Kiran's a project manager by day and an aspiring writer at heart. She currently calls Astoria home, where she lives with, arguably, the best dog in the entire world. She loves Italian reds (sauce and wine), soup dumplings (Flushing if you please) and Mike's Hot Honey on everything (seriously, everything).
It’s been difficult to celebrate the progress that New York City has been making with COVID-19 when 7,000 miles away, India is drowning. Drowning in grief, in death, in insurmountable suffering. My parent’s homeland, where much of our family still resides, is drowning underneath the weight of nearly 2000 reported deaths a day. My mom calls her sister in Amritsar daily, texts her brother in Jammu Kashmir regularly, there is a very real and present fear that creeps over you if you go more than a day without any word. The fear for the people on the ground is tenfold that.
According to Al Jazeera, on Thursday, India reported 379,257 new infections and 3,645 new deaths, the highest number of fatalities in a single day since the start of the pandemic. Medical experts believe that the true number may be five to 10 times greater. Crematoriums are overrun, forcing people to burn their loved ones in converted car parks. The images are devastating. The makeshift funeral pyres, the overrun hospitals. The smoke in Delhi, India’s capital, can be seen and felt for miles. There are several pieces written by reporters a lot smarter than me on why India’s second wave is so devastating. A pre-emptive relaxation of guidelines, mass gatherings, and inaccurate data all played a role. The global response for aid was also slow to come, and vaccine inequity is a very real humanitarian and global issue.
As an Indian American miles away from my family who is suffering under the weight of this, the feeling of helplessness is constant.
As an Indian American miles away from my family who is suffering under the weight of this, the feeling of helplessness is constant. I am conscious of the fact that it is very easy to give in to that feeling, to the feeling of powerlessness. I may not be a government official with the ability to sway decisions but as a member of the ciaooo! community, I have a voice and a platform. This community we’ve built right here is full of smart, compassionate, and determined individuals.Amplifying and raising awareness is the very least that I can do. If you have the means, please consider donating, every little bit truly helps.
The Cut created a helpful guide on where to donate, some of their suggestions:
Making the Difference is helping provide medical supplies for public hospitals and nursing homes in Mumbai as well as grocery and ration kits to daily wage earners. Details on how to donate here.
Rapid Response, India’s premier disaster-response and preparedness service, is seeking donations to provide dry food goods such as rice, dal, salt, and sugar to families across India. Details on how to donatehere.
Give India, a crowdfunding nonprofit platform created to support India throughout the pandemic, is currently running fundraising campaigns for oxygen supply, food shortages, and women’s reproductive health amid the pandemic. Details on how to donate can be found here.
US Dollar to Rupee Cheat Sheet *Some sites accept donations in Indian rupees, use the chart below as a quick cheat sheet to help you donate.
The US Dollar goes a long way when it comes to Indian currency. For context, according to rapidresponse.org, for less than $7, you can give one family a week’s worth of basic food essentials.
$ USD
₹ INR
$1
₹ 74.48
$ 5
₹ 372.41
$ 10
₹ 744.83
$ 50
₹ 3,724.14
$ 100
₹ 7,410.45
Facebook Conversations
Our first date was at Attaboy, a dimly lit speakeasy in the Lower East Side.
I wore a flirty red dress and he wore a blue button-up. We sipped drinks made with ingredients like elderflower and persimmon, mixed based on our moods instead of a menu. We spent hours talking about our favorite Potter book and the best music venues in New York. As cliche as it sounds, we didn’t want the night to end — and what better place to be then NY? We moved from Attaboy to Spitzer’s to La Caverna. The stench of sweaty college boys couldn’t even ruin the night, it was magical.
He kissed me on the corner of Rivington and Ludlow, in front of a nondescript bar with a bright neon sign. I went home excited but cautious all the same — as New Yorkers we’re always suspicious of a good thing.
It surprised me that there was no hesitation on his part. He reached out right away and we set a second date. Then a third. And a fourth. We continued to see each other and I was a goner – swept away by him and the city I saw through his eyes. He took me to a coffee shop called Norma’s in Ridgewood (with the best egg sandwich I’d ever had) and the dive bar, Aunt Ginny’s, the quintessential neighborhood bar.
As New Yorkers we’re always suspicious of a good thing.
We zig-zagged across the city for nearly 3 years. In that time, places themselves took on a new meaning. That nameless bar in the East Village became that bar where he beat me at Big Buck Hunter for the first time. Il Bambino became our go-to panini spot. Milkflower became the place we celebrated with brick oven pizza and red wine after he proposed. The cocktail bar, Diamond Lil became the place where we celebrated our engagement with family and friends. The city became a map of our relationship, each new spot a landmark of some sort.I fell in love with a boy and a city at the same time.
Looking back over those years, I think that Sundays were my favorite. We kept the day just busy enough to enjoy the city while mentally preparing for the work week ahead. We’d often pack a bag (and our dog) and trek to Greenpoint for the day. We walked down Franklin and Manhattan, pausing to scope out vintage stores like Walk the West or stop for treats at Van Leeuwen or Peter Pan. A slice of Screamers on the way home was never out of the question. I was committing every second to memory because I didn’t want to forget how I was feeling in those moments, with the person that I’d decided to spend my life with right beside me.
I didn’t know it at the time, but all those memories would turn on me in the worst way. What could I do in a city like this one, with all the memories we’d made, when I was suddenly alone?
I fell in love with a boy and a city at the same time.
We broke up on a Sunday at Madame Sousou’s in Astoria. I found myself in a daze in the days after. Wandering the same streets that we’d wandered together, triggered by every place we shared together. I placed imaginary caution tape around some of them, marked them as the scene of the crime.
It’s been 6 months and I’m still trying to find my way back to those spaces.
I made it to Roberta’s a few weeks ago(our favorite spot when we were in the mood to hike to Bushwick), I can’t lie and say it was easy. I told myself the whole day that I had nothing to stress about. He didn’t own this space in my memory. You know when you try and repeat something to yourself in the hopes that it’ll sink in? That’s what I was doing. From the memorable Brokeback Mountain pizza art on the wall to the very smell of the place, it was like being right back there with him. I sat at a table in front and yet I could still feel the weight of our past selves, laughing with each other over brunch in the back.
I walk around with the ghost of him next to me. I can feel his shoulder leaning next to mine on the subway, feel his hand nudging mine to the side while I make dinner, hear his laugh echoing in quiet rooms.
I don’t know how to properly describe the headspace I’m in now. The shock of the pain has faded into a dull ache that ebbs and flows. If this was a ten-step process, I’d probably be somewhere around step five. Able to go to work in the morning and laugh with friends over wine, but still not completely comfortable revisiting those places that were ours.
I don’t have all the answers. If you’re going through your own kind of hell right now I wish I could say that after 3 months you’ll feel better, or that by month 5 you’ll be able to drive past that wedding venue without pressing your eyes closed. I can’t tell you that.
What I can say is that I’m ready to start trying. I don’t want to hide anymore. It may take me weeks or months before I’m able to make it to the cocktail bar where we first met or to the dozens of other places that are a part of our story. Loving him wasn’t easy – unloving him is going to be just as hard. But for the first time since we broke up in that coffee shop, I have hope. I walked into that coffee shop last week and sat down for a chai. I didn’t fall apart.
Facebook Conversations
When we look back at 2020, we’ll note that it’s the year that the world truly went to hell in a handbasket. The demise of Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg is the icing on top of the undercooked-dollar-store cake that is this year.
You may have seen her face across t-shirts, pins, and magnets without a real understanding of what her contribution to law did for women, and what her loss really means. Over the past 50+ years in her practice as a lawyer and a Supreme Court Justice, she fought tirelessly to end gender discrimination and sought equal protection under the constitution.
A New Yorker to her very core, Ginsberg was steady, committed, and passionate and she rose to become a cultural and feminist icon. To think, it all began with a young girl from Brooklyn with a fierce love of the law.
It all began with a young girl from Brooklyn with a fierce love of the law.
In a 2018 interview with the Museum of the City of New York, Ginsberg reminisces about her days as a Brooklynite in her youth. When asked if she still feels like a New Yorker despite not living there for years, she replies proudly, “ I am not only a New Yorker but a Brooklynite”.
For a solid portion of the interview (that you can watch here), Ginsberg talks fondly about her early years growing up in the Flatbush area of Brooklyn. She loved music, played piano and cello in her youth, and loved the orchestra, mesmerized by the music and the drama. Like many of us, despite leaving the city for DC, she knew there was no other city like it.
In her eyes, New York was home to the greatest museums, the finest institutions, and her favorite, the Metropolitan Opera. It’s that New York-born determination and steady strength that she carried with her throughout her life and career as she fought for equal protection for women in the eyes of the Constitution. She carried it with her as she stood before the Dean of Harvard Law, one of only nine women in the school, as he questioned why she was taking up a seat that could be filled by a man.
She carried it as she became the first tenured female professor at Columbia after teaching at Rutger’s University – constantly fighting for equal pay along the way – to be treated the same as her male colleagues. As she fought tirelessly during her time with the American Civil Liberties Union (ACLU) to progress women’s rights, establishing the Women’s Rights Project in 1972. Her notable court cases argued for women’s right to serve on a jury, for equal distribution of benefits to military families, and equal spousal support (Source: Weinberger v. Wiesenfeld, Duren v. Missouri, and Frontiero). All in some way fighting against the double standard between men and women.
Her notable court cases argued for the women’s right to serve on a jury, for equal distribution of benefits to military families, and equal spousal support
She was appointed to the Supreme Court in 1993 (only the second woman in it’s 200 + year history) and continued to kick ass and take the name of all those sweaty old men who tried to keep her down.
She wrote the majority opinion in the landmark case the United States vs Virginia Military School, arguing that their gender-exclusive admittance policy violated the Constitution – once again trying to dismantle the patriarchy. Even when cases didn’t swing her way, her dissent was cause for change. In 2009 she strongly opposed the ruling that her privileged male colleagues made in the workplace discrimination case of Ledbetter vs Goodyear. She called the ruling out of tune with the realities of wage discrimination. Her dissent led to the Lilly Ledbetter Fair Pay Act signed into law by President Obama, allowing anyone who feels that their paycheck is less due to discrimination on any basis to file an equal pay lawsuit every time they get said paycheck. You can’t help but admire the shade.
You could go on and on listing her accomplishments and despite the countless people who stood in her way, Ginsberg persevered and was a pioneer in furthering Women’s Rights. Though it’s true our country has a long way to go, any progress we’ve seen in the past 40 + years can be tied back in some ways to her work.
Her loss is going to be felt keenly, and her impact will not be forgotten. Though Trump is quickly trying to replace her with an Evil-Ginsberg who hates women and everything Ginsberg stood for – that will push the Supreme Court towards a conservative majority – he will not be able to erase her legacy. So wear your RBG pins and your jackets and your T-shirts, and remember what she stood for. Vote. Pay attention. Don’t admit defeat. Keep pushing and clawing and fighting for the foothold that you deserve, just like she would have done.
Facebook Conversations
While Americans took to the streets to protest the murders of George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, and countless other black men and women over the Summer, brands and companies across the world scrambled to “stand in solidarity” online and through social media. But, what does it really mean?
Check out some resources from our Coronavirus series:
After reading the same thing over and over again you start to question, what does standing in solidarity mean? Does it mean reposting a black square? Donating to Black-led organizations? Taking the time to educate yourself and reflect on how you can do better? After a while, “stand in solidarity” begins to sound like a version of newspeak, written by a corporate drone.
For some (very few), the reaction has been positive. For others, the response has been met with a lot of “I Know What You Did Last Summer” style side-eye. If the news cycle over the past few weeks has taught us anything, you can’t just say some words online and sweep your company’s questionable practices under the rug.
Employees and consumers are on a quest to root out inequality and racism in every industry, weighing public statements against concrete action.
Let’s quickly look at two very very different online responses. On the one hand, we have Ben and Jerry’s, a Vermont based ice cream company that began with two guys slinging ice cream out of a renovated gas station. On the other hand, we have the NFL, a $2.86 billion dollar organization, the wealthiest professional sports league in terms of revenue.
Just Deserts
In early June, Ben and Jerry’s released a statement to put all other statements to shame.
They said what many of us have been thinking in bright bold type, WE MUST DISMANTLE WHITE SUPREMACY. And from there you have 400+ words of pure poetry. Their statement was thoughtful, honest, and outraged. And more than any other brand I’d seen, they had a 4 step plan and concrete steps towards combating racism in the United States.
Many quickly committed to the brand for life, after all, $5 is nothing when consuming a pint of Half Baked in the name of justice.
The rest of the world could have used Ben and Jerry’s copywriter. They continued to post relevant and educational content in the weeks to come. It wasn’t just one post and done, they continued to show their support over the past few weeks.
Who knew Ben & Jerry’s would become the educational powerhouse we needed during these dark times?
Who knew Ben & Jerry’s would become the educational powerhouse we needed during these dark times? From explaining reparations to our broken criminal justice system to a call to invest in community services – they are committed to education and using their platform to effect change. Founders, Ben Cohen, and Jerry Greenfield have been vocal about social justice and reform for decades, from protesting injustice to charitable donations to the ice cream flavors themselves (Pecan Resist is a particular favorite of mine).
Though Ben & Jerry’s was bought by Unilever in 2000, a conglomerate with a problematic history, the company itself has continued to support its founders’ legacy by speaking out, educating, and supporting social justice causes (while producing ice cream with the perfect crunch to cream ratio).
* Editors Note: [Via NY TIMES: When first purchased, Unilever agreed to commit a percentage of Ben & Jerry’s profits to a foundation, agreed not to reduce jobs or alter the way the ice cream was made. They also committed to contributing $5 million to the foundation, establishing a $5 million fund to help minority- owner businesses and to distribute $5 million to employees that year].
The Hypocritical Oath behind “Stand in Solidarity”
Now, let’s look at the NFL in contrast. It was only 4 years ago that they banned Colin Kaepernick for peacefully protesting the murder of black men and women in his country by taking a knee during the national anthem. Did the NFL think that our country as a whole has experienced some sort of short-term memory loss? They posted the following message on Twitter in early June.
Writer/Director Ava DuVerney was quick to point out the hypocrisy on Twitter.
“This is a lie,” she said. “Your actions show who you are. You’ve done nothing but the exact opposite of what you describe here. Keep Mr. Floyd’s name out of your mouth. Shame on you + the ‘consultants’ of this travesty of an organization.” Ava DuVernay is the champion we all need and is exactly the kind of woman I want on my side in a fight.
A few days later, after some well-deserved backlash, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell released a video that resembled a coerced ransom video (grainy quality, dead eyes, and a basement straight out of a Raymour and Flannigan catalog)
A few days later, after some well-deserved backlash, NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell released a video that resembled a coerced ransom video (grainy quality, dead eyes, and a basement straight out of a Raymour and Flannigan catalog). He condemned racism and the systematic oppression of Black people, robotically admitting that the league was wrong in its earlier response to peaceful protesting. It reeked of posturing.
Am I being harsh? Probably. Is it justified? Absolutely. And plenty of others agree, including NFL star Michael Bennett, a player who has spent the past few years pushing the NFL to do better. In an interview with the Daily Beast, Bennett calls out the hypocrisy, likening it to a slap in the face.
“While admissions of wrongdoing are all well and good, the NFL’s actions need to match their aspirations,” Bennett states. And that’s the crux of it really, how can you put any weight in words when companies cycle through the same bad behaviors. When their actions seem robotic.When they purchase the same stock image instead of looking at their own actions and corporate structure?
But, the NFL isn’t the only organization that tried to put on a good face while being called out for hypocrisy.
It all started when former Editor-in-Chief Adam Rappaport published a piece titled, “Food Has Always Been Political”, where he details his quest to find the intersection between food and politics, and the responsibility that a publication like Bon Appetit has now. He claimed that “…we at BA have been reckoning with our blind spots when it comes to race.” And with those words, he basically lit a firecracker in his own face. Photos surfaced of Rappaport in Brown face, food writers and BA employees called for his resignation, pointing out the systematic racism that runs through the company.
One report after another quickly came to light. Assistant editor Sogla El-Waylly (featured in Bon Appetit’s popular Test Kitchen video series) took to Instagram to say that BA only paid its white editors for video appearances and that her salary was lower than those with less experience than her.
Other food writers noted how empty his words were considering the Black women and women of color BA has exploited, the pay inequity at their organization, the suppression of content written from a BIPOC POV – often deemed “not newsworthy”. They recently released a statement, admitting that they had been, “complicit with a culture we don’t agree with and are committed to change.”
BA is not the only organization that has oppressed its BIPOC staffers while touting diversity when it’s convenient and beneficial to them. Refinery 29 is guilty of the same and they’ve come under fire for their lack of diversity and racial discrimination.
Christene Barberich, co-founder and global editor-in-chief announced that she was stepping down to help “diversify their leadership”. Over the past few weeks, many women of color have come forward regarding their experience working at Refinery 29. Like Bon Appetit, the stories are familiar. Pay disparity, toxic culture, micro (and macro) aggressions, racial discrimination. So much for “stand in solidarity” huh?
From football players to media employees, the commonality behind all of these experiences only speaks to the fact that this is a widespread issue that is industry-wide, ingrained in our cultural DNA.
This is What It Really Means to “Stand in Solidarity”
Historically, companies haven’t been held accountable or outwardly challenged on their practices. Complaints to HR have been collecting dust in an old file cabinet. Leadership has lacked diversity. While some companies have taken measures to incorporate socially conscious practices and diverse hiring (looking at you Ben & Jerry’s), some are taking the initiative to create change into their own hands. Nate Nichols, founder of Palette Group – a Brooklyn based creative and production house – recently launched the Allyship and Action Summit and Initiative.
The initiative serves as a call to action for the advertising industry, pushing them to take action and practice more inclusion. Their manifesto says it best,
“Words have power. In light of current events, the advertising industry has written a lot that encourages more inclusive practices. Cute, but the executions needed work.”
They call for a pledge, a commitment to transparency, to hire BIPOC creators and leaders. With fireside talks with some of the top agencies in NYC, it’s a step towards encouraging diversity and accountability.
“We are speaking with a ton of agency and brand leaders who are ashamed of their numbers and their lack of action”, Nate says, “well, the weight of your shame weighs ounces, and the weight of our trauma weighs tons. We need to normalize the idea of transparency and accountability so shame isn’t a thing. Our mission is to help the industry, leaders, and organizations take steps towards an equitable industry – full stop.”
I don’t expect Ben and Jerry’s level of woke-ness overnight (they’ve been fighting the good fight for a long time), but more so than ever companies have a responsibility. They need to look inward. To question their ethics and morals and what they stand for. They need to diversify their staff and leadership. That means championing Black people and people of color and LGBTQ people through advertising, their publications, and their products. Companies need to expand their definition of what their consumers look like. Representation matters. Stand in solidarity is more than a phrase, it’s a consistent action done on a daily basis on a wide scale.
They need to examine how they’re using their vast resources and networks (NFL, I’m coming for you). Karen Francois, the founder of creative agency COIS, said it best.
“It’s nice to see organizations speaking up and donating to bail funds, but I’d like to see money donated to start community farms in food deserts, sponsor finance and art programs for teens, parks, job training programs, programs that provide free child care in low-income communities, tech and new books for underserved schools, libraries, etc…
“I’d like to see companies actually have a voice on unfair legislation, using their lobby dollars to support the underprivileged.
“I hope companies see the real change possible beyond a PR worthy moment some (not all) of their social media have been thirsty for all pandemic.”
Individuals like Nate Nichols, Sogla El-Waylly, Karen Francois, and countless others are doing the hard work – holding their companies and their industry responsible, questioning everything, and pushing for real action to stand in solidarity. Voices like these are coming together in a powerful chorus to chant along with the protestors who are taking to the streets, “enough is enough”.
Facebook Conversations
On June 22, 2019, 29-year-old Dominican American director Diana Peralta stood in front of a sold-out theater at BAM Rose Cinemas, in breathless awe, for the world premiere of her first feature film, De Lo Mio.
From being featured in numerous film festivals to press features in the New York Times, Filmmaker, and The Atlantic, Diana Peralta is a name you’ll want to commit to memory.
For Diana, De Lo Mio’s premiere felt like both the start and end of an incredible journey. She had been working on De Lo Mio in some form since she was a kid, it was out of her hands and finally a real living breathing thing for people to consume themselves.
I met Diana 5 years ago whenwe were both overworked project managers at a creative agency in Brooklyn. We connected instantly over our true passion, writing, and our struggle to balance that with our day jobs. We would gripe about that passion project that we were just itching to get off the ground, offering each other encouraging words tojust fucking do it. Mine is still a work in progress, hers was De Lo Mio. “The BAM premiere was THE moment for me,” she says as we catch up over beers and giant pretzels.
“I remember standing in front of this sold-out theater with people standing in the back, holding my sister’s hand and watching this experience unfold around me. It was incredible”
She’d spent months applying to film festivals across the US and when she heard that her film was selected for the closing night of BAMCinemaFest – that her world premiere would take place in her own backyard with her family and friends in the audience – she couldn’t imagine a better debut.
The movie itself focuses on three siblings. Two spirited sisters raised in New York, Rita and Carolina (played by real-life best friends Sasha Merci and Darci Demorzi), and their estranged brother Dante (played by the incredible Héctor Aníbal), raised in the Dominican Republic. They reunite after their grandmother’s death to clear out her home before it’s sold and demolished. What follows is a quiet, ferocious and achingly beautiful slice of life that explores what it means to be a family coming together through trauma, the insurmountable pain and the moments of joy in between.
A still from De Lo Mio featuring Sasha Merci (L) and Darci Demorzi (R).
I had the privilege of attending the premiere myself and I left the theater feeling like I had witnessed something immensely personal, like a voyeur, watching these characters as they stumbled and fell and grieved and loved.
As Diana describes it, De Lo Mio was a story she needed to tell. The idea had been brewing since she was a kid, sparked out of the many summers she spent with her siblings at her grandparent’s home in the Dominican Republic. They’d spend their summers cooped up at home, without cable or electricity, and only each other for company.
“My grandpa would spend hours telling us stories about our family”, she remembers, “I’d roll my eyes but honestly looking back those were the memories that I cherished most”.
As the years went on she wrote bits and pieces of the story but it was really a tragedy and the same grief that her characters grappled with that propelled her to the finish line.
In 2013, her grandfather Andres was diagnosed with stage IV cancer and passed away a few weeks later. In 2017, her grandmother discovered that her ovarian cancer had returned. It was this dark time in her life that threw her into a sort of crisis.
“My family was my tie to the island, once they were gone what did I have to go back to?”.
The house that they lived in, that she spent her summers in, became the focal point of her obsession. The sounds, the scents and the memories tied to it. It became a central character that she brought to life in her story.
Young Diana in her grandparent’s bedroom in the Dominican Republic
She finished off the bulk of her script in 2017 while traveling back and forth to the Dominican Republic to visit her family.
“I just wrote so much faster when I was present in that space. It was bittersweet because my grandma had terminal cancer and I wanted to spend as much time with her as I could. At the same time, I knew that this is what my characters were going through. I’m in the mindset. I’m in this space. I’m with my grandmother, why not use that? It helped me pick it up and get there faster with the script even though it was a really painful time for my family,” she remembers.
After months of going back and forth, Diana’s grandmother passed away. She returned to New York and took a break from writing, giving herself the time to grieve.
She soon learned that her grandparent’s home would be sold and knocked down, and she knew then that if she didn’t go all in now, she would regret it. She decided to quit her steady job as a Project Manager and dedicate herself to making her film.
Though the nerves were overwhelming, she worked tirelessly.
She didn’t have much success with grants or industry connections as a first-time filmmaker, in the end, all of her investors came from the Latino community.
“They weren’t connected to the film industry at all,” she explains, “ They were people who were passionate about the film and excited to support a Dominican filmmaker tell a genuine Latinx story”.
She found her female leads, Sasha and Darlene, by quite literally sliding into their DM’s. Though she had been following the two comedians for years, it suddenly clicked one day that they were her Rita and Carolina (her sisters in the film). She knew that the success of the film would be built on the chemistry and relationship between her leads.
“Turns out they’re not blood-related but they grew up together and are best friends. It’s amazing seeing their years of friendship translate into my characters in the film. It was meant to be.”
In the fall of 2018, she led a small crew of brilliant actors and filmmakers to the Dominican Republic to realize her vision. It was a true family affair with her father there every step of the way, and her younger sister on set as executive producer. Over the course of 2 weeks, they filmed constantly, visiting pieces of her past through the film lens.
Behind the scenes in the Dominican Republic
She spent the next year balancing two lives while editing the film. She’d put in 8 hours at her day job as a Project Manager and spent her nights and weekends working with an editor to pull the film together. “I had no social life,” she says with a laugh, “All of my nights and weekends were dedicated to the film. I couldn’t make time to date or like to see my friends but it was so important to me, I knew I had to make those sacrifices.”
She’d put in 8 hours at her day job as a Project Manager and spent her nights and weekends working with an editor to pull the film together.
And those sacrifices paid off. She’s been hitting up festivals from New Orleans to Tennessee this past year, even heading outside the US to show the film in the Dominican Republic as part of the Festival de Cine Global. In the next few months, she’ll continue to travel the festival circuit (with a screening or two in NYC!), all while looking to lock in a wider distribution.
While she works on carrying the momentum of De Lo Mio, she’s already got her eyes towards the future.
“I’ve been watching people my whole life and I feel like I’ve seen so many bizarre, beautiful, fucked up, interesting things that I’ve mentally recorded and have taken notes on”, she says, “I just want to explore that – I’m sitting on the subway and people watching, I feel like I could write 20 stories about that person there. What’s happening in their lives? What are they feeling?”.
I say this as a friend and a fan, I can’t wait to see what she does next.
