of those kids: ‘If you laugh at me, laugh at me.’ I don’t have that censor, which is important in this business because you’re constantly told: ‘Gosh, you didn’t look very good. You don’t look pretty in that scene, or you didn’t do that right, or you’d look so much better if your hair looked lighter.’ You really have to have tough skin or you’d end up like a heaping, crying mess all the time.”