How I'm Navigating White Hollywood and the Pressure to Conform

I make a living acting in the machine known as Hollywood - an industry that commodifies me but isn't for me. An industry where if I am using my hands too much on camera, the director shouts in all seriousness, "Not so much of the ethnic hands!" "White hands, Chris, white hands," I whisper to myself while smiling. By the way - that is a true story. The essence of what I do is put myself in spaces where I must be chosen, where I must be selected as worthy enough to portray this thing. Beyond the ability to act, a large portion has to do with whether I am physically and aesthetically appealing, and pleasing enough to a certain gaze. When you make a living off your desirability, is the power of your body ever just yours? My body has been turned into an object of desire by whiteness, and as long as the main decision-makers and check signers in Hollywood are white bodies, then I must be desirable to and for them. This is why I always say that it is nice to receive fat checks (I have rent to pay), but nothing changes until I and people who look like me are signing them. In my opinion, this is the other side of the same coin of being seen as worthless. Because if I am not desirable in some way, then I am worthless. And I fear that if I am too radically different from what they have already deemed acceptable, then I might lose whatever status I have already worked so hard to achieve. I just might not survive. I made a film about this for The New York Times in 2020. The film was about the paradox of "making it" in Hollywood: to succeed, you need to stand out from the crowd while assimilating to whiteness. You have to strive to be yourself while fitting in. And if you aspire to be like one of those leading men you grew up watching on TV, well, you better look the part. Step one: calm those curls. This was in 2020 - the whispering of change was all around us. With the George Floyd protests, people seemed to have gotten the message: there's a problem and the old ways are not working. Companies and Hollywood started talking about diversity and hiring DEI professionals, and guess what - it didn't do much of anything. While there's been a lot of talk, progress has been modest at best. According to a 2020 Pew Research report, Latines accounted for half the US population growth between 2010 and 2019 and made up 18 percent of the population (this has since increased). When will we get to see our nation's diversity reflected on our screens? I guess until that happens we are forced to fit their model. I'd love to tell you I am 100 percent past caring what they think, but that itch of wondering if I am physically code-switching enough is always in me. I have been a series regular on a network television show. This is a difficult feat for a Dominican, Colombian Brown boy from Queens, and still, in the moments when I am not actively working, I question my own body before the system. I wonder whether I should take all those drug dealer, criminal, day player roles that are still so prominent on our screens. We live in a world where bodies of culture are constantly asked to give up parts of ourselves in order to move forward. This isn't new information but it's worth reiterating. Black and Latine actors are constantly forced to change themselves. This is our fight - the fight of loving and being ourselves. This is our fight - the fight of loving and being ourselves. We fight to love and embrace our curls, our skin tones, and our ethnic features in a world that sells us the idea that simply being ourselves is not good enough. It's a world that sells us the NoseSecret tool, often advertised as "plastic surgery without the surgery." It is a plastic tubing that you manually insert and force into your nose to create a narrower, thinner, and more pointed shape. At only $25, it's a steal! We consider those who commit self-harm a danger to themselves and to society. We criminalize that act. But what about self-hate? Who is there to protect us from all the pretending we do for someone else's gaze? When I told my pops I wanted to play pretend for a living, that I wanted to be an actor, that I wanted to go to Hollywood, he said, "It's gonna be tough, but look the part. Pretend. Fake it till you make it." I have pretended. But at what cost? I kept my hair short and I got the nose job my first manager told me to get. And it worked. I worked a lot more. That's the sad part about all of this. What gets me is when I still hear white actors saying things like, "You're so lucky. You're Latin, everyone wants you right now. I'm just white. I got nothing." Or the man I bought a piano bench from on Craigslist who said to me, "It's great they're looking for more minorities, but now I can't get a role, you know?" I took a scriptwriting class, and what I learned is a bit disheartening. The longevity of a show is built on the idea that its characters can never really change. For the most part, lead characters need to remain self-sabotaging and can nev