A year or so ago, I was at a red light on PCH, jamming out to “Lights” by Journey. A car pulled up next to me. The driver, the passenger and the backseat were occupied by adults roughly my age and dark shade of brown.
Instantly I felt self-conscious. I turned down my music and gave them "the nod." To which they returned, over barely suppressed laughter.
They pull off. My joyride is now an uncomfortable moment of self-reflection... of memories growing up... of all the times I’ve felt alienated or excommunicated from my Black community.
I couldn't stop thinking about why I turned down my music. Why would I, a grown woman, care if they heard me singing Journey? I realized how often I’ve done this. It deserved further investigation. I had lively conversations about it with friends and family members, many of which had similar stories. It was out of this exploration that wrote this film, my first, Out of Tune.
writer / actress / small-town girl living in this lonely world