[Traffic noise] [Tapping] Dulé Hill: Texas–a state so large, it feels like its own country, a place that is made up of a diverse group of people, all of these different histories, all of these different stories coming together.
A lot of artists here are breaking down barriers, fighting to reclaim ownership of their story.
There’s something about when you see yourself reflected that allows you to believe that you exist.
Man: When I first started painting, I thought I was completely crazy.
There weren’t blind painters.
Dulé: Seeing yourself reflected helps you realize that you matter.
Actors: We want our rights!
We want…
Actors begin to realize, “I can be proud of who I am…” Actors: Walk out!
“I can fight for what I deserve.”
¡Crystal!
Dulé: There are many people in this world who create space out of nothing.
They are the ones turning on the light, setting the path, and then guiding others along the journey.
Woman: I have a responsibility now to lead because of the atrocities that happened to our people.
Dulé: I’m Dulé Hill.
As a lifelong dancer, actor, and singer, the arts are what drive me.
Art builds bridges.
Art creates change.
Art is powerful.
[Tapping] Some of the artists that have paved the way for me have been Gregory Hines and Harold Nicholas.
They were tap-dancers who were also actors.
Having that representation and being able to see and engage with them allowed me to find my identity as an artist.
Harold Nicholas: Ah!
[Applause] [Wind blowing] [Horn blowing] ♪ [Drums beating] ♪ Woman: If we don’t know the roots that we come from, we don’t really understand where we’re going.
[Person chanting] Woman: Aztec dancing is a form of heightened meditation.
The dances move our spirit to connect with the land.
Hoo ah!
We allow the drum to take our body and move it and to move our feet.
And we’re actually manifesting our thoughts through the prayers.
It allows you to get in this wave of this vibration through the drums and through the songs.
It moves you, and then the healing begins.
♪ Dulé: We’re on the north side of Houston right now.
Houston is the fourth-largest city in the country.
70,000 Indigenous people here.
That’s a large population.
There should be programs and systems in place to make sure that that community’s history stays alive.
Abuela M’api Rainflowa is fighting for her people to be seen and using her artistry to connect to her roots and maintain the story of the Indigenous people here in Texas.
Abuela M’api Rainflowa: Hi.
Dulé: How is everything?
Abuela M’api: Good.
Dulé: Dulé.
Very nice– Abuela M’api: Hold on.
I’m gonna teach you.
Our handshake is like this.
Dulé: I love it.
Abuela M’api: And then camaraderie here.
Yeah, and then back to your heart space.
You touch the vein.
Dulé: Here?
I love it.
Boom.
Oh, come on, now.
Ha ha!
Abuela M’api: Now you got it.
A lot of us grew up around here.
This is our home base park.
What we’re gonna do is we’re gonna siembra the land, which means, like, fertilize it or seed it.
We’re going to get it ready for our dance.
We’re in what’s called Sun Dance season right now.
That’s why we’re going to teach you Sun Dance, the actual dance, the Aztec/Mexica dance.
Anytime dancers dance, what we’re doing is we’re connecting with the land.
Dulé: Mm-hmm.
Abuela M’api: We’re asking it to be fertile.
We’re asking it to cleanse us, too.
You can look around.
There’s a lot of unhoused relatives here.
Dulé: Right.
Abuela M’api: There’s a lot of addiction and problems.
And so we feel like when we push out this, it actually, like, changes.
Dulé: So you’re using your, like, the dance to really send out good energy.
Abuela M’api: Mm-hmm.
Dulé: In the first few minutes of us here meeting, I can tell there’s so much history.
Abuela M’api: Uh-huh.
Dulé: How did you tap into all the history?
Abuela M’api: Ah, yeah.
That’s a whole story in itself.
Dulé: See?
Ha ha!
Abuela M’api, voice-over: I grew up typical Mexican-American/ Chicano family, really devout Catholic for generations.
I didn’t ever see parents fight in my home, so I didn’t really understand a lot of the trauma that I was being raised around in the barrio.
[Sirens in distance] There was alcoholism, drug addictions, intergenerational abuse.
A lot of those things happen with our community.
My folks come from those kind of roots, and they were trying to do something better for us, and they put us in private schools and kind of kept us sheltered.
Dulé: When did those dots first connect for you to say, “Wait a second.
There’s more to this than what I’m realizing”?
Abuela M’api: Yeah.
When I was, like, 18… Dulé: Mm-hmm.
Abuela M’api: I got out of the city, and I went to a Catholic college.
I wanted to work for the Church.
I wanted to be a canon lawyer, like a papal lawyer, like, defend the Church.
I was, like, hardcore.
I had a professor, he asked me if I realized who I was, and I said, “No.
What do you mean?”
“Like, what tribe are you?”
I was like, “Man, come on.”
And he’s just like, “Have you looked in the mirror?”
And I’m like, “Well, yeah, of course.
I know I look Native, but I think I’m just of Mexican descent.”
And that’s what he was like, “Do you know what the Church did to your people?”
And I was like, “No.”
[Bell ringing] He was like, “Go to the library and just look up “‘Texas Indian missions.’
See what you find and come back.”
Native Americans were getting colonized by learning Spanish, by being baptized, by being forced to learn how to live in this society that was indoctrinated upon us.
And then when we traced our roots back through the historical records, I found my great-great-great- great-great-grandparents from 1850.
We realized, yeah, we were Southern Plains Texan Native Americans that somehow survived the genocides that happened over a 500-year span.
Dulé: What happened after you learned all that history?
Abuela M’api: I became atheist.
I threw a big middle finger up to the Church.
[Laughter] I was angry at the system, and I was angry at the colonization, and I flipped that into– into hip hop music.
I got more hardcore rebellious.
I really hit the streets with my graffiti.
I was going through a lot of darkness.
Domestic violence, alcoholism.
This was all before my children still.
Dulé: How many children do you have?
Abuela M’api: 3.
Dulé: 3?
Abuela M’api: Mm-hmm.
I raised them in these ceremonies, and I raised them in the dance.
This Aztec dance started in Mexico.
That’s what this is we’re doing.
Dulé: This right here?
Abuela M’api: All the dancers have seed pods on their feet, so when we all move together in unison, it’s the sounds of the rain.
When I first discovered Danza Azteca, I was 22.
It was with elders running all-night ceremonies or mitotes.
In the morning, they had a sweat lodge and then they also had Danza Azteca.
They were all moving together, going hard for, like, 4 hours in the direct sun, dancing all these movements I had never seen before.
It was really awesome to watch, but something was pulling me, pulling me, so I just kept going.
[Drums beating] When I ate peyote for the first time, it felt right.
There’s a lot of purging going on.
I knew that the peyote was cleaning my mind, body, heart, spirit out.
The more I would go back in the streets and act a fool, I would have a harder time with these ceremonies.
I’d be vomiting, and I’d smell or taste the alcohol.
And then next time I went to go drink, I’d smell and taste the peyote.
So I realized that our teachers and our elders still were maintaining this little bit of knowledge enough, and that’s where I was drawn to it.
Then I became a little bit more involved in the Red Road.
The Red Road is a way of life for people that pick up Native American traditions.
People, they are walking on the Red Road, are walking on the good road.
This way of life definitely was making me a better person, so I just kept going.
♪ [Tapping] Dulé: To become a leader, you have to personally know yourself, know who you are, know where you are, and know your history.
That is how you know where you’re going.
But how can you envision your future when all you see is darkness?
Man: I think I could draw before I could walk.
I had done art literally every day of my life.
It was my way of dealing with things and my way of expressing myself.
Whenever I lost my eyesight, it didn’t even occur to me that I would ever be able to draw again.
I just thought my life was over.
But after the eyesight, art changed for me.
It became a way for me to reconnect with people.
It just changed everything.
Dulé: We are here in Denton, Texas, getting ready to meet a fine gentleman by the name of John Bramblitt, the dynamic painter whose work has very vibrant colors.
Realistic but also abstract.
But the thing that makes John interesting is that he’s a visionary who cannot see.
And John has made it his mission to lead other artists with disabilities to realize their own potential.
♪ Ah!
[Knocks on door] Hey.
John Bramblitt: Hi.
Welcome, welcome.
Come on in, please.
Dulé: Very nice to meet you.
John: Well, it’s good to meet you.
This is Eagle.
Dulé: Eagle?
John: She’s my guide dog.
Dulé: Hi, Eagle.
Happy to see you, too.
[Chuckles] John: This room is a mess, and it’s always changing.
There’s paints and… Dulé: Yeah, man!
John: So over here, I’m working on a mural for the Children’s Hospital in Fort Worth.
One of the main things about it is just for it to be happy and a calming sort of painting, so the children that are going there, they can just experience it.
Dulé: Feel the warmth of it.
John: Yeah!
When I was a kid, I was in the hospitals quite a bit.
And one of the things I loved was the artwork that you would see.
So whenever they asked me to do this, I was just so excited about it.
Growing up, I was born with severe epilepsy.
I was in and out of hospitals a lot.
If I was having emotions that I couldn’t deal with that I didn’t understand, I didn’t know, and art helped me through that.
And I couldn’t put it into words.
I could draw it out, express myself that way.
I thought, you know, “This is the best way to cope with something.”
Like, all you need is a scrap of paper and a broken pencil even, and you can sketch, you can draw.
I learned how to do, like, anime and cartoons and portrait work.
I was just obsessed with it.
When I first started college, right out of high school, I was having a lot of trouble with the epilepsy.
I would have these massive seizures where my heart would stop, my breathing would stop.
When I would come back to, the vision would be very blurry.
A neurologist said it was just like getting hit with a hammer over and over and over again.
Finally my doctor, she set me down and said, “You know, this isn’t going to get any better.
“It’s only going to get worse, and you’re going to lose the rest of the vision.”
At this point, I was so angry and I was so depressed.
People that are isolated from other people, even for a short amount of time, your sanity starts to go to the point where it didn’t seem like it was worth living anymore.
I went to my university, and I went to the Office of Disability, and I talked to the director, and I was like, “Well, I’m gonna have to leave school.
I’m losing my eyesight.”
He was like, “John, what are you talking about?
“You don’t have to go anywhere.
“We can do everything.
Like, you can be whatever you want.
You can do whatever you want.”
But, um… [Eagle whines] What helped me was the people around me.
They made it where I was able to stay in school, I was able to be there while I was learning how to use a cane, while I was learning how to eat without knocking your glass over all the time, how to cook.
After about a year, I could leave my little college apartment that was close to the university and cross a couple of streets I needed to cross to get to it.
I thought if I could do that in the real world, surely I can navigate something much simpler and much smaller, like a canvas.
So I started trying to draw a square and then tried to draw another square that’s half the size of that square, and so I… was trying to feel it.
Dulé: Right.
John: and to visualize it in your mind.
And then once I got that a little bit and I thought, “You know, I can draw at least simple shapes.”
Then I started to get into color.
I was so afraid that I was going to forget what color even looked like, but it turns out that wasn’t a thing.
You don’t have to worry about that.
It’s still inside there.
It’s… John: Yeah, yeah.
So I thought I understood color, but my son, when he was born and I could feel his face, you know, when he’s taking his first breaths, my brain just exploded with color, and it changed the way I painted.
After that, I understood color in a completely different way.
Dulé: It’s really magnificent.
John: I’d love to do a painting of you, if you wouldn’t mind if I felt your face and saw what you look like.
Dulé: I would love it.
John: Have a seat.
Dulé: Sure.
This is a first.
All right.
John: Well, you know, for me, too.
I’ve never felt your face before, so it’s a first for me.
I usually start with the hair.
I’m gonna squeeze in here.
Dulé: OK. All right.
John: And what you’re looking for is the outside line and then the ears.
Find the jawline… and then the lips.
Thank you so much, Dulé.
Dulé: Walk me through your process.
How do you get to something from nothing?
John: A lot of times, I’ll start with feeling a face, but also, this is the first time in history where people with visual impairments can use technology and have screen readers to be able to understand a photograph.
So this has scanned a photo of your face.
I can use the software to start at least getting an idea of a basic composition.
You know, just the basic head shape or where–how far apart the eyes are and that sort of thing, like with the anatomy.
[Computer beeping in varying pitches] But, like, here, so, like, where you can follow it…
So whenever I hear that high pitch, I know I’m on a line.
Then it stops.
But I can feel the angle of which way my finger’s going, so when I go over here, I get going, and I know, OK, well, I’m at least going to go in this same sort of angle.
Dulé: Right.
[Beeps] ♪ A lot of times when you think of a disability, there’s, like, “Oh, that’s too bad,” or, “That’s sad.”
You get this negative sort of feeling.
And art has a great way to show that it’s not about what you lost, but it’s about, What can you do and what can you experience?
♪ [Train whistle blowing] ♪ Dulé: The power of the human spirit is really an inspiring thing– how we can overcome great adversity with great courage, with great determination.
But what if adversity doesn’t just impact one individual but an entire community, even an entire people?
Man: Just go ahead and get into your body.
Just kind of loosen up and shake it out and take a breath.
Just lift up my hips and just begin to rotate them.
Find your performer’s body.
Man, voice-over: Theater is everything.
It’s every discipline.
It’s acting, music, dance, visual art.
But what really makes live theater so important is the connection between the performers and the audience.
Man: Just take it nice and easy.
Just go through the sequence.
Man, voice-over: We get to take the expanse of our lives and condense them, so that people are experiencing the most powerful and intense and transformational moments of one’s living experience.
Dulé: I’m at the Sammons Center here in Dallas, Texas, meeting David Lozano, who is the executive artistic director of the Cara Mía Theatre, one of the largest Latinx theater companies here in Dallas.
They employ artists from the community, highlighting and amplifying the stories of Latinx people.
Hey, ha ha!
How are you doing, David?
David Lozano: Good, good.
Dulé: So good to meet you, man.
So good to meet you.
David: We’re just finishing up a rehearsal.
It’s OK. Esto es el centro de detenciones conocido como “Úrsula”.
Dulé: Now, what project is this that…
It’s called “Ursula, or let yourself go with the wind.”
It’s about family separation on the U.S./Mexico border.
Dulé: It’s important to have that kind of subject matter on a stage.
David: Yeah, absolutely.
Yo soy migrante.
Dulé: You said this is the headquarters.
How long have you all been working out of this space?
David: We’ve been here since 2014.
So here’s our office.
Dulé: What are some of the things you have coming up?
I know you have “Ursula.”
And what else do you have going on right now?
David: So one thing that’s exciting that you’ll see a little bit of tonight, which is the screening of “Crystal City 1969.”
Dulé: OK. David: So that’s a play that was transformative for our company.
Cara Mía Theatre was founded as the first Chicano theater in Dallas in 1996.
It was co-founded by Eliberto Gonzalez and Adelina Anthony to reflect the Mexican-American experiences on Dallas stages.
I became the artistic director in 2002, and my friend, Raul Trevino Jr., said, “Hey, on December 9, 2009, “we’re going to have the 40th anniversary of the historic student walkout in Crystal City, Texas.”
And he said, “David, we should create this play and produce it.”
And so the play “Crystal City 1969” became a model for all of our work.
♪ [Popcorn popping] ♪ Buenas noches.
[Cheering and applause] ¡Eso!
If you were like me, you did not learn about “Crystal City 1969” in schools, but now with this film, we can deliver the story of “Crystal City 1969” throughout the world.
[Cheering and applause] David, voice-over: In 1969, the world was full of revolution and change, and it reached the small town of Crystal City, Texas.
Latino students decided that they were going to stand up and protest discrimination in schools.
They said, “We deserve to go to school and not be punished for speaking Spanish.”
Actors, as protestors: We want our rights!
Actor, as protestor: What do we have?
Actors: Chicano power!
Actor: What do we have… David: We premiered the play “Crystal City 1969” on the 40th anniversary to the day of the original walkout.
-Chicano power!
-What do we have?
-Chicano power!
-What do we have?
Actors, as protestors: Chicano power… [Indistinct chatter] David: And the reaction was incredible.
People in the audience were many of the people who were reflected and represented onstage.
Qué tonto eres.
Dámelo, dame mis.. Actor, as principal: Severita, you come here right now!
David: One former board member said, in the post-show talkback, which lasted an hour, “When that principal spank those children for speaking Spanish…” Actor, as principal: Turn around.
Lean forward.
Hold onto the edge of the desk.
[Severita moaning] She said, “My inner child woke up, “and I was traumatized once again, because that was me who was spanked for speaking Spanish.”
Woman: Sorry.
I don’t remember your name.
Dulé: All right.
All right.
How are you doing, sir?
Dulé Hill.
Nice to meet you.
-Severita Lara.
-Severita, very nice to meet you.
So can you talk to me about the power of the walkout?
Severita: We had tried everything because we didn’t want them– our parents– to think that we just wanted to walk out.
Man: The board has done all it’s going to do.
Severita, you need to go speak to the principal right now.
Severita: We went to the principal.
We went to the board, as for board hearings, to make our presentations, and nothing worked.
Actor, as student: We just want to be heard.
Different actor: Spanish is just as good as English.
We want bilingual education.
Man: We knew that education in Texas is financed with local property taxes.
So then the state comes in and kicks in a certain amount of money based on per-pupil attendance.
So when we started pulling out the students, that hurt… Dulé: It came down to economics.
José Angel Gutiérrez: because that’s their money.
And they understand about money.
Actor, as principal: We’re losing money here, sir.
We’re reporting more and more absences every day.
David: And at a certain point of the walkout, these teenagers started persuading their parents to run for office.
Actor: If you don’t run, we’d have the same gringo-run board.
And if you don’t win, all those kids will flunk.
David: And by the time of the elections, Mexicanos had run the table of the school board… and the city council.
And they took over the town, and Spanish was required to be spoken, read, and written in Crystal City by all students from kindergarten to 12th grade.
Students were required to learn about Mexican history next to United States history.
Actor: Our students will learn about Mexican and Mexican-American history.
[Students cheering] Dulé: That was in 1969.
Woman: Right.
She was 17, he was 16, and I was 15.
Dulé: Oh, wow.
And now to have an artistic version of your story being told now, what does that mean for you all?
Severita: To me, this has been an honor because the kids come back, they learn something.
The students going to see the play, they couldn’t believe that we did that.
They’ll come and ask me, “Weren’t you afraid of the gringos?
I said, “Well, a little, but we didn’t show it,” you know.
They would spit at us, throw stuff at us when we were walking out.
But we knew what we wanted, and we went for it.
¡Sí se puede!
¡Sí se puede!
¡Sí se puede!
Woman, voice-over: Our stories have never been told.
So we hope to inspire the youth, so that we can pass the baton.
Actors: We are Chicanos!
David: It’s a shame when our schools are not teaching this story, because young people need to believe in who they are and to know that they belong and that they can speak their languages freely.
And that is what this generation ahead of us fought for, and that is what we’re here for.
So “Crystal City,” the play, was the road map for us, and we began to realize we were going to create a space where our stories can be told… Esos hombres nos están amenazando.
¡Nos tenemos que ir!
David: and our experiences are reflected… Mami, sabés que es lo mejor para vos.
David: within a community setting, and we can know that we belong.
Raza… ¡Recuerda, Crystal!
♪ [Cheering and applause] ♪ Abuela M’api: If y’all want to be introduced, come.
She’s brand new.
Would you like to teach her the Mexica handshake that I just taught you?
Yes.
Dulé: Yes.
Abuela M’api: So this is the Mexica handshake.
You gotta touch each other’s veins.
Dulé: Yeah.
Abuela M’api: Yeah.
Now touch each other’s shoulders… Dulé: See?
Abuela M’api: and then back to your veins.
Dulé: Nice to meet you.
Woman: Nice to meet you… Dulé: Good.
Heh!
Abuela M’api, voice-over: Houston Azteca Dance was designed and developed by my children and I to teach people about our Native American history and also the Native American teachings, because they are for everyone in the world.
Ximena is a young woman that I just recently met.
I just saw, like, a younger version of myself.
Totally curious.
Don’t know much.
I have no idea what her personal histories are.
I just know that she is driven to come and be around us.
Ximena Cabrera: I’ve gone through a lot of traumas– physically, mentally, emotionally, and sexually.
I just thought to myself, I need to join something.
I need to get into dance.
I need to figure out how I’m going to get closer to my spiritual journey, so I can learn to love myself more.
Abuela M’api: Bringing people into the circle, teaching them the circle concept instead of hierarchal, teaching them about respect, looking at one another.
Irregardless of what kind of car you drive, what’s in your bank account, what kind of clothes you have on, I don’t care.
Like, we’re just going to move and we’re gonna honor the earth because we all need clean air, clean water, clean food.
We all need the earth.
[Speaking Nahuatl] [Horns blowing] Shake your rattles.
OK. We’re gonna open the gate and let our guest Dulé in.
[Horns blowing] ♪ So welcome into our circle.
You’re going to come on into the center, and we’re going to show you some steps of the Sun Dance.
OK.
So this is the movement of this, of the rising sun and the setting sun.
Lightly jog to the left… [Drum beating] then jump up in the air and land.
Squat.
Yep.
[Music stops] Turn and do it the other way.
Ready?
Go.
Run.
[Drums beating] Jump up and land.
Now, this is called the Quetzalcoatl.
It’s the representation of the sun going across the sky.
So we’re going to crisscross.
Show him how the crisscross goes.
Forward, back, crisscross, then stop.
Yep.
And do it again.
Ximena: I had a revelation that Westernization and the way everything is now, it’s pretty dangerous.
It’s just washing away the past, trying to bury it.
But it’s important for me to learn who I am.
That’s the true journey for me.
[Drums beating] Abuela M’api, voice-over: Today, a lot of our people, we have so much generational trauma still, but we’ve now become assimilated.
So when you’re talking about many people in the state that considers themselves Latinos or Hispanics, if they understood their lineages and their roots, the state would have a problem with people wanting their land back.
We’re called immigrants on our own land.
So we’re in diaspora in our own ancient homelands.
They don’t want us to acknowledge our roots, so that’s why today we show the strength of our people.
We show our regalia.
We keep the knowledge alive through the songs and through the dance.
Abuela M’api: Are you ready?
Dulé: I think so.
Abuela M’api: That was the tutorial.
I think you got this.
Ready?
Dulé: I’m following you.
[Drums beating] ♪ [Dancer cheers] Ximena: Hearing the drums and the rattles– these instruments, they just hit me different.
It’s not just any dance.
It’s more ceremonial.
It’s more spiritual.
It’s like a gateway to where I want to end up eventually.
Abuela M’api: All right.
Good job.
Whoo-ooh!
You can go ahead and exit back out.
Dulé: All right.
Abuela M’api: All right.
Ha ha!
Dulé: Thank you all.
Abuela M’api: How was it?
Good?
Dulé: Beautiful.
Abuela M’api: How do you feel?
Dulé: I feel good.
Abuela M’api: All right.
Good.
Dulé: I feel magnificent.
Abuela M’api: Good.
Dulé: I feel tired.
Abuela M’api: Yes.
Dulé: And I feel energized.
Abuela M’api: And you realize how beautiful a glass of water can be.
Dulé: Yes, it is.
I appreciate that much more.
[Drums beating] [Abuela M’api speaking Nahuatl] Dulé, voice-over: This one is a little different than the other experiences I’ve had so far because, yes, I’m interacting with people who are using their expression to create space and find their voice, but I’ve yet to come across a group that has gone this deep with their expression.
The drums take them to the dance.
The dance takes them to go deeper into the spiritual.
♪ Abuela M’api: We’re done.
[Participant cheers] We have other ceremonies that can do deeper-rooted work.
Do you want to go?
Dulé: If I’m invited, then I will be.
Abuela M’api: Yeah.
Cool, cool.
Get some rest tonight.
Ha ha!
Tomorrow’s gonna be hard.
♪ Dulé: What’s it like to create art when you can’t see?
I’m heading to John’s gallery for a workshop that simulates his unique painting process.
[Snoring] Dulé: Good to see you.
John: Welcome to the Yellow Dog.
Dulé: Thank you, thank you.
John: How you doing?
Dulé: Good.
Glad to be here.
Here’s the boss.
This is fabulous.
Woman: It’s Disability Pride Month, and the show going on right now is really celebrating everybody’s challenges and achievements.
John: We want to be a safe space for people to come and feel included and feel OK, and be able to communicate and express themselves.
I was a professional artist probably for about 5 years before I decided that it was OK to do that, that that might be OK to make a living.
One of my first art shows, I didn’t tell people I was blind.
We would do the art show, and I would help hang it, but then I would go away.
I wouldn’t go to the art opening or reception or anything, and I didn’t want people to think about the vision loss whenever they were looking at my paintings.
But the shows actually did well.
And then it got out that I was visually impaired, and then some stories were written, which was the best thing that could have happened to me, because some nonprofits and charities, they reached out to me and they were saying, “Hey, can you come and talk to our people?
Maybe do an art workshop or just come and do a chat.”
So I started working with the Dallas Museum of Art, worked with the Met.
We did a thing with the Guggenheim, museums all over the country.
I found that if I go somewhere, I’m doing a workshop or talking to people that want to find out more about disability and disability awareness, that I had that same peace that I get whenever I’m in front of the easel.
Dulé: We’re doing a workshop, you said.
John: Yeah, it’ll be fun.
I can’t wait to put a blindfold on you… Dulé: Ha ha!
I’m looking forward to it.
Let’s roll.
Yeah.
John: Hey, guys.
Dulé: Hello.
Dulé: This is the first time for all of you all painting.
All right.
We’re all going to go on this journey together.
John: It’s all about fun.
It’s about exploring.
It’s just about trying different things.
So there is no wrong.
There’s no way to mess up in this workshop.
Jacqui is going to hand out some raised line drawings.
And go ahead and look at it if you have sight.
And you can feel it with your fingers.
But everybody is getting a flower.
Very often when you’re painting without sight, you’re going to get lost, so it’s nice to be able to have a spot where you can orient yourself.
So with this, you can always find the bottom of the paper, so you know where you are.
Then you can start reaching up, then you can feel where the stem of the flower is and you start working up from there.
But it gives you a place to be able to just reorient.
John, voice-over: When I first started, 99% of my workshops were for people that don’t have a disability.
Most people, when I tell them how I paint, you know, like, “Well, that kind of makes sense,” but it’s in an intellectual kind of way.
But then the workshop, I tell them that, “Well, “you can feel the lines, you can feel where you are.
Every color feels different.”
In about 5 or 10 minutes, there’s usually this aha moment because you’re able to feel the drawing, you’re able to feel where you’re putting the paint.
And it’s not necessarily easy, but everybody is able to understand at least one color.
And then this whole world of vision just sort of opens up.
One of the ways that I’m able to tell color is I’ll mix different mediums in with the paint.
So for the white, we mix a little flour in it, so it makes it thicker.
The yellow has a little birdseed, so it makes it lumpy.
The red has a little bit of sand, so it makes it gritty.
And then the blue is just sort of a runny paint.
John, voice-over: Art saved my life.
It gave me a better life.
Art teaches us a lot.
I think one of the best lessons that it taught me is that it’s OK to fail, it’s OK to not be right all the time, to not always be successful with everything you do every moment that you’re doing it.
If you fail at it but you learn from it, you’re able to get one step closer, you know, it’s an unstoppable kind of thing.
Dulé: I mean, so far I’ve tried to do yellow, white, and red.
Now, I’ll be interested to see.
I don’t know if I’ve done red.
I haven’t been able to– I know the white feels, I believe.
I know how the yellow feels.
John: Where a lot of times people who are sighted will just start painting, and they’re using one hand, and they’ll just start painting because they have an idea in their mind of what it is they’re doing, and then they take the blindfold off, they’re like, “Oh, OK!”
Dulé: I have a feeling that might be me.
Ha ha!
John: All right, guys, whenever you all are ready, you can take your blindfold off.
Dulé: Well, here I go.
Ah.
Ah!
[Laughter] John: Does it look anything like what you thought?
Dulé: I look at the paint, and it’s like I didn’t even touch the blue, you know?
The white is down there, I think.
I need some work.
I have a long way– I have a long way to go.
John: Hi.
Oh, Joe.
Welcome.
Welcome, guys.
Dulé: Nice to meet you, Joe.
You’re the one that does the wood.
Joe: Yeah.
Dulé: All right.
John: Everything that’s hanging in the gallery is featuring artists with a disability.
One gentleman, Joe Rivas, he has cerebral palsy, and he does pyrography, where he burns.
And it’s just the most incredible thing, because every mark that’s made in his paintings is just this incredible intention.
Hey, Joe, do you want to show Dulé this?
Dulé: That’s amazing.
Can I touch it?
[Joe speaking indistinctly] Dulé: Wow.
How did you find your way to pyrographics?
Dulé: You love it?
Mm-hmm.
How important is this community?
Like, having, knowing John and… Dulé: I love that.
It is truly magnificent.
Well, congratulations on your first art show.
Dulé: After doing the workshop today gives me that much more appreciation of the work that you do, though, because that’s–when I look at some of your work and I even spend a little bit of time going through this process, it’s like, it’s brilliant what you are doing.
[Dog barking] Actor, as student: Undocumented, unafraid, undocumented, unashamed.
The power of the word.
Ain’t no power like the power of the people ’cause the power of the people don’t stop.
Now I’m sitting in this classroom having this Socratic dialog about how immigrants are the devil.
Race discrimination doesn’t happen.
What, are you going to say something in a room full of white people?
These people just think we’re mowing their yards, but we’re also sitting next to you in class.
Then I remembered, I’m undocumented.
[Applause] David: All right.
Nice.
Dulé: Oh, yeah.
Oh, yeah.
David: Hey.
Dulé: What’s happening?
What’s happening?
David: Dulé!
Great to see you.
Dulé: Good to see you.
Hello.
Liz: Hi.
Liz.
Great to meet you, Mr. Hill.
Dulé: Liz, how you doing?
Dulé.
Very nice to meet you.
Wait.
Let me come around real quick.
You don’t ever have to twist an actor’s arm to get on a stage.
[Laughter] So tell me about what you’re working on here.
Liz: It’s a monologue, essentially, that’s kind of autobiographical and kind of a summation of my time in the immigrant rights movement, when I married my art with my activism.
I grew up in Ciudad Juarez, Chihuahua, which is right across the border from El Paso.
So I had family on either side of the border.
And in 2000, we moved to Dallas, the Bachman Lake neighborhood, which is a predominantly immigrant neighborhood to this day.
I was about 6 years old.
My parents came to this country to give us a shot at achieving the American dream.
Dulé: What was that moment like when you realized that you were undocumented?
Liz: So I grew up in a community of immigrants.
Most of the time, I didn’t really think about it.
It wasn’t really until I got to high school, and we started talking about college.
I get to the counselor’s office, and I’m signing the form, and it’s like, “Fill out this 9-digit space for your Social Security number.”
And I’m like, “Oh, that’s right, I don’t have that.”
What does this mean, right?
Does this mean that I don’t get to live out my dream?
David: I met Liz when we were going to create a new play about the experiences of who we call the DREAMers– undocumented youth who are given temporary possibility of staying here without deportation.
So every year, they have to renew their DACA permit.
And Liz is a DACA recipient.
And so the next play that we wanted to create was “Deferred Action.”
We were showing the conundrum that DREAMers experience during presidential elections.
Because these young people with DACA, they need a path to citizenship so that they’re not living in uncertainty, because if it’s pulled away, then they go into the shadows.
So let’s go ahead, and just remember, since you have these stylized movements at the beginning, it’s really important that your transitions into them are part of the performance and that we’re not seeing you mark them.
Liz: We have to keep the secret.
Tenemos que guardar el secreto.
Not just for you but for the family.
Para el bien de toda la famila.
We’re illegal, but no one can know.
Somos ilegales, pero nadie puede enterarse.
Why should we be afraid?
We can’t be afraid.
We have to change what their image of an immigrant is.
How can you have peace if you have no justice?
Undocumented, unafraid!
Undocumented, unashamed!
David: Any notes, maestro?
Dulé: When you say.
“Undocumented, unafraid,” are you unafraid?
Because it’s one thing to be “I’m not afraid.”
It’s another thing to know that “I am afraid, but I’m willing myself forward.”
That’s two different things.
Liz: Right… Dulé: Same words, two different things.
Are you encouraging yourself when you say, “Undocumented.
I’m unafraid.
Undocumented.
I’m unafraid.
Undocumented, I’m unafraid.
Undocumented.”
And what is the final line you say?
Liz: I am home.
[Dulé taps stage] Dulé: I am home.
David: Mm-hmm.
Liz: Yeah.
Dulé: And let it sit.
“Because I’m telling you, I am home.
This is my home.”
Dulé, voice-over: I feel that theater is a pillar of democracy, because it can’t help but fire people up to be engaged in the process and engaged in the world around them.
The more you have that, the better our communities will be.
Liz: We’re carrying lots of secrets.
Cargamos con muchos secretos.
Why should we be afraid?
We can’t be afraid.
We have to change what their image of an immigrant is.
Liz, voice-over: Cara Mía plays such a big role in terms of my artistic journey.
I have learned it’s most powerful when we are the ones who tell our own stories, when we’re at the helm.
I am home.
♪ Dulé: Tonight is a big night for John– the kickoff gallery party unveiling the work of artists with disabilities from all across the country.
[Cheering and applause] Dulé: I’m sure you all came here to see Eagle at the Yellow Dog.
John: Let me get up here real quick.
Dulé: All right.
John: Everybody, I want to thank you from the very bottom of my heart for being here.
It’s Disability Pride Month, and this is a Disability Pride art show.
All the artwork on the walls is done by people with disabilities and local artists and artists from around the nation.
And Dulé is here to help us kick this off.
And that’s so amazing.
That’s so brilliant.
I have one more painting that I want to show you, Dulé, that I’ve been working on.
Dulé: Hey!
Hey!
Ha ha!
[Cheering and applause] Hey!
Heh!
Oh, wow.
That is magnificent.
I’m really in awe of you, I’m in awe of your talent, in awe of how you can make me look so good.
Ha ha!
[Laughter] And I’m just really, really honored to be here and to be in your presence, in your space.
John: Thank you so much.
Dulé: Oh, yeah.
My pleasure, man.
That is lovely.
I want to take a look at it.
Yeah.
Dulé, voice-over: I think what surprised me the most about John is his joy, really.
He talks about how he was so depressed years ago, when he was losing his sight.
It really is inspiring to see John move throughout this world.
♪ Right now I’m off to Rainflowa’s family compound.
It’s about an hour north of Houston in an area called Willis.
And we’re getting ready to do a sweat lodge.
The experience has been enlightening for me, and I know that this will be another step in that enlightenment.
♪ Good afternoon, man.
How’s everything?
Man: Doing all right.
Dulé: All right.
Man: Doing OK?
Dulé: Yeah.
Well… Man: Blessings.
Dulé: Yeah.
Blessings to you, brother.
Yes.
And is it inside here that the sweat will be?
Mauricio Turrubiartes: Yeah.
This is where we will sit.
Dulé: And what’s that over there?
Mauricio: That’s our fireplace, where we heat a rock.
Pour water over the rocks.
It’ll generate the steam.
It opens the portal for us to be able to communicate with our ancestors.
Estevan Alvez: So I’m gonna let you pick up this tobacco.
Break it up in your hand.
Dulé: Mm-hmm.
Estevan: That’s your offering.
Abuela M’api, voice-over: We’re here to teach people.
We’re here to show you what it is that we do.
In 2014, we formed Calmecac Indigenous Organization, the school of resurrecting Mother Earth.
This is a place where you’re going to come and you’re going to learn to connect, and you’re going to get with your roots, starting with the Danza and then leading into other forms of ceremony.
Dulé: In the stones are the grandfather spirits.
Mauricio: We call it grandfather to personify it a little bit more, because, obviously, you’re going to respect your grandfather, you’re going to respect your grandmother, right?
Dulé: Right.
Abuela M’api, voice-over: Even in these modern times, we’re still fighting to just show our presence.
October 12, 2020, was declared the first Indigenous Peoples’ Day in our city, and it was a 7-year fight.
[Protestors chanting indistinctly] Abuela M’api: We wanted the day to be recognized for the public to see that date instead of Columbus Day.
My family brought 12 elders from different tribes together, and we organized the first peaceful walks around the removal of the Columbus statue.
Reporter: For local Native Americans, this statue was a symbol of genocide, a hurtful reminder of their past.
Abuela M’api: We had to bring people together, and it was a lot of work.
So finally, on that day, we were able to receive the proclamation.
Sylvester Turner: …hereby proudly proclaim this date, October 12, 2020, as Indigenous Peoples’ Day in the City of Houston.
Abuela M’api: As long as our children and our grandchildren, our future generations know who they are and where they came from, that’s what’s most important.
[Cheering and applause] We live in a society that wants to act like we don’t exist, call us all Latinx or Hispanic.
That’s part of culture erasure.
So we have to participate in the system to whatever capacity to keep our presence here.
When I go outside and pray with a handful of tobacco and the wind spins around me, I know that our ancestors are listening.
Ximena: Today I am going to experience my first temazcal.
This is something I’ve been waiting for, so I’m pretty excited.
Abuela M’api: Put tobacco in our fireplace now, say your intentions.
Abuela M’api, voice-over: I honestly never wanted to guide anyone.
It just started happening because people were drawn to what we were doing.
There are so few of us doing it.
We decided to build the sweat lodge in our backyard.
We opened it to the people, and we just kept going.
We’re gonna ask the women to go ahead and line up, and we can go ahead and get in, because the rocks are definitely hot and ready.
Now the men can line up.
You’re gonna see this is a really old peyote, so just bless yourself with it, like this.
It’s your mind, your body, your heart, your spirit.
You get on–your knees and you say… [Speaking Nahuatl] [Dulé repeats Nahuatl phrase] Abuela M’api: So then you crawl in and stay on the left side.
That’s the men’s side.
You crawl like a baby on all fours.
Every time you go into a ceremonial space, it’s fearful.
First couple of times when you see it, there’s a glow coming out of it from the fire, and you see the shadows of the people sitting around in a circle.
They use a water drum.
It has a tone that’s like [In low pitch] “Dum dum dum dum dum dum dum.”
So it’s already kind of affecting your chakras, and you don’t really know what’s going on, and then get into that space of communion and spirit with everyone.
And then you learn the songs yourself.
[Person chanting in Nahuatl] Abuela M’api: Then you understand a little more, a little more each time.
[All chanting] ♪ Ximena: You know, Abuela says that when you really get into it after more rounds and you keep going, the longer you stay in, the ancestors will get your attention by touching you.
Dulé: There was a time where I felt the ground rumbling, and I was like, “Am I losing my mind here?”
Dulé: Oh, yeah.
Abuela M’api, voice-over: I believe that the work that I’m leading and the work that we are all collectively doing is helping to lift the vibration of Mother Earth.
And so I have a responsibility now to lead.
That’s something I’m doing innately to teach other people to be leaders.
Dulé: Rainflowa is a guide for others.
She has done the work and educated herself, and she is now able to be a light for those who are in search of a pathway from their trauma into a place of peace and of growth.
♪ I’ve learned about true leadership.
You have to dig deep, face your own vulnerability, and then have the fortitude to share that hard-fought wisdom with others.
But it’s worth it.
I always say that life is not a marathon or a sprint, it’s a relay.
When you are running your leg of the race, at some point you have to hand the baton off.
And that’s why it’s important to be a guide, and that’s why it’s important to be a light.
And anytime you walk through any door, any space, you have to make sure that the door stays open for somebody coming after you.
That’s the only way that we can move the ball forward.
That’s the only way we can climb the mountain, is if we are showing the pathway for others coming behind us.
Abuela M’api: Do you want to learn anymore or is that enough?
-One more.
-One more.
Abuela M’api: Ready?
Go.
♪ And we go, “Whoo!”
Criss cross.
Go.
♪ Pick up your leg and twirl.
♪ Squat.
♪ All right.
Good job.
Whoo!
