The Inspiration Behind Morir Soñando: The First All&Dominican Comedy Show
The Inspiration Behind Morir Soñando: The First All&Dominican Comedy Show
When fellow emerging comedian Glorelys Mora and I first met in the comedy scene - it was an instant connection. I was in awe of her ability to capture and materialize people's need for expression through comedy. Her determination and contagious, guttural laugh drew me in, and we quickly bonded over our shared experiences and challenges as Dominican comedians. As comics, we spent hours discussing how difficult it was to gain support and recognition in an industry that often overlooks voices like ours. Our conversations sparked a vision: to create a dedicated platform that would elevate Dominican voices in comedy.
When we started Morir Soñando, it was a venture born out of necessity and a deep love for our culture. I'd long felt comedy was missing something crucial - an authentic representation of Dominican voices. While the comedy scene is vibrant and diverse, Dominican comedians often lack a platform that celebrates our unique perspectives and experiences. This gap in representation motivated us to create a space where our stories could be told unapologetically.
I sometimes joke about being emotionally constipated. What I mean by that is I don't know how to cry, but I do know how to make a joke about it. Laughter grounds the moment and transcends people's identity and status. It's the very thing that reminds us we are alive and present. Comedy is like feeding medicine with candy; it brings awareness to difficult topics with levity. And as a result, it often supports us with our mental health and through some of life's most challenging moments, including loss and trauma.
Growing up, I often felt lonely as a kid who struggled with depression, but humor was the one thing that kept me from feeling completely isolated. Humor and laughter bring people together. It doesn't matter what you're going through; laughter acknowledges that you are present in the moment with others, whether you know them or not. Making jokes about being an affair child makes me feel like less of a burden to my family because I get to bring levity to such a serious issue. It also lets people like me know they aren't alone. A laugh can heal someone's pain and suffering.
When it comes to comedy, comedy is such an essential way of communication in my family. That's how we dealt with our trauma. I didn't know I was funny until people told me, and I was able to grow and realize I could make a living off of this. But I also don't see many people like me making strides in this industry. When I first saw Aida Rodriguez on "Last Comic Standing" in 2014, I felt an instant connection because her experiences were so relatable to mine. It wasn't until I became a comedian that I realized how underrepresented we are.
But that also means we constantly face a crossroads in this industry: do we assimilate or pave our own way? In the American market, stand-up comedy is often seen as either Black or white. As an American, I embrace my Blackness, but what about my parents' Dominican identity and my upbringing at home? Should I shut down that part of me to be more palatable for the "mainstream"?
Glorelys and I wanted to create a space for people like us to navigate these questions - similar to what Def Comedy Jam did for the Black American community. I always related more to Black American comics because their comedy was honest and raw, reflecting struggles similar to mine. Still, there was limited space for people who looked like me and also spoke Spanish.
Ultimately, the inspiration for Morir Soñando came from a profound need to see ourselves reflected on stage, not just as a token presence, but as the main event. Over 42 million people in America speak Spanish. It's inevitable for people to be bilingual and speak Spanglish in this country. We wanted to create something that evolves the conversation around Latinidad, showing that it is not a monolith but as diverse as every American in this country. Our comedy shows are not meant to exclude any nationality; quite the opposite. We want to embrace others while creating a place where talent like ours can connect with people who might not have known we exist.
We launched our first show in 2019 to highlight and celebrate Dominican comedians, showcasing our rich cultural heritage and the humor that springs from it. Last year, we made history with a show at the United Palace, an achievement that underscored the importance and impact of our mission. We are returning to United Palace for our next show on July 26 and are thrilled to be moving to the venue's main theater, which seats audiences of up to 3,350, for our November show.
However, producing these events has not been without its challenges. Financially, it has been incredibly demanding. Securing support from the community is crucial to sustain and grow these events. It's notoriously difficult to get Latine events sponsored, so Glorelys and I financed it ourselves, which reflects broader issues of representation and support for minority communities in the a
When fellow emerging comedian Glorelys Mora and I first met in the comedy scene - it was an instant connection. I was in awe of her ability to capture and materialize people's need for expression through comedy. Her determination and contagious, guttural laugh drew me in, and we quickly bonded over our shared experiences and challenges as Dominican comedians. As comics, we spent hours discussing how difficult it was to gain support and recognition in an industry that often overlooks voices like ours. Our conversations sparked a vision: to create a dedicated platform that would elevate Dominican voices in comedy.
When we started Morir Soñando, it was a venture born out of necessity and a deep love for our culture. I'd long felt comedy was missing something crucial - an authentic representation of Dominican voices. While the comedy scene is vibrant and diverse, Dominican comedians often lack a platform that celebrates our unique perspectives and experiences. This gap in representation motivated us to create a space where our stories could be told unapologetically.
I sometimes joke about being emotionally constipated. What I mean by that is I don't know how to cry, but I do know how to make a joke about it. Laughter grounds the moment and transcends people's identity and status. It's the very thing that reminds us we are alive and present. Comedy is like feeding medicine with candy; it brings awareness to difficult topics with levity. And as a result, it often supports us with our mental health and through some of life's most challenging moments, including loss and trauma.
Growing up, I often felt lonely as a kid who struggled with depression, but humor was the one thing that kept me from feeling completely isolated. Humor and laughter bring people together. It doesn't matter what you're going through; laughter acknowledges that you are present in the moment with others, whether you know them or not. Making jokes about being an affair child makes me feel like less of a burden to my family because I get to bring levity to such a serious issue. It also lets people like me know they aren't alone. A laugh can heal someone's pain and suffering.
When it comes to comedy, comedy is such an essential way of communication in my family. That's how we dealt with our trauma. I didn't know I was funny until people told me, and I was able to grow and realize I could make a living off of this. But I also don't see many people like me making strides in this industry. When I first saw Aida Rodriguez on "Last Comic Standing" in 2014, I felt an instant connection because her experiences were so relatable to mine. It wasn't until I became a comedian that I realized how underrepresented we are.
But that also means we constantly face a crossroads in this industry: do we assimilate or pave our own way? In the American market, stand-up comedy is often seen as either Black or white. As an American, I embrace my Blackness, but what about my parents' Dominican identity and my upbringing at home? Should I shut down that part of me to be more palatable for the "mainstream"?
Glorelys and I wanted to create a space for people like us to navigate these questions - similar to what Def Comedy Jam did for the Black American community. I always related more to Black American comics because their comedy was honest and raw, reflecting struggles similar to mine. Still, there was limited space for people who looked like me and also spoke Spanish.
Ultimately, the inspiration for Morir Soñando came from a profound need to see ourselves reflected on stage, not just as a token presence, but as the main event. Over 42 million people in America speak Spanish. It's inevitable for people to be bilingual and speak Spanglish in this country. We wanted to create something that evolves the conversation around Latinidad, showing that it is not a monolith but as diverse as every American in this country. Our comedy shows are not meant to exclude any nationality; quite the opposite. We want to embrace others while creating a place where talent like ours can connect with people who might not have known we exist.
We launched our first show in 2019 to highlight and celebrate Dominican comedians, showcasing our rich cultural heritage and the humor that springs from it. Last year, we made history with a show at the United Palace, an achievement that underscored the importance and impact of our mission. We are returning to United Palace for our next show on July 26 and are thrilled to be moving to the venue's main theater, which seats audiences of up to 3,350, for our November show.
However, producing these events has not been without its challenges. Financially, it has been incredibly demanding. Securing support from the community is crucial to sustain and grow these events. It's notoriously difficult to get Latine events sponsored, so Glorelys and I financed it ourselves, which reflects broader issues of representation and support for minority communities in the a