La Reina Del Grito
Grito: Mexican yelling with feeling

🔊 Turn sound on if you want to fully appreciate the sound of competitive yelling 🔊Marisa is a 10-time grito champion in Brownsville, south Texas. It means she’s shouted with one breath for the longest period. Grito literally means, a cry or yell, but the significance behind it is much more than that. It carries emotion, such as joy and excitement, but can also release pain and grief.

Posted by The Guardian on Thursday, May 11, 2017

The city of Brownsville – located on the southernmost tip of Texas, on the border with Mexico – holds an annual Grito Contest. A “grito” is a yell which originated as a war cry and is now a common interjection and a staple of Mexican culture. Marisa Leal is the reigning queen and ten time champion of the contest.

I independently produced and shot this piece which was later published by The Guardian.


Retired puppeteer Addis Williams breathes life into more than just his puppets.
Williams is a marionettist who has been residing in Greenwich Village for the better part of forty years. In this intimate portrait, the wise yet skeptical artist will surely pull at your heart strings.

This (my first) film was produced in collaboration with my good friend Katie Tandy. It was officially selected for the Greenwich Village Film Festival in 2016 and was awarded Best Documentary Super Short at Chain Film Festival, 2017.

A Brief Report On Catcalling

My first attempt at radio storytelling.

The Menstruation Blues

My friend Danielle Hecht and I wrote a song about what it’s like to be on your period.

The Donor Project

I produced a documentary short about artist Jenny Carolin, who has donated her eggs five times. It appeared on The Huffington Post, and it explores the commodification of the human body and the human life.

Send In The Feminist Clown

I produced, shot and edited Send In The Feminist Clown, which was originally published on The Establishment.

Heavy Metal Yoga

I find that going to yoga is a lot like going to the post office: Sometimes you just can’t avoid it, but you know you’ll hate everyone involved. After overhearing one too many conversations about juice cleanses while positioning my yoga mat – invariably next to a drop dead gorgeous Bendy-Wendy who warms up with effortless handstands, and contemplating murdering twosomes doing couples yoga whenever I see them tantric dry humping in the park (seriously guys, get a room), I thought maybe I was done with it. Read the rest of the article on Brokelyn…