Meet Ricky Bartlett of Atlanta

Today we’d like to introduce you to Ricky Bartlett.

Hi Ricky, so excited to have you with us today. What can you tell us about your story?
I was always drawn to the arts.

As a kid growing up in the projects, I auditioned for everything—band, orchestra, theater—anything that offered an outlet, a release, a doorway into a different world. The arts weren’t just extracurricular activities; they were oxygen, they were colors in a life that often felt gray. Onstage, I could escape the crime and poverty that surrounded me and step into something magical.

I performed in summer stock productions—playing the Emperor in ‘The Emperor’s New Clothes,’ a Lost Boy in ‘Peter Pan,’ and other roles that allowed me, even briefly, to live inside imagination instead of limitation.

As I got older, I knew I wanted to build a life somewhere inside that creative world. I applied for a job at a local television station and found myself captivated—not just by performance, but by broadcasting itself. I worked behind the scenes in technical roles at various stations, learning the mechanics of storytelling. But it wasn’t until I landed my first on-air radio job that everything clicked. That’s when I truly began to flourish.

Years later, after working at multiple stations, I landed in Iowa as the Morning Host at KMRY 93.1FM, a CBS Radio affiliate. One day in 2019, while on air, I realized I wanted to channel my broadcasting experience into voice-over acting. Chicago was only three and a half hours away, so I reached out to every agency I could find.

The response was mostly silence—no one was hiring voice actors. One agency agreed to meet with me.

I drove in hopeful.

The meeting lasted only minutes. The representative looked at my prosthetic leg and told me that because I was disabled, I wasn’t marketable. He said the entertainment industry wasn’t a good fit for someone like me.

Then he dismissed me.

I was devastated.

On the drive home, I called a friend—another disabled actor—and told him what had happened. What I didn’t know was that his mother was Gina Stoj of Gina Stoj Talent Management, an internationally respected agent with offices in Australia, New York, and Los Angeles. She had cast talent in The Lord of the Rings, Law & Order, General Hospital, and more.

When she heard my story, she was furious.

She told me she would represent me. No hesitation. No qualifiers. No questions asked.

Her belief in me changed everything.

Because of Gina, I found the courage to try again in Chicago. Soon after, I auditioned for a security guard role on Chicago P.D., an NBCUniversal/Wolf Entertainment series. A few days later, I got the call—I booked it. And it was a speaking role, which made me eligible for SAG-AFTRA.

On September 19, 2019, I stood on set filming.

Within 10 days, I went from signing with a Chicago agency to appearing on a hit network television series.

That moment wasn’t just a booking. It was proof. Proof that the door someone tried to close on me was never locked.

And now, after years of work, resilience, and relentless belief, I serve on the Atlanta SAG-AFTRA Diversity & EEO Committee—advocating for the very inclusion that someone once told me wasn’t marketable.

Looking back, it still feels surreal.

But it’s more than amazing.

It’s intentional.

We all face challenges, but looking back would you describe it as a relatively smooth road?
My life didn’t begin like a storybook.

I grew up in poverty. I survived childhood sexual abuse. Later, I became a disabled, double-leg amputee. None of those chapters were optional, and none of them were easy.

But what I did have—what saved me—was foundation.

I had a mother who raised me with pride instead of shame, and with love instead of fear. I had family members who stepped in when I needed protection, guidance, or simply reassurance. That foundation mattered. It meant that even when the world felt unstable, I had something solid underneath me. Hardship was real—but so was support.

In 2014, my life shifted again.

After a hiking trip to Wyoming and South Dakota, I contracted Necrotizing Fasciitis—commonly known as flesh-eating disease. At first, I didn’t understand the severity of what was happening to my body. I’ve always had a high pain tolerance and a stubborn streak. I believed I could handle it.

Even when a toe detached from my foot, I minimized it. I wrapped it, flushed it away, rejoined my family for dinner, and said nothing. That’s how deeply I had trained myself to endure without complaint.

Eventually, I lost my left leg. Later, in 2022, complications and bone disease took my right leg.

People often assume that losing both legs must have been the worst moment of my life. It wasn’t.

I had already survived things that tried to take my spirit long before my body was altered. In many ways, amputation was visible. Trauma isn’t. Poverty isn’t. Abuse isn’t. Those battles are fought internally and quietly.

What has been more difficult at times is navigating an industry that still struggles with inclusion. Being overlooked for roles I am fully qualified for. Not even being submitted because someone assumes “disabled” means “limited.” Experiencing the unspoken bias that can exist behind casting decisions.

That kind of discrimination can sting.

But I’ve always believed in something simple: the greatest response to doubt is achievement.

Not bitterness. Not resentment. Achievement.

Today, serving on the Atlanta SAG-AFTRA Diversity & EEO Committee feels like coming full circle. I once had someone tell me the entertainment industry wasn’t a place for someone like me. Now I sit at a table helping shape conversations about equity and access within that very industry.

That isn’t revenge.

That’s evolution.

If I’m being honest, losing my legs forced clarity. It stripped away illusion. It taught me what truly matters, who truly matters, and how resilient the human spirit can be when it decides not to quit.

I don’t romanticize hardship. I don’t glorify pain.

But I do recognize what it built in me: perspective.

The obstacles didn’t define me. They refined me.

And if there is a moral to my story, it isn’t a slogan.

It’s this: strength isn’t something you’re born with. It’s something you build—sometimes under the heaviest weight imaginable.

As you know, we’re big fans of you and your work. For our readers who might not be as familiar what can you tell them about what you do?
I wear many hats, but each one represents work, not ego.

Most recently, I was appointed to the Atlanta SAG-AFTRA Diversity & EEO Committee. Sitting at that table, surrounded by artists committed to equity and inclusion, felt deeply personal. As a disabled, double-leg amputee actor, I encountered discrimination in a place I never expected—the creative industry. In a business that often chases perfection, I discovered that differences can still make people uncomfortable. That realization was painful.

So when I was offered the opportunity to help shape change from within, I didn’t hesitate.

As a SAG-AFTRA actor, one of my most recent roles was as Mark Altman in Hulu’s ‘Murdaugh: Death in the Family,’ filmed in the Atlanta area in collaboration with Assembly Atlanta. However, my role on ‘Chicago PD’ still matters to me, not because it centered on disability, but because it didn’t. Too often, disabled characters are portrayed by non-disabled actors, turning lived experience into imitation. Authentic casting does more than improve optics—it influences how stories are written, directed, and understood. When disabled actors are part of the process, disability becomes part of a person’s reality, not a dramatic device or a source of pity.

Beyond acting, I serve as Head of Creative Development & Voiceover Production at Studio b.Vox, a company I founded after years in broadcasting. The transition felt natural—an evolution of everything I had learned behind the microphone and behind the scenes. Recently, I was nominated for a Voice Arts Award for Outstanding Body of Work by the Society of Voice Arts and Sciences, with the ceremony held at The Beverly Hilton International Ballroom—the same room where the Golden Globes are held. It was an incredible honor and a reminder that persistence compounds.

But if I’m being honest, the titles that mean the most to me are husband and father.

My wife, Jennifer, has stood beside me through every setback, every surgery, every leap of faith. We are a team in the truest sense of the word. Our daughter, Jaclyn, grew up watching that partnership, and she has become a driven, compassionate young woman who understands the value of resilience and unity. That legacy matters more than any credit line.

At the end of the day, I’m not extraordinary—I’m committed.

I work hard. I don’t complain about long hours. I respect the perspectives of others. And what you see is exactly what you get.

No façade. No shortcuts. Just consistency.

What do you like best about our city? What do you like least?
Atlanta breathes.

She inhales ambition and exhales brilliance.

But that brilliance doesn’t come from glass towers or skyline photos. It comes from her people. From the musicians on street corners. From filmmakers grinding between gigs. From entrepreneurs building something out of nothing. From families holding traditions together while the world spins faster every year.

Atlanta doesn’t just exist. She expresses.

There’s a rhythm here you won’t find anywhere else in the country. A blend of bold creativity and old-school Southern values. A city that can host the world with open arms and still feel like a front porch at sunset. Hospitality isn’t a marketing slogan here—it’s cultural DNA.

As a Georgia native, I don’t just love Atlanta. I feel her.

And yes, like any major city, she has her challenges. We can talk about traffic that tests your patience and crime that tests your faith. But over the decades, I’ve watched growth reshape her landscape in ways that once felt unimaginable. High-rises gleam where empty lots used to sit. Corporate headquarters rise almost overnight. Film studios hum with production. Opportunity is visible.

But visibility and vitality are not the same thing.

What concerns me isn’t the skyline—it’s the sidewalk.

I see the soul of Atlanta working hard to keep up with her own expansion. As buildings climb higher, some of her people feel lower. As corporate footprints widen, some neighborhoods feel squeezed. Progress is powerful, but only if it carries everyone forward.

Atlanta’s greatest asset has never been her architecture.

It’s her heartbeat.

The teachers shaping futures.
The artists telling our stories.
The small business owners keep culture alive.
The families who have been here long before the cranes arrived.

If we want Atlanta to continue breathing brilliance, we have to protect and invest in the lungs that make it possible—her people.

Growth is good. Development is necessary. But the soul is sacred.

And Atlanta’s soul lives in her communities.

That’s the Atlanta I believe in.
That’s the Atlanta I call home.

Contact Info:

• Website: http://studiobvox.com
• Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/rickytbartlett/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/rickybartlettofficial
• LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/rickybartlett/
• Twitter: https://x.com/Ricky_Bartlett_
• Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/@rickybartlet
• Soundcloud: https://soundcloud.com/ricky_bartlett
• Other: http://imdb.me/ricky

Image Credits
Savannah Blake/The Gazette