Mom’s people are Jews who escaped Odessa during Pogroms. Dad’s people are the result of Spanish colonizers and natives making something new — Tejano or Chicano.

Am I Jewish? Latino? Ethnically ambiguous, yes and certainly not white. But also, too white. “Do you speak Spanish? You’ve lost your heritage. No, I mean like, where are you from?” Am I white? Am I a suburban brown kid who acts white? I’m American…but fuck that. I grew up tribeless.

I am told to be all of these things and none of these things. By 2050, our country will be a majority-minority nation. I will be an active participant in the theatre’s response to the evolving definition of American. I tell stories. I take on directing with a childlike curiosity and the desire to celebrate, interrogate, and investigate the human experience.

The theatre I seek to create honors the past by retelling it, pushes the boundaries of what can happen in a physical space, feels like a fairy-tale-and-the-internet-and-video-games-and-a-rap-battle, mixes forms, makes my ancestors proud, and doesn’t alienate my friends who have never seen a play and would rather be on the block. I would have my audiences be conscious citizens of this terrible and beautiful world.