On the red tiles in my family's den I would dance and sing to the made-for-TV movie "Gypsy," starring Bette Midler.
Na crvenim pločicama u našoj porodičnoj sobici bih plesala i pevala uz televizijski film „Ciganka“ sa Bet Midler.
(Singing) "I had a dream. A wonderful dream, papa."
(Peva) „Imala sam san. Divan san, tata.“
I would sing it with the urgency and the burning desire of a nine-year-old who did, in fact, have a dream. My dream was to be an actress. And it's true that I never saw anyone who looked like me in television or in films, and sure, my family and friends and teachers all constantly warned me that people like me didn't make it in Hollywood. But I was an American. I had been taught to believe that anyone could achieve anything, regardless of the color of their skin, the fact that my parents immigrated from Honduras, the fact that I had no money. I didn't need my dream to be easy, I just needed it to be possible.
Pevala bih to sa upornošću i gorućom željom devetogodišnjakinje koja jeste, u stvari, imala san. Moj san bio je da postanem glumica. Istina je da nikada nisam videla nekog ko izgleda kao ja na televiziji ili na filmu, i naravno, moja porodica i prijatelji i nastavnici su me stalno upozoravali da ljudi kao ja ne uspevaju u Holivudu. Ali ja sam Amerikanka. Učili su me da verujem da svi mogu da postignu ono što žele, bez obzira na boju kože, činjenicu da su moji roditelji imigrirali iz Hondurasa, činjenicu da nisam imala novca. Nije trebalo da moj san bude lak, već da bude ostvariv.
And 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.
A kada sam imala 15 godina, dobila sam prvu profesionalnu audiciju. Bila je to reklama za kablovsku pretplatu ili kauciju, stvarno se ne sećam.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
What I do remember is that the casting director asked me, "Could you do that again, but just this time, sound more Latina."
Ono čega se sećam jeste da me je direktorka kastinga pitala: „Možeš li to ponovo da uradiš, samo ovog puta da zvučiš više kao Latina.“
"Um, OK. So you want me to do it in Spanish?" I asked.
„Hm, ok. Znači hoćete da ponovim na španskom?“, pitala sam.
"No, no, do it in English, just sound Latina."
„Ne, ne, ponovi na engleskom, samo zvuči kao Latinoamerikanka.“
"Well, I am a Latina, so isn't this what a Latina sounds like?"
„Pa, ja jesam Latinoamerikanka, zar one ne zvuče ovako?“
There was a long and awkward silence, and then finally, "OK, sweetie, never mind, thank you for coming in, bye!"
Nastupila je dugačka i neprijatna tišina, a onda konačno: „Ok, dušo, nema veze, hvala što si došla, zdravo!“
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.
Skoro celu vožnju kući mi je trebalo da shvatim da je pod „zvuči kao Latina“ mislila da treba da govorim na lošem engleskom. Nije mi bilo jasno zašto to što sam prava, autentična Latinoamerikanka u realnom životu nije bilo toliko važno.
Anyway, I didn't get the job. I didn't get a lot of the jobs people were willing to see me for: the gang-banger's girlfriend, the sassy shoplifter, pregnant chola number two.
U svakom slučaju, nisam dobila posao. Nisam dobila mnogo poslova za koje sam išla na audicije: devojka člana bande, zavodljiva kradljivica, trudna čola broj dva.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
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. These roles were stereotypes and couldn't have been further from my own reality or from the roles I dreamt of playing. I wanted to play people who were complex and multidimensional, people who existed in the center of their own lives. Not cardboard cutouts that stood in the background of someone else's.
To su bile uloge koje su postojale za nekog kao što sam ja. Nekoga koga su videli kao previše tamnoputu, debelu, previše siromašnu ili nesofisticiranu. Ove uloge su bile stereotipi i nisu mogle biti dalje od moje realnosti ili od uloga koje sam sanjala da igram. Želela sam da igram ljude koji su kompleksni i multidimenzionalni, koji su postojali u središtu sopstvenih života. A ne kartonske likove koji stoje u pozadini tuđih života.
But when I dared to say that to my manager -- that's the person I pay to help me find opportunity -- his response was, "Someone has to tell that girl she has unrealistic expectations." And he wasn't wrong. I mean, I fired him, but he wasn't wrong.
Ali, kada sam se usudila to da kažem svom menadžeru - osobi koju plaćam za pomoć u pronalaženju prilika - njegov odgovor je bio: „Neko mora da kaže toj devojčici da ima nerealna očekivanja.“ Nije grešio. Mislim, otpustila sam ga, ali nije grešio.
(Laughter)
(Smeh)
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
Because whenever I did try to get a role that wasn't a poorly written stereotype, I would hear, "We're not looking to cast this role diversely." Or, "We love her, but she's too specifically ethnic." Or, "Unfortunately, we already have one Latino in this movie." 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." And so I did, I worked my hardest to overcome all the things that people said were wrong with me. 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.
Jer kad god bih pokušala da dobijem ulogu koja nije loše napisan stereotip, čula bih: „Ne želimo da prikažemo raznolikost kroz ovu ulogu.“ Ili: „Sviđa nam se, ali je previše specifično etnička.“ Ili: „Nažalost, već imamo jednu Latinoamerikanca u ovom filmu." Uporno sam dobijala istu poruku iznova i iznova. Da je moj identitet prepreka koju moram da savladam. I tako sam mislila: „Hajde ako smeš, prepreko. Ja sam Amerikanka. Zovem se Amerika. Ceo život sam se obučavala za ovo, samo ću pratiti priručnik, više ću se truditi.“ I jesam, trudila sam se jako da prevaziđem sve stvari za koje su ljudi rekli da ne valjaju. Klonila sam se sunca kako mi koža ne bi previše potamnela, pokorno sam ispravljala kovrdže. Uporno sam pokušavala da smršam, kupila sam moderniju i skuplju garderobu. Sve to da ljudi, kada me pogledaju, ne vide previše debelu, tamnoputu, previše siromašnu Latinoamerikanku. Već ono za šta sam sposobna. Kako bi mi možda pružili šansu.
And in an ironic twist of fate, when I finally did get a role that would make all my dreams come true, it was a role that required me to be exactly who I was. Ana in "Real Women Have Curves" was a brown, poor, fat Latina. I had never seen anyone like her, anyone like me, existing in the center of her own life story. I traveled throughout the US and to multiple countries with this film where people, regardless of their age, ethnicity, body type, saw themselves in Ana. A 17-year-old chubby Mexican American girl struggling against cultural norms to fulfill her unlikely dream.
Ironičnom igrom slučaja, kada sam konačno dobila ulogu koja bi mi ostvarila sve snove, to je bila uloga koja je zahtevala da budem baš to što jesam. Ana u „Prave žene imaju obline“ je bila tamnoputa, siromašna, debela Latinoamerikanka. Nikada nisam videla nikog kao što je ona, kao što sam ja, da postoji u centru svoje životne priče. Putovala sam kroz SAD i mnogobrojne zemlje sa ovim filmom gde su se ljudi, bez obzira na godine, nacionalnost, tip tela, prepoznali u Ani. Sedamnaestogodišnjoj bucmastoj meksičko-američkoj devojčici koja se bori protiv kulturnih normi kako bi ostvarila svoj neizvesni san.
In spite of what I had been told my whole life, I saw firsthand that people actually did want to see stories about people like me. And that my unrealistic expectations to see myself authentically represented in the culture were other people’s expectations, too. "Real Women Have Curves" was a critical, cultural and financial success. "Great," I thought, "We did it! We proved our stories have value. Things are going to change now."
Uprkos onome što su mi govorili celog mog života, iz prve ruke sam videla da su ljudi ipak želeli da vide priče o ovakvim ljudima. I da su moja nerealistična očekivanja da ću biti autentično kulturno predstavljena bila i očekivanja drugih ljudi. „Prave žene imaju obline“ je postigao kritički, kulturni i finansijski uspeh. „Super,“ pomislila sam, „Uspeli smo!“ Dokazali smo da naše priče vrede. Stvari će se sada promeniti.“
But I watched as very little happened. There was no watershed. No one in the industry was rushing to tell more stories about the audience that was hungry and willing to pay to see them.
Ali, malo toga se desilo. Nije bilo prekretnice. Niko u toj industriji nije hitao da ispriča još priča o publici koja je bila gladna i voljna da plati kako bi ih gledala.
Four years later, when I got to play Ugly Betty, I saw the same phenomenon play out. "Ugly Betty" premiered in the US to 16 million viewers and was nominated for 11 Emmys in its first year.
Četiri godine kasnije, kada sam dobila ulogu Ružne Beti, isti fenomen se odigrao. „Ružna Beti“ je imala premijeru u SAD-u pred 16 miliona gledalaca i bila je nominovana za 11 Emija u toku prve godine.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
But in spite of "Ugly Betty's" success, there would not be another television show led by a Latina actress on American television for eight years. It's been 12 years since I became the first and only Latina to ever win an Emmy in a lead category. That is not a point of pride. That is a point of deep frustration. Not because awards prove our worth, but because who we see thriving in the world teaches us how to see ourselves, how to think about our own value, how to dream about our futures.
Ali, uprkos uspehu „Ružne Beti“, neće biti druge televizijske serije sa Latinoamerikankom u glavnoj ženskoj ulozi na američkoj televiziji u narednih osam godina. Prošlo je 12 godina otkako sam postala prva i jedina Latinoamerikanka koja je ikada osvojila Emi za glavnu ulogu. To nije za ponos. Već povod za duboku frustraciju. Ne zato što nagrade pokazuju našu vrednost, nego zato što oni koji uspevaju u svetu uče nas kako da vidimo sami sebe, kako da razmišljamo o sopstvenoj vrednosti, kako da sanjamo o svojoj budućnosti.
And anytime I begin to doubt that, I remember that there was a little girl, living in the Swat Valley of Pakistan. And somehow, she got her hands on some DVDs of an American television show in which she saw her own dream of becoming a writer reflected. In her autobiography, Malala wrote, "I had become interested in journalism after seeing how my own words could make a difference and also from watching the "Ugly Betty" DVDs about life at an American magazine."
I kad god počnem da sumnjam u to, setim se jedne male devojčice, koja je živela u dolini Svat u Pakistanu. Nekako, dočepala se nekih DVD-ja američke televizijske serije u kojoj je videla odraz sopstvenog sna da postane spisateljica. U svojoj autobiografiji, Malala je napisala: „Zainteresovala sam se za novinarstvo kada sam videla kako moje reči mogu promeniti stvari ali i kada sam gledala „Ružnu Beti“ na DVD-ju o životu u američkom magazinu.“
(Applause)
(Aplauz)
For 17 years of my career, I have witnessed the power our voices have when they can access presence in the culture. I've seen it. I've lived it, we've all seen it. In entertainment, in politics, in business, in social change. We cannot deny it -- presence creates possibility. But for the last 17 years, I've also heard the same excuses for why some of us can access presence in the culture and some of us can't. Our stories don't have an audience, our experiences won't resonate in the mainstream, our voices are too big a financial risk.
Za 17 godina karijere, svedočila sam kako naši glasovi imaju moć kada su prisutni u kulturi. Videla sam to. Doživela sam to, svi smo to videli. U industriji zabave, politici, biznisu, u društvenim promenama. Ne možemo to da poreknemo - prisustvo stvara mogućnosti. Ali, u poslednjih 17 godina, čula sam iste izgovore zašto neki od nas mogu biti prisutni u kulturi a neki od nas ne mogu. Naše priče nemaju publiku, naša iskustva neće imati odjeka u vodećim tokovima, naši glasovi su veliki finansijski rizik.
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." He delivered the message with a broken heart and with a tone that communicated, "I understand how messed up this is." But nonetheless, just like hundreds of times before, I felt the tears roll down my face. And the pang of rejection rise up in me and then the voice of shame scolding me, "You are a grown woman, stop crying over a job." 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.
Pre samo nekoliko godina, agent me je zvao da mi objasni zašto nisam dobila ulogu u filmu. Rekao je: „Svidela si im se i stvarno, stvarno žele raznolike uloge, ali film se ne finansira sve dok prvo ne izaberu belačku ulogu.“ Saopštio mi je poruku slomljenog srca i tonom koji je je značio: „Razumem koliko je ovo zapetljano.“ Ipak, kao i stotinu puta pre, osetila sam suze kako mi se kotrljaju niz lice. I bol odbijanja kako raste u meni, a onda i glas srama kako me grdi: „Ti si odrasla žena, prestani da plačeš zbog posla.“ Prolazila sam kroz ovaj proces godinama prihvatajući neuspeh kao svoj, a onda osećajući veliku sramotu što nisam mogla da prevaziđem prepreke.
But this time, I heard a new voice. A voice that said, "I'm tired. I've had enough." 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.
Ali ovog puta, čula sam novi glas. Glas koji je rekao „Umorna sam. Dosta mi je.“ Glas koji je razumeo da suze i bol nisu zbog gubitka posla. Već zbog onoga šta je to o meni govorilo. Što su o meni celog života govorili direktori i producenti i režiseri i scenaristi, agenti i menadžeri, nastavnici, prijatelji i porodica. Da sam osoba koja manje vredi.
I thought sunscreen and straightening irons would bring about change in this deeply entrenched value system. But what I realized in that moment was that I was never actually asking the system to change. I was asking it to let me in, and those aren't the same thing. 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. And I went about trying to make myself invisible. 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. And what it's led me to believe is that change isn't going to come by identifying the good guys and the bad guys. That conversation lets us all off the hook. Because most of us are neither one of those.
Mislila sam da će krema za sunčanje i aparati za ispravljanje kose doneti promenu u ovom duboko ukorenjenom sistemu vrednosti. Ono što sam shvatila u tom trenutku je da u stvari nikada nisam tražila da se sistem promeni. već da me prihvati, a to nisu iste stvari. Nisam mogla da promenim ono što sistem misli o meni, dok sam verovala u to što sistem misli o meni. A jesam. Ja sam, kao i svi oko mene, verovala da nije moguće da postojim u svom snu takva kakva sam. I nastavila sam sa pokušajima da učinim sebe nevidljivom. Ono što sam shvatila iz ovoga je da je moguće biti osoba koja iskreno želi da vidi promenu i u isto vreme osoba čija dela održavaju stvari kakve jesu. To me je dovelo do toga da verujem da promena neće doći ako otkrijemo dobre i loše ljude. Taj razgovor nas sve oslobađa krivice. Jer većina nas nije ni jedno od toga.
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. I for one, am ready to stop resisting and to start existing as my full and authentic self.
Promena će doći kada svako od nas bude imao hrabrosti da preispita sopstvene osnovne vrednosti i verovanja. I onda se pobrine da naša dela vode ka našim najboljim namerama. Ja sam samo jedna od milion ljudi kojima su rekli da ako želi da ispuni svoje snove, da doprinese svetu svojim talentima mora da se odupre istini o tome ko je. Prvo, spremna sam da prestanem da se opirem i da počnem da postojim kao potpuno autentična i svoja.
If I could go back and say anything to that nine-year-old, dancing in the den, dreaming her dreams, I would say, my identity is not my obstacle. My identity is my superpower. Because the truth is, I am what the world looks like. You are what the world looks like. Collectively, we are what the world actually looks like. And in order for our systems to reflect that, they don't have to create a new reality. They just have to stop resisting the one we already live in.
Kada bih mogla da vratim vreme i kažem bilo šta toj devetogodišnjoj devojčici, koja pleše, sanja svoje snove, rekla bih: moj identitet nije moja prepreka. Moj identitet je moja supermoć. Jer istina je da sam ja ono što je svet. Vi ste ono što je svet. Svi zajedno, mi smo ono što je svet zapravo. A kako bi se to ogledalo u našem sistemu, ne moraju stvoriti novu realnost. Već samo treba da prestanu da poriču ovu u kojoj već živimo.
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Aplauz)