Op Ed by Director Frank Aragon
The Directors Guild of America is both a craft union and a Guild that protects the creative and economic rights of film, TV, commercial, and new media directors and their teams. It is the most powerful and richest union in the United States. Its membership is 71% white males. As a Mexican-American director member, I’d like to talk about my complex relationship with one of most prestigious organizations in Hollywood.
I was a sensitive 7-year-old boy who was deeply affected by the movies I saw. My home was broken. My mom and dad split up when I was a young kid, but I have vivid memories of them together. I clearly also recall their divorce and many influences that shaped my life after that. The movies played a big role in molding me. I got lost in the films. Cinema was in my soul. I fantasized of becoming an actor and film director someday.
My family lived in Boyle Heights. My dad was a contractor and my mom was a teacher’s aide at LAUSD. My dad made decent money. We went places. Disneyland, Knotts Berry Farm, Magic Mountain were common visits for us. We spent a lot of time all over LA, from Malibu to East LA, visiting the very best of our favorite restaurants — The Velvet Turtle, Barragan’s, The Pantry, Philippe’s and Little Joes in Chinatown. Surf and turf were my fancy; it still is today. My parents taught me confidence. I belonged anywhere I chose to belong. I could become anything if I worked hard enough. This is how I grew up. “Positivity,” “equality,”“confidence” were the words that guided me — they still do today.
I got hooked on drama class in the eighth grade. By ninth grade I was pursuing my acting career. At 19 I was in a play, Caught in the Middle With No Way Out, at the Harold Clurman Theatre off Broadway in New York. By 21, I was a star in Angeltown alongside actress Theresa Saldana. By 27, I wrote, produced, directed and starred in my first film, My Father’s Love. I believed in myself. Opportunities were as much mine as they were anyone’s. I didn’t know anything different.
However, for the first time in my life I have come to question my belief in inherent equal opportunities. After I became a member of the Directors Guild of America, I began to question whether this is a room I belonged in, whether or not I truly stood side by side with fellow members.
The Directors Guild of America, or the DGA as it is commonly known, is a guild for the biggest and most talented directors in the world — film and TV’s very best. In my opinion, you don’t win an Oscar without first winning a DGA award. In 2013 my dream came true; I became a member after years of hard work paying my dues. After having had one of my films, Down for Life, accepted into Sundance and world premiered at Toronto in 2009; after winning the Golden Eagle award in 2001 from Nosotros for “Outstanding Independent Filmmaker” for feature My Fathers Love; after multiple film festival wins; after being hired to direct 2nd unit on a feature film (which was signatory to the DGA), I was finally eligible.
I didn’t hesitate to submit my request for consideration to join. It wasn’t easy. In addition to my work, I needed three endorsements from other directors who were current union members. That took time. But I eventually got it done. I’m still extremely grateful to those who finally signed my endorsement. Thank you to the lone three who supported me.
One of the most momentous days of my life was the day I received my package in the mail from the DGA. I was accepted! Now I just had to raise the money to join. I could make payments. Great. That was awesome. It was happening! I was now a member of a group composed of the creative greats that I had admired all my life. Like all the great directors, I would now have a spotlight to show my work. I was surely going to meet studio heads and showrunners. I was going to meet executives. I was surely going to work on big studio lots as a director, not a PA, not a grip, not a tour guide.
I wholeheartedly believed I arrived until the reality of being a Latino in the Directors Guild of America set in. I enthusiastically attended all the meetings I could. First perk, they feed you at every meeting. Second perk, I was invited to watch the latest movies. I was beyond excited to meet and see the work of my fellow directors. On occasion, some of the screenings were followed by a Q and A with the director. This was the biggest thrill — Steven Spielberg, Martin Scorsese, Robert Zemeckis, Bradley Cooper! I could listen and learn from the best.
However, something was missing. I didn’t hear or see many movies from anyone who looked like me or had a diverse cultural perspective. I quickly noticed the token diversity when I walked in the rooms and attended events. It is, for the most part, white males, perhaps a couple of Blacks, one or two Asians; I rarely noted anyone who looked like me — Latino.
My ego got the best of me. I was a rare sight at the DGA because I was different. I initially rationalized it by telling myself, perhaps I worked harder than other Latinos. I broke barriers and got myself into the rooms that many Latinos hadn’t yet. So I was going to make myself known. I would also crack the door open for other Latinos who need a little support. Being the proud confident kid from Boyle Heights, was resilient and determined. I was ambitious, full of hope.
I emailed my hero directors. I asked to shadow. I asked to be mentored. I was ignored. Emails went unanswered. I requested guidance from the DGA executives, board members, western director council members. How do I join these studio programs for directors that are in collaboration with the DGA? A white woman, one of the people composing the diversity task force suggested, “Go be a production assistant at Warner Brothers. Go make a short film.” What? Really?
I didn’t understand that because I had years of hard work, and had accomplished so much already. I’m a DGA member. I am an award winner. I’ve made full-length feature films. Did she really believe I should devote more time being a production assistant?
DGA life was becoming quite clear. The DGA executives weren’t concerned with how I got there. Who the hell was I anyway? I had no ties to greatness. I had no uncle who was a studio director. I had no well-known industry friends. Therefore, all I was offered was talk, talk, talk. I was offered, I’m sorry to say, BS programs that I see as more effective to filter out my color. If I didn’t work within a couple of years in a studio or TV show, I could not even advance within the guild to run for Co-Chair of the Latino Committee. I wasn’t eligible. This was the real DGA. No one cares about our stories, not the brown ones, not the Black ones, not the Asian ones, not even women get a fair shake. Statistics continue to show very little has changed.
I approached my first shadow assignment enthusiastically and optimistically. A “shadow” is where you follow around a TV director on an episodic TV show to learn from them, hopefully make an impression with the showrunner, and hopefully land a directing job down the road.
This was my honest impression: Day 1 on a DGA sanctioned show, the executive producer was DGA, but I prefer not to identify the show. As I slowly walked up closer to the monitor to see how the director was setting up the shot, I overheard a white gaffer quietly speaking to the first AD, “Every week we have another Mexican.” It was not meant for me to hear. I felt awkward to say the least.
I began to notice uneasy glances and strained smiles. What was I doing there? The craft service people and security guards were the ones I sat with to eat. They were Latino and they were very welcoming towards me. Was this the level I had achieved? Was I really seeing prejudice because I looked different from those around me?
The motion picture studios send their VPs and executives to speak at the DGA membership. These are the so-called diversity events. The panelists don’t know us. Aside from valet parking attendants and the cooks in the kitchen, many in the film industry from the west side of town, including executives at the DGA, seem to have a limited understanding of Latinos. I was literally handed the keys to a car at the DGA parking garage. The gentleman was embarrassed when he realized I was a member and not his valet. This lack of understanding is reflected in the way I’ve been treated.
What I want from the DGA is an honest discussion.
Past Presidents have all told me things are going to get better. Well they haven’t. I’m not calling anyone out. These men are friendly, caring and supportive leaders. But that’s not enough. I believe there is, like in many organizations in our country, institutional and systemic racism in the DGA. All we have to do is look at the statistics. Many top DGA members have gone on to become producing directors, showrunners, and executive producers on film and TV shows that have horrible track records when it comes to hiring people of color. Statistics don’t lie.
But there is an obvious and urgent need to speak out, so I’m taking a chance. I have questions for the DGA. How many Latino directors have been hired from participating in their diversity initiatives? There are almost 60 million Hispanics in the United States. Does the Hollywood DGA elite recognize that working Latino directors are less than 3% in mainstream movies and television? Perhaps I’ll be further alienated just for asking these questions.
Is the DGA willing to set effective programs that will give diverse members a fair shot? Does the DGA sincerely want to offer equal opportunities to people of color? What true success has come from the diversity committees set up by the DGA? If these committees were effective at what they were formed to accomplish, at some point wouldn’t there be no need for these committees?
The protests across the United States are an indication that American people value diversity. This movement is also supported around the world as we watch the Black Lives Matter movement resonate around the world.
The movie industry touches hearts and minds globally. The DGA can choose to welcome and celebrate the various colors, cultures, and genders which are more reflective of our country. We could use the collective bargaining agreement we sign every couple of years with major motion picture studios to bring real change and opportunity to all people of color.
DGA members of color have worked hard to become members. We earned our right at a fair chance.
There has never been a better time to bring our the hard-uncomfortable truths to light. My story is just one of dozens that should be heard. My work so far hasn’t stemmed from any DGA programs, it’s been coming from relentless persistence and belief in myself. Regardless of how difficult it has been, I have no doubt I belong in the room. I have hope. I still believe what my parents instilled in me — I can do anything and I belong anywhere.
We are equal. It’s long overdue. It’s time for true real change!