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A Conversation with Jacob Padrón

Jacob Padrón

 

The Sol Project was launched as an ambitious initiative to raise and empower Latina/o/x voices in the arts in order to nurture and foster true diversity. We sat down with Jacob Padrón, the young, smart, and passionate founder and current Artistic Director of The Sol Project to talk about this initiative, and his hopes for the future of Latina/o/x voices in the American theatrical landscape.

 


 

Margarita Javier: I’m very excited about The Sol Project. What can you tell us about it?
 

Jacob Padrón: I grew up in Gilroy, a small town in California which is just south of San Francisco. There’s not a lot going on in a small little town, but it’s very close to a seminal theater company, El Teatro Campesino, by Luis Valdez. I grew up seeing their shows—I was in the shows when I was little— so, early on, I understood that theater could be a catalyst for social justice and social change, because that’s really what the Teatro stands for. Fast forward to 2013, I went to a convene at Emerson College in Boston, and we brought together a group of about 80 Latino theater makers to talk about the state of the American Theater relative to Latino theater, and recognizing that we weren’t necessarily having the kind of opportunities that we need or deserve. So I thought to myself Could I create an initiative that would support Latino playwrights, Latinx playwrights in New York City? At the time, I was living in Chicago and I was going to be moving to New York to work at The Public Theater as a producer, so when I landed here in New York, I started to put the pieces together; I started to have conversations with different artistic directors, inviting them to basically partner with me and a collective of artists that I had formed to promote Latinx voices. When we launched the initiative, we had six Off-Broadway theaters committed as partners; now we have nine. We’ve done three productions so far. And, really, the initiative in a nutshell is we pair a Latinx playwright with an Off-Broadway company. That company commits to producing that play. And the hope is that after all twelve writers have been produced we will have created a body of work for the new American theater. That was the hope.
 

MJ: So do you only commission new works by Latino playwrights?
 

JP: We ask each artistic director for three commitments: The first is to produce a play by a Latinx writer; it can be a brand new play, or it could be a play that’s been produced before. The second is that the theater commissions a Latinx playwright for a future production, to commission a brand new play. And the third is that you meet with as many artists of color that you maybe don’t know. Because what we’re also trying to do is build that pipeline of creative talent that a theater can draw from in putting those creative teams together. Because when you go to see theater, how often do you open a Playbill and see primarily white artists? So what we’re trying to do is create a more inclusive theater ecology.
 

MJ: Right, so not just the playwright but behind the scenes as well.
 

JP: Exactly; the director, the design team, the stage management team, etc. What The Sol Project is really trying to do is catalyze systemic change within each of the organizations that we’re working with. That’s really the hope. It’s an invitation to create a more inclusive theater organization.
 

Jacob Padrón
 

MJ: It’s starting in New York City, but is there hope for it to be a more nationwide initiative?
 

JP: Exactly, that’s exactly right. The hope is that the work starts here, and then it radiates out, which is very connected to the name of the initiative, Sol Project, that it radiates out like the sun. After the work happens in New York, the hope is to identify regional theaters who commit to the continued life of each play. Ideally each writer will get the New York production, and then a second, third, or fourth production in different parts of the country. The idea being that you have all these theaters around the country who are in conversation with each other and all these different stages that are lifting up Latino voices across the United States.
 

MJ: Right, and then if the play becomes part of the canon, then it’s done regionally.
 

JP: Yes, exactly.
 

MJ: What is the process for selection of the playwrights?
 

JP: We don’t necessarily have an open selection, although writers can submit scripts directly to me or to members of the collective. I work with six other individuals—they are called the artistic collective—and together, we are The Sol Project company. Mainly. the way it works is once we have the partner committed, The Sol Project and the parent company work together. We read scripts together, sometimes a partner will have ideas for writers they maybe want to support, and we have ideas of writers that we think would be a good fit for that company. We sort of enter a curatorial process together and that’s how we land on the writer that we’re going to do.
 

Jacob Padrón
 

MJ: Are you only looking for English language plays, is there an initiative to maybe produce Spanish language plays eventually?
 

JP: That’s a great question; it’s something that we’re thinking about a lot. I think for now, the focus has primarily been on English-based plays. That being said, so many of the plays that we’re looking at are very bilingual. The play that we’re going to do next has a ton of Spanish. I would actually say it’s 50/50.
 

MJ: With that in mind, when we talk about improving representation, I feel like sometimes the focus has been on having more people of color involved in the productions, but we don’t always talk about the makeup of the audience. I think if we want to improve the theatrical landscape—which right now I agree with you is very white—you have to create new theater lovers. And I think one of the reasons it’s perceived that people of color don’t go to the theater as much is because we want to go see theater that relates to us. I feel like a lot of theater companies focus on diversity, they do so thinking of white audiences instead of focusing how to attract audiences of color. Is that something that you have considered?
 

JP: Yes, absolutely, it’s something that we definitely think about in each of our partnerships. I think you’re absolutely right that in order for us to have a more inclusive ecosystem, we have to think about all the different facets, not just the creative team, but also the people who are coming to see the shows and supporting the work. The way that The Sol Project thinks about it, or the way I think about it as the Artistic Director, is that we have to extend the invitation, and the invitation has to continue. What I mean by that is it’s not enough for a theater to program a Latino play once and invite that community into your home and then not invite them in. Once you invite them into your home, you have to make a sustained commitment; you have to continue to program stories that reflect and honor and celebrate that community. So the hope is that with each partnership, that after The Sol Project goes away, the theater will continue to pick up the mantel and make Latino theater part of their core practice. One of the things I say to each Artistic Director is that if the only time you produce a play by a Latinx playwright it’s with The Sol Project, we will have failed in our collaboration. The hope is that we’re generating a spark within your company, and when we go away, you’re going to continue to support these artists, and you’re going to continue to cultivate that community of Latino theatergoers into your home, into your artistic home.
 

MJ: Yes, I agree, and Latinos do go to the theater. I grew up in Puerto Rico, and there was theater culture, and there’s a lot of great theater happening in Latin America.
 

JP: Yes. I think it’s a misconception that it’s not part of our cultural practice, but it definitely is. I think maybe where we fail the Latino community is that the invitation doesn’t continue. That we don’t continue to program to celebrate, lift up and tell the stories of our community.
 

MJ: I think also it sometimes feels alienating because it feels like you’re entering into these very white spaces, and it’s not very welcoming of the different reactions different audiences have. There’s an idea of what theater etiquette should be that’s not entirely open to the realities of other communities.
 

JP: Yes, exactly. When George C. Wolfe was running The Public Theater, he made a really considered effort to make sure the front of house staff, you know, the ushers who were letting audiences in, reflected the city of New York. When we think about how equity and social justice has to touch all parts of an organization. I think what you’re speaking to is exactly right: as a person of color coming into the organization, or coming to see the show, how are they welcomed? Who are the people they see in the box office? Who’s the person handing them their program? We have to be able to unpack all of it if we’re to really address systemic change.
 

MJ: You mentioned working for The Public Theater, I feel like the Public has done a great job with that recently. Were you involved with Public Works?
 

JP: I was involved with the producer, I wasn’t involved in the curation of that program. But, absolutely, it’s about reaching diverse communities and giving them an opportunity to share their artistry and to share their gifts. The animating idea behind that is that culture belongs to everybody and that we are all artists in our own right, I think it’s something very special and very needed in the city of New York.
 

MJ: You have a very impressive resume. How do you find time to do all of this? You teach at Yale, correct?
 

JP: [laughs] I teach at Yale; my class just finished up. I taught a new class, Artistic Producing, which is fantastic. My full time job is with Time Warner, where I work in cultural investments, and then The Sol Project as the Artistic Director. But you know, I think when, like I say, when your corazón is really full, and you get to do something where you feel like you’re making a difference in the world, you don’t feel fatigued. The fact that I’m able to do these things that are hopefully affecting change makes me feel very nourished by that work. The appointment to the Yale faculty happened just this year, and it was definitely hard to maneuver the trip up to New Haven. But just being with those students was completely energizing, and to be a part of their journey in graduate school—which as you know is very hard—it can be a really defining moment in your life. So to be able to be on that journey with my ten students was very rich and very fulfilling. It really fed me; it didn’t actually tire me out.
 

Jacob Padrón
 

MJ: We’ve been talking about Latino playwrights and Latino identity, and we do talk about it in a general sense, even though we all have such distinct cultural identities. I’m from Puerto Rico, and I always identify as Puerto Rican, and Puerto Rican culture is very different from Mexican culture, etc. I find that sometimes it’s hard to explain to non-Latinos the differences and idiosyncrasies in our cultures. To speak of my own experience, if, say I’m seeing a Puerto Rican character, and there’s no attention paid to the accent, or specificity of my culture, it’s jarring to me as an audience member. Because we’re somewhat lumped together as Latinos, all these idiosyncrasies are often lost. I’m wondering what your take is, or what The Sol Project does in terms of authenticity of specific cultures.
 

JP: That’s a great question. I feel like it’s something we still struggle with. I don’t know that we have an answer just yet because I think—to use your language—being lumped together means that sometimes, unfortunately, we don’t have the kinds of opportunities that other communities have. So I think sometimes what happens is there’s a bifurcation between our different communities. Like I’m Mexican, you’re Puerto Rican, and yes, while there are things that are specific to our cultural heritage, that doesn’t mean that we can’t support each other, or come together and celebrate each other.
 

MJ: Absolutely.
 

JP: And I think the more we can lock arms and say yes, we are specific but we are also the same, as we talk about the American theater, I think there might be strength in that. It’s something that we really struggle with. So for example, Oedipus El Rey is a play about Chicanos, Mexican Americans—the writer Luis Alfaro is Mexican—but in the casting of that show we had Puerto Ricans, Colombians, Dominicans, and I felt very honored and proud that those actors were part of the show and were able to inhabit and tell that story of a Latino, or a Mexican community. It’s nuanced, it’s complicated.
 

MJ: Yes, but to use a specific example: I have a friend who’s part of Repertorio Español, and he has told me that when he’s playing a Dominican character, even though he’s not Dominican, he knows he has to work on his Dominican accent, because the mostly Dominican audience is going to know. But he says it’s something he takes upon himself; it’s not necessarily a concern of the production. And I agree that the audiences notice things like that, so I’m just wondering if attention is being paid in your productions to these things behind the scenes. I’m not saying that if the characters are Chicano, they have to be played by Chicanos, but I’m just wondering about the attention given to authentic representation of specific cultures.
 

JP: Absolutely. To be totally frank, there are probably some who would disagree with me. There might be those inside our community and outside our community who would say, No, those roles should be played my Mexicanos, by Chicanos, that’s actually really important! That’s why I say we don’t necessarily have an answer for it, but I think at this point what we can do is be conscientious and try to be thoughtful about these casting decisions and how we’re representing Latino communities onstage.
 

MJ: And how do you feel about non-Latinos playing Latino roles?
 

JP: I do not support it. I just think that because as I said earlier, for Latinos opportunities are far and few between, so it’s important that we claim space and have opportunities to share our gifts and our artistry. So I don’t support that.
 

MJ: I think the thing that gets lost in these arguments is that, yeah, maybe in an ideal world any actor should be able to play any role, but we don’t live in an ideal world.
 

JP: No, we live in a racialized world, where race matters!
 

MJ: Right, and there’s lack of roles available to Latinos, so when there’s a Latino role and you give it to a non-Latino actor, you’re taking away from us.
 

JP: That’s exactly right.
 

MJ: You mentioned the three shows you’ve already done: Alligator by Hilary Bettis with New Georges, Seven Spots on the Sun by Martín Zimmerman with Rattlestick Playwrights Theater, and Oedipus El Rey by Luis Alfaro with The Public Theater. We actually spoke with Hilary Bettis when Alligator was starting, and she talked about The Sol Project. Could you tell us about these shows? How was the response? How has the experience been so far?
 

JP: It was completely gratifying to be able to give these three Latinx playwrights productions in NYC. It feels like the very active expression of what The Sol Project is trying to do, give visibility and lift up these voices. It would be interesting to hear what Martín says or what Luis and Hilary say, but I thought it was very moving to see all those Latinos sharing a stage and telling the story of these writers. And to bring in a new audience into these companies. For me, my hope is that the work continues to get richer and we continue to build that body of work for the American Theater. I also think that the thing that was really wonderful was that we were able to hopefully build lifelong relationships with these companies, the idea being that we are now in a creative relationship, and that relationship will extend beyond the one production that we’re doing together. So with New Georges, Rattlestick and now The Public Theater.
 

MJ: We’re in very precarious times. It feels like every strive we make we’re pushed back 10 steps in this country. We have a President who ran on a very anti-immigrant and anti-Latino platform. The Supreme Court just upheld the travel ban, which is currently for Muslims but could easily be extended to Latinos, and we continue to be very underrepresented in the arts; even in what some are calling a post-Hamilton landscape, it’s still a very white-supremacist landscape in New York City.
 

JP: Yes, very much so.
 

Jacob Padrón
 

MJ: Projects like yours are very encouraging, but what more can be done? For other people in the arts, what can they do, other than start their own initiative?
 

JP: I think the first thing is to educate yourself as much as you can. We’re all gatekeepers; I like to describe it as that. We can all affect change in our own circles, in our own communities. I think sometimes people think that in order to be a gatekeeper you have to be a CEO or an Artistic Director or a Managing Director. But in fact, in whatever space you occupy, you can affect change. And the way I think you do that is by asking really difficult questions. And when you see injustice, to speak out about it. As an example, the way I’m trying to do that is if I see a season that doesn’t actually reflect the kaleidoscope of our city, I try to just reach out to that Artistic Director. I try to activate conversation. In terms of educating myself, I try to read as much as I can about how to be a real ally, how to dismantle systems of oppression, and how to dismantle white supremacy. One of the things that I did recently was I organized an “Undoing Racism” training with my classmates from Yale, where we brought together 40 leaders from around NYC—cultural leaders, artistic directors, agents, actors, designers—and we came together and shared space to understand racism and the causes of racism; the idea being that now you have tools and language and knowledge to combat and dismantle white supremacy. I always encourage people that if you can—I know this sounds so specific but it’s actually very powerful—take an “Undoing Racism” training. That’s also something that you can do. Because I know that the idea that you have to start an initiative to affect change that’s not the case, it can be very overwhelming. What are the levers that you can push and pull to address systemic change?
 

MJ: Yes, and when I spoke to actor Kimberly Chatterjee for Stage & Candor she said something that resonated with me: “Don’t go to see things that you think are hurting the art that you want to see in the world. And go see things that support it.”
 

JP: That’s a huge one, right? Go see the work. That’s a huge thing, because if we’re programming this work that’s populated by people of color and you’re not going and seeing it, that’s tough. Or if we as a community say we need more representation, we need to widen that circle; we don’t make a very good case for ourselves if we’re not supporting the work, supporting those artists who are making this thing possible.
 

MJ: Can you tell us anything about your next project?
 

JP: Not yet, but it’s going to be by a female writer. It’s going to be a world premiere; it’s a play that The Sol Project has been working on since the beginning. She was actually the first writer that I reached out to when I started the initiative and said, “I really believe in your artistry, I believe in your voice. Do you have a play that you would want to work on with us?” And this is the play that we’re going to work on together. We were in graduate school together. She studied as an actor in the theater management program. I ended up producing her first play at Yale Cabaret, which is the student theater at Yale. It feels really wonderful that things are coming full circle and I’ll be working on her world premiere play.
 

MJ: What would be your advice to young up and coming Latinos who want to work in theater in some capacity?
 

JP: I’m going to steal a page from my dear mentor and friend Bill Rauch who taught me so much about how to be a thoughtful producer, and how to be an artistic leader. Bill Rauch is the Artistic Director at the Oregon Shakespeare Festival. He gave me my first job when I graduated from Yale in 2008. He was asked this question on a podcast and he said, “There’s no one path. To have a life in the theater, your path can be uniquely your own.” So for those who decide to go to grad school, that’s one path. If you decide that’s not for you and you want to get to work, that’s another path. But to figure out what it is that you’re passionate about and follow a path that makes sense for you. I think that’s the way I’ve done it and that’s the advice that I’d want to give to a young person looking to have a life in the theater.
 
 


 

 

Jacob G. Padrón is the Founder and Artistic Director of The Sol Project. He was most recently on the artistic staff of the Public Theater as the Senior Line Producer where he worked on new plays, new musicals, Shakespeare in the Park and Public Works. At The Public he shepherded the work of Tarell Alvin McCraney (“Head of Passes”), Universes (“Party People”), Stew & Heidi Rodewald (“The Total Bent”), Tracey Scott Wilson (“Buzzer”), Lemon Andersen (“Toast”), Richard Nelson (“The Gabriels”), Suzan-Lori Parks (“Father Comes Home From the Wars,” Parts 1, 2 and 3) and Shaina Taub & Kwame Kwei-Armah (“Twelfth Night”), among others.

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A Conversation with Hilary Bettis

Hilary Bettis

 

Earlier this year, The Sol Project was announced as a new initiative to raise visibility of Latina/o voices in the theatrical landscape. To kick off this venture, The Sol Project is collaborating with New Georges to present a brand new production of accomplished playwright Hilary Bettis’ Alligator, which opens on December 4 and runs through December 18 at the A.R.T./New York Theatres. I sat down with the smart, funny, charming, and wittily self-deprecating Hilary over hot tea on a rainy day in Williamsburg, where we chatted, among other things, about her play, her creative process, the current political climate, and the complicated nature of her personal cultural identity. I also attempted to get her to spill some spoilers for the upcoming season of FX’s The Americans, for which she is a staff writer.

 


 

Margarita Javier: The first thing I wanted to ask you is about The Sol Project. I’m very excited about it. How did you become involved with them?
 

Hilary Bettis: It’s one of those things that happened organically. Elena Araoz, who’s directing, has been a longtime friend of mine. We’ve done lots of readings and workshops together over the past four or five years. She actually directed a reading of [Alligator] in 2012, and that’s how she and I met. She was part of the founding members of [The Sol Project], and this was one of the plays that they had been considering. New Georges – who I also had a relationship with and had done a lot of workshops with for this play years ago as well – ended up being the first producers. I got a phone call one day from Susan [Bernfield] and Jacob [Padrón] and they were like, Hey! We’re gonna do your play!
 

MJ: That’s amazing. And it’s been a good experience so far?
 

HB: Yeah! It’s been a great experience. There’s been bumps in the road, because The Sol Project is new and they’re trying to figure out how they produce together. This is the biggest play that New Georges has ever done, on top of the first play in the A.R.T./New York space that’s still literally under construction. We just figured out how to have heat in the theater two days ago. It’s the first production that Elena and I have done together, so we’re trying to figure out what that relationship is, how we work together, and how we communicate. It seems so easy in theory, and then you’re in the thick of it and you’re like, Oh, we didn’t talk about this, or maybe we should talk about this, or maybe we should approach it this way. It’s actually really exciting, despite the stress and the lack of sleep that I’ve gotten throughout this process.
 

MJ:Tell me about the play, Alligator. What is it about, where did the idea come from?
 

HB: It’s this crazy, messy, chaotic, bloody, ensemble-driven play that I wrote when I was going through a lot of shit in my own personal life, like taking care of a friend who was dying of cancer and living with my alcoholic ex-boyfriend – a lot of a lot of a lot of a lot of chaos. That play came in like a fever dream; it sort of vomited out one night. It was very instinctual. I’ve never written anything quite like that since in that way, and I think it came out of trying to survive my life at that time and find meaning in this messy chaos with all these people that are literally wrestling life and death demons, including myself. It’s set in the Everglades. It’s in a really small rural town and it’s about all of these teenagers, and they’re trying to figure out how they fit into the world and trying to figure out how to love and be loved, but none of them have the tools or even know what that really means. It’s like a collision of pain and how these seemingly innocent interactions translate into this bigger destruction of this community.
 

MJ: Why the Everglades?
 

HB: I like to write about places that I’ve never been and I get really excited about, and I think for a long time it was because I was so poor and couldn’t actually travel. I wanted to see the world.
 

MJ: So you could write it.
 

HB: Yeah, and when you have an excuse to just dig and research and let your mind go on crazy tangents. I love being able to do that, but I also think there’s something really interesting about it, because you don’t have the familiarity of that place. In some ways, you can have a bigger perspective of it if you really do your homework. In all of my plays, place is always the number one character. All of who we are as people, the choices that we make, the decisions that we have to make, come from our environment and surviving our environment. The Everglades in particular is this messy, swampy, isolated part of the world that you really have to understand how to fight to survive in because everything in there is trying to kill you. It takes a certain type of person in and of itself just to be able to live in that environment, and that becomes a metaphor for these deeper struggles.
 

Hilary Bettis
 

MJ: Why do you write? Out of all the things you could be, why a writer?
 

HB: Oh man, I don’t know. Insanity? [laughs] Writing is really a byproduct of surviving my own life, you know? My family moved a lot when I was growing up and we didn’t have a lot of money – and I was the oldest, the only girl, and I was “the new kid” every two years. I saw a lot of violence and sexual abuse and all kinds of shit when I was growing up. We never lived in a community long enough to really get to know a community. My parents both worked 60-hour work weeks, and so we would end up just having to learn how to survive and navigate people with our instincts. And sometimes that was good and sometimes it wasn’t good. Being the only girl on top of that, writing was a thing that I did to deal with life and deal with feelings, and it was the only place I felt safe because you can say the most poetic thing or the most horrible thing, and you can rip it up and burn it or you can show the world. There’s a sense of empowerment that I never felt in any other aspects of my life.
 

I never actually wanted to be a writer. I wanted to be a veterinarian and then I probably wanted to be an actress. I moved to LA a week out of high school to escape this very small, rural, conservative Minnesota town that we’d moved to when I was 15. I ended up homeless in LA. My first job was cocktailing at a strip club when I was 17 years old. I saw the greatness and the rottenness of that world and also the complicated humanity. You know, people don’t lose their dignity just because they make hard choices for survival, and I think that it’s so easy to place moral judgment on people when we have food and shelter and water, you know? I was going out for terrible, terrible acting roles, and reading scripts where women were non-existent – they weren’t human, they were body parts. My 17/18-year-old brain was like, Well, I’ve lived in six different states at this point and I’ve been through so much shit and survived so much shit. I’ve had my big existential crisis over religion; I’ve seen people die when I’ve lived. Why is it that nobody writes people like me? I can’t be the only one in the world, you know? And so I think asking that question started this career path that has been – I mean, I’ve been really blessed. I have this sort of beautiful, lovely career that I never thought would happen to someone like me.
 

MJ: As a woman playwright, how has your experience been in the theater community or in television? Given the fact that it is – some would say and I would agree – harder for women to make it in these environments. Do you feel that pressure at all, or are you fighting to get more representation for women – is that a struggle?
 

HB: Yes. Especially in the TV world where people are really starting to recognize the importance of diversity. In some ways, I think that I’ve had doors opened that even three or four years ago women trying to break into TV didn’t have. I think it’s harder in theater for women than TV really, truly. Truly. In TV there’s a lot of turnover and executives tend to be younger. Everybody wants who the next up-and-coming voices are, and so they’re really excited to at least read your work. In theater I feel, you know, artistic directors who have been in the same position for 20 or 30 years feel very much a generation behind in their tastes, and I think there’s a lot of subconscious biases in there. They look at young women playwrights and it’s like, Oh well, you are a niche market, you cannot be mainstream. Whereas you can be a straight white male writer and, you know. I watch my classmates out of Juilliard, and hands down the guys always had it very easy in a way that it wasn’t for the girls.
 

MJ: You look at representation right now, and there’s not that many plays being produced or written by women happening in New York, or women directed plays, but there’s so much talent out there. What can be done about that?
 

HB: Really, I think that women need to be in positions of power and leadership. I think that it’s not enough unfortunately and I wish it were, but it’s not enough just to write a play. It’s not enough just to want to be a director. You have to also be an advocate, not just for your work, but for your career. You have to be an advocate for other women, and you have to really think in versatile terms. What I am really consistently learning in my career is that if I really want to protect the things that I write, and protect the female characters that I write from becoming stock characters, gratuitous, or objectified. Then I need to learn how to produce and I need to learn the business side of things.
 

MJ: I’ve read a lot about you, and I know that a recurring theme in your work is identity.You’ve talked about your desire to reclaim your Mexican identity and that’s reflected in your work. That’s a very conflicting thing: not quite fitting in, not quite knowing. I identify because I’m Puerto Rican but don’t fit into a stereotypical look, so I understand the conflict that comes from that, but being part of The Sol Project, and the fact that it is something that recurs in your plays, how do you feel about your identity or wanting to reclaim that side of yourself?
 

HB: God, yeah, I feel like it’s gonna be something that is always gonna be – I don’t think I’ll ever have a definitive answer. I think it’s always going to be evolving as I evolve and the world evolves. Growing up, we mostly lived in really rural parts of the country that were really, really white. My brothers and I were always the most ethnic kids at our school, and I never thought about that as a hindrance to my opportunity in the world. My grandfather had experienced it – I mean, his whole life was fighting against prejudice – and he really felt that he was deeply held back and denied opportunities in his life because he was Mexican.
 

I think in order to protect us from that, he really deeply advocated for us being as American as possible and not learning Spanish.He didn’t speak Spanish around us. When my mother was pregnant with me, his biggest fear was that I would be dark and I would look too Mexican and I would have to deal with the same prejudices he dealt with, and so for me in some ways… I mean, yes, there are a lot of prejudices in the world, especially with Donald Trump in power now and it’s really, really scary. It’s really scary. But part of reclaiming that side of my family is giving dignity and honor to my grandfather’s life and his struggles, and it’s a complicated thing, right? My entire life people have told me that I don’t fit into any community. When I moved to LA and met a lot of Chicanos, they were like, Oh, you’re a white girl, you’re not Mexican at all. And yet being in rural white communities in the Midwest, I was always Latina. And so it’s been a strange thing. Am I allowed to claim? I struggle with it. I actually struggle with whether or not I’m allowed to claim that part of my identity, and yet it’s my blood and my DNA.
 

MJ: Absolutely. And I understand where the dissent comes from because I do feel very protective about portrayals of Puerto Ricans specifically, and I do have that same struggle where I’m like, Well, you’re only ¼ Puerto Rican. I don’t know if you’re qualified to represent us. But at the same time, why create that conflict? It’s really complicated.
 

HB: It’s really complicated and I would never claim to be able to speak for Mexican culture. I’m an American. I was born in America. I speak a little Spanish, but it’s not great. I don’t know what life is like to be Mexican in Mexico. I don’t really know what life is like really to come to this country as an immigrant from Mexico. It’s a complicated thing, but at the same time, it’s also part of my own family identity.
 

MJ: I think it’s admirable because it’s so easy to give into not claiming that, because doing so makes it harder. If you are ethnic, it is harder in this country, and there’s this constant struggle to want to assimilate. I think it’s admirable of you to want to claim that part of yourself because it would be easy to just be like, No, I’m just American. That path would be easier, I think, than saying, No, I want to talk about this. I think it’s important to do so.
 

HB: Well, I really appreciate that. I really do.
 

Hilary Bettis
 

MJ: So you mentioned Donald Trump. And I wanted to bring it up, especially since somewhat recently Vice President-elect Mike Pence went to see Hamilton, and it became this big thing where suddenly the president-elect was launching an attack against the theater community, and I was just wondering if you have any thoughts about that.
 

HB: I mean it’s scary, right? On the surface, it’s like, Oh, you know, he’s crazy and his ego was hurt, and it’s just somebody complaining on Twitter and it’s harmless. But the reality is that those are the beginning steps towards really taking away some of our basic fundamental rights in this country. And it’s not really even about theater – it’s about freedom of speech; it’s about being able to be safe in this world and say things that might not always be popular, be able to talk about and give voice to marginalized communities, and be able call into question the people that are in power and the way that we always have… That’s one of the foundations of our country. I think we have to be very vigilant about it, especially as artists. Our purpose in this world really is to call into question the world around us and make people uncomfortable.
 

MJ: Absolutely, and it’s about challenging ideas and theater has always been challenging and arts have always been challenging.
 

HB: Yeah, and it should be! We’re doing our jobs.
 

MJ: What is the intended audience for your plays when you’re writing?
 

HB: I know that my plays are probably never gonna be at places like MTC. Especially with Alligator, I wanted to write plays that my friends would go see. My friends who weren’t in theater. I wanted to write things that I would want to go see and I also wanna write things that ask really uncomfortable questions. I know that that’s not always popular, and people want to go to the theater to escape and you have to have money, really, to see theater, for most people. Many of them will walk out of my plays, and that’s fine. But the ones that stay, I want plays that are really gonna make people think, and make me think as the writer too. I mean, it’s not just about, Oh, I’m gonna use this as a soap box. It’s just as much about, These are the things that I also struggle with or the hypocrisy that I see in myself, and let’s talk about it. Let’s not pretend that we’re better, or that these things don’t exist.
 

MJ: So why theater specifically? What drew you to theater?
 

HB: You know, I think part of it is just always being a new kid and never having friends growing up, and really yearning for a community. My dad’s a Methodist minister, and so the church was a big part of my childhood and my father’s very poetic and he loves to tell stories. I think part of it was growing up watching my father write beautiful sermons, and the way that he could captivate a room of people. That’s what great theater does; it’s a shared experience. Especially in this day and age where we’re so addicted to technology, we’re having less and less human interaction, and our entertainment, our love lives, and our whole existence is us and a screen. Theater, I really and truly believe, is going to become more and more relevant because people are going to crave human connection in a way that I don’t think we quite understand yet, because of what technology is doing.
 

MJ: What are your theatrical influences, and who are your favorite playwrights? Or is there anything you’ve seen recently that you thought was great?
 

HB: Well, I haven’t seen anything recently because I’ve been so crazy [busy], but I have a very special place in my heart for Marsha Norman, of course. I fell in love with her work when I was 18 years old. To have gotten to study with her at Juilliard for two years and be… I actually talked to her on the phone today, and to have a relationship with her is incredible. I really love [Edward] Albee and Sam Shepard and Sarah Kane, and unapologetic writers, and I really love Westerns too. I love Cormac McCarthy and [Quentin] Tarantino and super masculine genres. I love to try to find a woman’s perspective in those worlds, and so I tend to write things that feel really gritty on the surface but have a lot of empathy and vulnerability underneath.
 

MJ: Have you ever had a great idea that you abandoned because it didn’t work?
 

HB: [laughs] Um, every day. I don’t know if any of them are great. I have ideas all the time. I have a lot of files on my computer that are false starts to things that seemed so cool and then five pages in you’re like, Oh, this is not a thing at all. I have a lot of those. A lot. And then I have these ideas that are like, Oh, that’s my magnum opus that I’m gonna write some day when I have the ability to. I think there are some things that I want to write that I just don’t have the craft yet. I haven’t written enough to be able to execute it.
 

MJ:You’re a staff writer for The Americans. I love that show. How did that gig happen?
 

HB: It’s such a good show! And it’s such a great culture. My bosses are amazing. They’re at the top of their field and their craft and are the nicest, most respectful, down to earth people, that also have families and lives and treat everyone with respect and value everybody’s opinions. To have that be your first TV job and to also really see that you can be successful in this career and you can write things that are of really high quality and you can still be a normal person and treat people well – I feel really blessed to have that be the place where I’m starting from. So yeah, they were looking for a writer for my position and read some of my plays and I went and met with them and then they hired me.
 

MJ: That’s amazing. They’re filming now, right?
 

HB: Yeah, it’s insanity. We finished the first two episodes. We have the producers’ cuts for those; we have the entire season broken; we have scripts through episode nine written and all the rest of the episodes are in process of being written right now. They’re like a machine, it’s insane.
 

MJ: Can you tease anything about the upcoming season?
 

HB: [laughs] It’s going to be awesome!
 

Hilary Bettis
 

MJ: I read that you have a development deal for a show called Finding Natalie?
 

HB: I have two! I have a project at the Weinstein Company with Alyssa Milano, who’s executive producer on it, and we’ve been working on that for about a year. Then Finding Natalie is a gritty hour drama about sex trafficking. It’s about a young Mexican girl whose sister is kidnapped by a sex trafficking cartel, and she gets herself kidnapped to find her sister, and so really it’s a love story at the heart of it about two sisters, and what family will do for each other and the things that we will endure for love, for real love, and having that juxtaposed against this brutal world. Our culture really associates sex with love and being wanted, and to be able to say that’s actually not at all, that what these sisters are willing to do for each other is real intimacy. It’s in the pretty early stages. I’m in the middle of writing the first draft of the pilot right now, so I’m sure that I’ll have hundreds and hundreds of drafts with all the network notes and things like that.
 

MJ: And there are a few movies you’ve done as well.
 

HB: I have. I’ve done a couple of short films, and produced, and I have a feature film project that I’m developing with some producers as well that’s in the super early stages. I don’t quite know what that will be yet.
 

MJ: Do you think you’ll continue to do theater?
 

HB: I have to do theater. I have to. I do, but it’s so damn hard to get a production. I see why so many playwrights that are like, I’m done with theater. I’m gonna write for TV. I get it. I totally, totally get it. You have to continue to write plays because you love writing plays, and you don’t care if they’ll sit in a desk drawer and never see the light of day and you’ll never be paid for it.
 

MJ: What advice would you have liked to have had when you were younger and deciding that you wanted to be writer?
 

HB: Don’t be so hard on yourself. Just write and let things be terrible. I think I had the impulse to write long before I really started doing it, and I think that I was really scared and didn’t think I had anything worth saying. I didn’t think that I was smart enough to be able to do it, and I meet a lot of people that say, “I just started writing” or “I want to be a writer” or “I want to write a play, how do you do it?” I think the biggest obstacle is fear. You have to take the pressure off yourself and give yourself permission to just be really terrible for awhile. Even when you learn how to write, the first draft of everything you write is going to be terrible. Giving yourself permission allows you to really trust your instincts and really conquer your fear. I think that more than anything is what prevents people from following their heart and saying the things they need to say. Also, learning how to protect and advocate for your work. Start in that place and really give yourself permission to be terrible.
 

MJ: Why should people come see Alligator?
 

HB: Yes, come see my show! Because, first of all, Elena has done an incredible job with the direction, and it’s messy and it’s bloody, and there’s an alligator onstage who also happens to be my boyfriend. There’s an actual alligator.
 

MJ: Well, I’ve heard so many wonderful things about it. I can’t wait to see it.
 

HB: Good! It’s so scary right now. The past week I’ve been like, Oh my god, I’m just gonna call everyone tomorrow and say this is terrible, let’s pull the plug, let’s pretend this never happened, let’s never talk about it again! Elena and I just sit in the corner ripping the whole thing apart and being like, Oh my god, what have we done? We’re both perfectionists.
 

MJ: I think if you get to a point where you’re entirely happy with what you’re doing, you’re doing something wrong. I think you always have to challenge yourself to be better.
 

HB: Yeah. Yeah! I hope you’re right!
 
 


 

 

Hilary Bettis writes for the theater, television and film. Her work includes: “Dolly Arkansas,” “Blood & Dust,” “The Ghosts of Lote Bravo,” “The History of American Pornography,” “Alligator,” “Dakota Atoll,” “Mexico” and “American Girls.” A two-time recipient of the Lecomte du Nouy Prize from Lincoln Center, she is a 2015 graduate of the Lila Acheson Wallace Playwright Fellowship at The Juilliard School.
 

Bettis has received many fellowships and residencies at the O’Neill National Playwrights Conference, York Theatre Workshop, SPACE at Ryder Farm, La Jolla Playhouse, New York Foundation for the Arts, Playwrights’ Week at The Lark, Audrey Residency at New Georges, Two River Theater, Great Plains Theatre Conference, The Kennedy Center/NNPN MFA Workshop and more.
 

As a screenwriter, Bettis has written and produced two short films, “B’Hurst” and “The Iron Warehouse,” which have screened at multiple film festivals across the globe. She lives in Brooklyn, New York, where she works as a staff writer for the TV series “The Americans” on FX.