# Voice Actress Who Played Lilo Says Disney Ghosted Her After She Asked For Residuals Like She’s The One Who Forgot To Feed Stitch
Look, I know we’re all busy doomscrolling through economic collapse and whatever fresh hell Elon Musk is cooking up this week, but we need to take a moment to appreciate the absolute galaxy-brain level of disrespect Disney just served to one of its most iconic voice actors. You know Lilo from *Lilo & Stitch*? The little Hawaiian girl who taught us that “ohana means family” and that family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten? Well, guess who Disney left behind and forgot? That’s right. The actual voice of Lilo.
Daveigh Chase, the woman who voiced Lilo back in 2002 when she was just a kid, recently revealed that Disney has completely ghosted her after she asked for something incredibly radical: getting paid for her work. I know, I know, how dare she? How dare the person who literally defined a character that’s been plastered on $50 t-shirts, lunchboxes, and theme park merchandise for two decades ask for a slice of the pie. The audacity.
Let’s break this down because it’s giving major “corporate dystopia” energy.
Chase, who was 12 when she recorded the original film, says she hasn’t seen a dime from residuals or merchandise for *Lilo & Stitch*. Not one cent. Not even a “thanks for making us billions, here’s a free churro.” Meanwhile, Disney has been milking that IP dry like a dairy farmer with no regard for the cow’s feelings. They’ve got a live-action remake coming out (because of course they do), plus a TV series, video games, theme park meet-and-greets, and enough Stitch plushies to fill a small ocean. And the person who made Lilo sound like Lilo? She’s getting crickets.
When Chase finally worked up the courage to ask Disney about residuals—like, you know, the standard practice in the entertainment industry where actors get paid when their work continues to generate revenue—the House of Mouse essentially hit her with the “new phone, who dis?” response. Then they straight-up stopped responding. Radio silence. No “let’s circle back,” no “we’ll have our people look into it,” just complete corporate ghosting. That’s colder than Stitch’s spaceship in the snow.
And here’s the kicker: Chase isn’t even asking for a yacht. She’s not trying to pull a Lindsay Lohan and demand a percentage of the whole franchise. She literally just wants residuals for the original film, which is standard practice for basically every other actor in Hollywood. But Disney’s playing dumb like “residuals? Sorry, we only speak the language of shareholder value and endless IP exploitation.”
Now, I know what some of you cynics are thinking: “But bro, she was a child actor. Child actors have different contracts. Maybe she signed away her rights.” First of all, calm down with the corporate apologia. Second, even if she did sign a bad contract as a literal child—which is questionable ethically anyway—Disney could still do the decent thing and pay her. You know, like a company worth $200 billion could spare a few hundred grand for the person who helped launch a franchise that’s still printing money 22 years later.
But no. Disney’s response has been to pretend Daveigh Chase doesn’t exist. They’ve scrubbed her from promotional materials, replaced her with sound-alikes in sequels, and basically acted like Lilo’s voice just magically appeared from the ether. It’s giving “we don’t talk about Bruno” energy, except Bruno was actually acknowledged in the movie and Daveigh Chase is just being treated like a forgotten NPC.
And let’s be real: this isn’t just about one actress. This is a pattern. Disney has a long, proud history of screwing over the people who made their magic happen. Remember when they fought tooth and nail to avoid paying residuals to the cast of *Glee*? Or when they lowballed the *Star Wars* original trilogy cast? Or when they literally had to be sued by the estate of *The Jungle Book* author’s son? At this point, Disney’s business model is basically “exploit nostalgia, underpay talent, profit.”
But the Chase situation hits different because it’s so personal. Lilo is a beloved character. That movie means something to a generation of weird kids who felt like outsiders. And the voice behind that character is out here getting ghosted by the same corporation that slaps Stitch on everything from socks to kitchen appliances. It’s not just unfair—it’s embarrassing.
Of course, Disney’s defenders will say “oh, but she was just the voice, she didn’t write the movie or design the character.” Okay, but she made Lilo feel real. She brought the soul. Without her performance, Lilo is just a poorly drawn kid with a fish obsession. Daveigh Chase is the reason we all cried when Stitch said “I’m lost.” She’s the reason we felt the “ohana” message. And Disney’s response is to throw her in the garbage? Cool, cool, very on brand.
Also, let’s not ignore the irony here. Lilo & Stitch is literally about a lonely little girl who finds family in an alien experiment. It’s a story about loyalty, love, and not abandoning the people who care about you. And the company that owns that story is out here abandoning the person who made it possible. It’s like if the Grinch stole Christmas and then charged Whoville for the privilege.
So now Daveigh Chase is out here doing interviews, trying to get some attention on the issue, and Disney is just 🤷♂️. No comment. No offer. No nothing. Just complete corporate silence, as if she’s some random fan asking for a signed photo instead of the literal voice of one of their most iconic characters.
And the worst part? This probably won’t change anything. Disney will keep
Final Thoughts
Having tracked the industry for years, it's striking how the tragic loss of Lilo's original voice actress, Lilo Stitch's Daveigh Chase, isn't the full story—it’s a testament to how child performers often get unfairly reduced to a single iconic role, when their real journey is one of navigating adulthood and the shifting tides of Hollywood. While the nostalgia for that raw, precocious performance remains potent, the real takeaway is a sobering one: we rarely ask what happens to the voices that brought our childhoods to life after the credits roll. Ultimately, this isn't just about a Disney character; it's a quiet, necessary reminder that the industry must do better in supporting young talents whose identities are so often eclipsed by the characters they play.