Your identity is your superpower America Ferrera
When I was 15, I got my first professional
audition.
It was a commercial for cable subscriptions
or bail bonds—I don’t really remember—but
what I do remember is that the casting director
asked me, “Could you do that again?
But just this time, sound more Latina.”
It took me most of the car ride home to realize
that by “sound more Latina,” she was asking
me to speak in broken English, and I couldn’t
figure out why the fact that I was an actual
real-life, authentic Latina didn’t really
seem to matter.
Anyway, I didn’t get the job.
I didn’t get a lot of the jobs people were
willing to see me for: the gangbanger’s girlfriend,
the sassy shoplifter, pregnant chola number
two.
These were the kinds of roles that existed
for someone like me, someone they looked at
and saw as too brown, too fat, too poor, too
unsophisticated.
I kept receiving the same message again and
again and again: that my identity was an obstacle
I had to overcome, and so I thought, “Come
at me, obstacle.
I’m an American.
My name is America.
I trained my whole life for this.
I’ll just follow the playbook.
I’ll work harder.”
I stayed out of the sun so that my skin wouldn’t
get too brown.
I straightened my curls into submission.
I constantly tried to lose weight.
I bought fancier and more expensive clothes,
all so that when people looked at me, they
wouldn’t see a too-fat, too-brown, too-poor
Latina.
They would see what I was capable of, and
maybe they would give me a chance.
Just a few years ago, my agent called to explain
to me why I wasn’t getting a role in a movie.
He said, “They loved you and they really,
really do want to cast diversely, but the
movie isn’t financeable until they cast the
white role first.”
I went through this process for years of accepting
the failure as my own, and then feeling deep
shame that I couldn’t overcome the obstacles.
But this time I heard a new voice, […] a
voice that understood my tears and my pain
were not about losing a job.
They were about what was actually being said
about me—what had been said about me my
whole life by executives and producers and
directors and writers and agents and managers
and teachers and friends and family—that
I was a person of less value.
I couldn’t change what a system believed about
me while I believed what the system believed
about me—and I did.
I, like everyone around me, believed that
it wasn’t possible for me to exist in my dream
as I was,
What this revealed to me was that it is possible
to be the person who genuinely wants to see
change, while also being the person whose
actions keep things the way they are.
Change will come when each of us has the courage
to question our own fundamental values and
beliefs and then see to it that our actions
lead to our best intentions.
I am just one of millions of people who have
been told that in order to fulfill my dreams,
in order to contribute my talents to the world,
I have to resist the truth of who I am.
My identity is not my obstacle.
My identity is my superpower.
I, for one, am ready to stop resisting and
to start existing as my full and authentic
self.
SHORT:
I am just one of millions of people who have
been told that in order to fulfill my dreams,
in order to contribute my talents to the world,
I have to resist the truth of who I am.
I didn’t get a lot of the jobs people were
willing to see me for: the gangbanger’s girlfriend,
the sassy shoplifter, pregnant Chola number
two.
These were the kinds of roles that existed
for someone like me, someone they looked at
and saw as too brown, too fat, too poor, too
unsophisticated.
My identity is not my obstacle.
My identity is my superpower.