I think Death of a Salesman is overrated. Arthur Miller’s most famous piece has been required reading in three of my Dartmouth theatre courses throughout the years, and I am saddened every time I see it on a syllabus. I feel I know Willy Loman and his sons like the back of my hand, and that is exactly the problem: I want art that excites me, art that makes me discover new things with each watch, each re-read. I want art like the stars on a clear day in New England: clothed in layers. I want art that places the human condition beneath a fine microscope. This is the kind of art I strive to make.

It is impossible for me to separate my art from my identities. Raised by a single mother in a conservative town on the border of North Carolina and Virginia, I came to understand my queerness, disability, and Latinx roots in private. I now seek to make them public.

I strive to write authentic and messy characters, characters you love and love to hate. Specifically, I strive to put fallible, real women onstage. My work seeks to challenge history as we have been taught and question authority. My work is anti-imperialist and anti-racist. In some ways, my work is in a love affair with anarchy.

Furthermore, I am not interested in writing “good” endings. I am interested in true endings that reflect the actual circumstances of life. The arts mirror the world. I have embraced the intrinsic value of how the arts have shaped my life, and I aim to enable others to do the same through my writing.