Baylen Dupree-Dooley premiered Season 3 of Baylen Out Loud on May 19, returning to television to show what it is truly like to live every day with Tourette's syndrome.
Dupree-Dooley, who chose to share her story publicly after deciding she did not want to hide from herself anymore, has used social media and her TLC series to document how involuntary motor and vocal tics shape ordinary routines — from cooking to shopping to travel. Season 1 of Baylen Out Loud debuted in January 2025; the new season continues to follow her life after she and Colin Dooley moved into their own apartment outside Washington, D.C., and tied the knot earlier this month.
The numbers and details in the show drive the point home: Dupree-Dooley was diagnosed at the Mayo Clinic in 2020 when she was 18, and she developed coprolalia — an involuntary vocal tic involving obscene or offensive words and phrases — as her tics progressed. Coprolalia occurs in about 10% of people with Tourette's syndrome. She cannot drive and must rely on others or take rideshares. A kitchen can be dangerous because of sharp utensils, a hot stove and breakable dishes. Going to public places like a grocery store or a restaurant is a social challenge because of her coprolalia.
“I'm not representing everybody with Tourette. I'm representing me and how I live with this condition and how I'm growing with this condition,” Dupree-Dooley tells viewers on camera, and elsewhere she has said, “Tourette's syndrome is looked at in a negative way, and my entire platform is about bringing it to light and being myself, because at the end of the day, we are only one person. It's very, very important to be yourself in a world full of people that want to be everybody else.”
Season 3 also shows Dupree-Dooley and Colin traveling to the United Kingdom to try Neupulse, a wearable device that helps suppress motor and vocal tics. Neupulse is currently available only in the U.K.; producers note it may one day receive FDA approval in the United States. The trip underlines a practical tension at the heart of her story: treatments and devices that could change daily life exist, but they are not always available in the places people need them most.
That gap echoes another friction in the series. Dupree-Dooley was not diagnosed with coprolalia at the time of her 2020 diagnosis; her vocal tics progressed afterwards. She confronts the public reaction to those tics even as she pursues strategies to manage them. The show does not smooth over moments that make daily life risky or uncomfortable — it shows them: a stove left on while Dupree-Dooley manages a tic, a rushed grocery trip that becomes a public scene, a quiet apartment where independence and vulnerability coexist.
Her choice to go public was deliberate. She has said plainly, “What I want people to know is that you need to share your story and be vulnerable and be scared, to grow.” That message — combined with a reality that includes an inability to drive, documented household hazards and the search for treatment abroad — gives the series its moral weight. It is not an argument about policy; it is a portrait of one person insisting on being seen while seeking options.
Baylen Dupree-Dooley's decision to document both the everyday dangers and the small victories answers the central question her visibility raises: will showing the unvarnished reality of Tourette's change public perception? The pragmatic answer the show offers is yes — visibility paired with concrete detail reshapes what people expect. By recording appointments, overseas treatment trials and the domestic work of learning to live together after marriage, Dupree-Dooley is not only telling her story; she is reframing how an audience understands a condition that can be hidden, misunderstood and, for a minority, marked by coprolalia.
