Thank you so much to everyone who has donated so far! We're nearly on schedule: only $1,000 left to get to 25%. Please help us spread the word so we can get there by Wednesday (the quarter mark).

Making this film is the hardest and most important thing I've ever done (taking the SATs is a close second, which tells you something about our warped education system). Here’s why:

1. White Alligator is my first film. I do not yet have a proven track record or
fancy-pants introductions to big studios.

2. It takes a lot of money to make a movie, but you need a track record to get said money (See #1.).

3. I've had to bleed my friends and family dry in the worst recession of my (admittedly short) lifetime. With more and more celebrities using Kickstarter for their projects, we newbies are fading into the wallpaper.

4. The networking is killing me. (I'm naturally shy.)

But you know what? It’s all worth it. And here’s why:

In the process of making this film, a lot of people have been telling me their stories. When you take on a cause, you become an ear for the unheard voices. Although it is difficult for me to listen to these stories (I’m awfully sensitive), I know how vital it is for them to be told. Because injustice thrives on silence. When you are not heard, you start to lose a sense of your own humanity. And then you're toast.

Here is the latest story, which just happened to one of our cast members.

She was in an acting class last week. Halfway through the class, the instructor separated the students into groups based on nationality. I have no idea what he was trying to get across, except maybe trying to teach them their "types.” (I hope a shudder just went through you when you read that: actors routinely get "typed".) She was the only Spanish speaker, and when she introduced herself, the teacher had the gall to ask her if she was legal. Later, when she asked if there were many opportunities in film for a woman her age, he said that of course there were because everyone else her age is dead.

This is a teacher. A teacher. And this woman paid her hard-earned money to take this class. And these things happen all the time.

She called to thank me for making this film. I thanked her for sharing her story with me.

 
 
(Originally published on Kickstarter on July 7)
I am currently reaching the end of my summer vacation in Avon, Colorado, which is why you haven't heard from me in the past week.

I've absconded with my brother-in-law's computer to share an interesting article I just read in the Vail Daily. There is an Olympic skier named Toby Dawson who has just helped South Korea lobby successfully for the 2018 Winter Olympics. Toby was born in South Korea and at the age of 3, was left on the doorstep of an orphanage. Six months later, he was adopted by a couple in Vail, Colorado. As is the custom up in these mountains, he was practically surgically attached to a pair of skis as soon as he could walk, and the rest is history. Since winning the bronze medal in freestyle skiing in 2006, he has reacquainted himself with his hometown in South Korea, and also with his biological family. He considers himself a Korean-American and is now trying to use his status to help children in South Korea gain the same opportunities he had growing up here in Vail.

I loved this article. How beautiful that Toby is able to connect with the place where he was born and help that community in his own way. A few questions arose in my mind, of course. Toby considers himself part of both countries and communities, as do a lot of Americans, including the recently unfashionable Arnold Schwarzenagger. But does our present society allow Americans to feel this way without being Olympic athletes or movie stars? When someone looks at me as a foreigner when I say I am originally from Puerto Rico, and I feel that shift in someone's gaze (and I do feel it often), I often feel compelled to explain that I grew up in the States. That I too, eat pizza (albeit vegan pizza). That I'm well versed in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and all their individual powers. That I can quote Top Gun with the best of them and am dying to see the new Harry Potter movie.

Why do I feel the need to give proof that I am like everybody else? We all want to fit in; it's human nature. Why are there rules stating that birth place or ethnicity mean more than an experience? And aren't we all citizens of the world anyway? Isn't a pad thai the pizza equivalent for Thailand residents? We're all living in the world together and we all experience the same feelings. Why can't our movies represent that truth?

I also wonder if Toby had been of a different ethnicity or in a different career, if he would feel the freedom to publicly explore his "roots"? Do we discriminate against certain countries when it comes to publicly announcing one's ethnic roots? If you met an Iraqi-American who won a bronze medal in skiing and is native to Vail, Colorado, can you accept that? Would you have different questions of a Korean-American in the same position? What about a Mexican-American? And would you question their ability to ski?

I leave you with this: never, ever, forget to put on sunscreen on the backs of your hands while bicycling down a tall mountain in Vail. It seems trivial, but I now look like a two-toned yeti.

 
 
(Originally published on Kickstarter on June 27)
I had a tough week that culminated with an entertainment industry professional requesting that I do black face.

Let me explain. I happened to be at an audition for a Spanish speaking project, a rare opportunity due to my white skin. As I sat there going over the material, the monitor approaches us, humiliated, with a small jar of bronzer and some cotton pads. He says to us, "they want you to put this on before you go in." I could tell the boy was just a messenger, and he himself was horrified at the request. Nevertheless, I looked at him like he had three heads and I was about to eat one of them. He apologized and walked away silently. The other girls and I tried to laugh it off and go back to our material.

You know how I was able to laugh it off? Because it's happened before. I have had a manager ask if I can wear darker foundation to appear more Hispanic (by the way, there is a scene in White Alligator comprised of this experience).

This happened after I already had a friend stare at me in shock for a few minutes after I told him I was born in San Juan, and I heard another industry professional explain to an actor taking direction that a Hispanic character's motives for cheating on his wife were "cultural". All in a week. And this is the norm. I took the edge off by treating myself to the Klimt exhibit at the Neue Gallerie on Sunday.

I leave you with this fascinating article about a man who's lived in the US his entire life (like me) and is still trying to fit in, just like you and me. Hell, at the end of the road, we're all in the same boat...pursuing the American Dream.

http://www.nytimes.com/2011/06/26/magazine/my-life-as-an-undocumented-immigrant.html?_r=4&ref=magazine&pagewanted=all