Q&A with Assistant Professor Fernanda Castellón
by Ashley Habchi ’25
Fernanda Castellón joined the Gevirtz School as a new assistant professor in the Department of Counseling, Clinical & School Psychology at the Gevirtz School, and associate director of the Koegel Autism Center. She completed her B.A. in Psychology and Chicana & Chicano Studies from UC Santa Barbara and her Ph.D. in Human Development and Psychology at UC Los Angeles. Fernanda’s passion for research originates from her personal experience as a sibling of an autistic adult, witnessing the difficulty of accessing services in Spanish and serving as the translator in her family.
How did you become interested in autism research?
I’m a firstgeneration immigrant from Mexico. I’m the middle child of six, and my younger brothers are twins on the autism spectrum. Their diagnosis changed the dynamic of our entire family. One of them had high support needs. He was a selective eater, displayed aggressive behaviors, and had limited verbal communication. My mom tried everything to support them. She signed them up for schools, but they were often asked to leave. Eventually, my parents converted part of our backyard into a therapy room. They even flew in specialists from the U.S. and Canada because local resources were so limited. My dad often tells the story of attending a conference in Monterrey where he asked a speaker what advice she’d give to someone considering moving to the U.S. for autism services. Her response was, “Why are you still here?” Six months later, we were in San Diego. That move shaped the rest of my life.
Did the backyard therapy room help you realize this would become your life’s work?
It definitely planted the seed. Once we were in San Diego and started receiving in-home services, I became fascinated by the strategies therapists used with my brother. I’d translate what they suggested to my mom because she only spoke Spanish. At the same time, I took on extra responsibilities at home to free up my mom’s time. I realized I loved seeing the ways small changes could make a big difference for my brother.
How did that experience translate into your education and research?
In middle school, I volunteered in specialized classrooms and noticed how students used vocalizing or singing to self-soothe. In high school, I kept volunteering and focused on promoting inclusion and educating my peers so they’d see people like my brother as friends, and not as someone “different.” When I got to UC Santa Barbara as an undergraduate, I became a McNair Scholar. It changed everything. (Note: The McNair Scholar Program prepares undergraduate students through research and faculty mentorship, with the goal of increasing the number of first-generation, low-income and underrepresented students who pursue Ph.D. degrees.) I joined the Koegel Autism Center as an undergrad researcher, and then a private Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA) practice. I supported graduate students with their research, learning how to collect data and conduct studies. I earned my first publication through a summer program. Honestly, I didn’t even know what graduate school was before McNairternship with a professor who became my Ph.D. advisor. We worked one-on-one with autistic children in summer school programs, focusing on how to make services more equitable. That included tackling racial and income disparities in autism services and empowering parents to advocate for their children in special education. Another area I explored was bilingualism in autism. Both of my brothers are bilingual, but most of their services were only in English. I began asking the question, would services be more effective if offered in Spanish? There’s a paper I read called “Unintended Consequences” (y Garcia, E. F., Breslau, J., Hansen, R., & Miller, E.) and it talks about how offering only English services can sometimes sever the parent-child bond if the child speaks English but the parent only speaks Spanish. That felt deeply unfair to me since that was the reality for my mom and brother.
Do you hope your work will bridge the gap for Spanish-speaking families in both the U.S. and Mexico?
Absolutely. One of our goals is to build a cultural toolbox for practitioners. Something that helps them understand the values families hold, especially when they don’t share the same cultural background. In the field, there’s still this myth that children on the spectrum can’t be bilingual. But I always ask: Is that true, or is it just because you can’t provide services in both languages? If a neurotypical child can be bilingual, why deny that to a child with a disability? That mindset has been one of the most frustrating barriers.
What drives you at the heart of all this?
At the end of the day, I want autistic children and their families to have the best life possible. That means better access to education, better access to services, and honoring their vision of a high quality of life. Too often, researchers focus on the “research impact” instead of the “person impact.” But these are people we’re working with, and that has to come first.
As you begin your time at the Gevirtz School and the autism center, what projects are you most excited about?
I’m thrilled to be establishing my own lab, that’s been a dream for a long time. I’m also working with a colleague to create a collective for families with autistic children. I want it to feel like a second home, a place where no one has to mask who they are. Parents, kids, students, and researchers will all be welcome. I also plan to connect with local autism organizations here in Santa Barbara to build a strong community. My vision is to have my work feel like a home base for families, so they know that they belong and that they’re supported.