I am an independent filmmaker, a writer-director, African American, and a woman. This combination confuses some people; it makes no sense to them because most directors are white guys. Granted, I selected a profession that relegates me to invisibility, but what’s interesting is the day-to-day reality of this. Working with new production crews means being asked if I’m a PA or in craft services. While blocking action or chatting with talent, I’ve had people ask me who’s directing. I’ve heard, “…it’s her? No way…” countless times. Deciding how to deal with this has been challenging. The first few years of my career, I felt offended and compelled to speak upon it, to right a wrong. All that got me was being unfairly accused by some of playing the race card — and we all know that the dreaded race card=you in trouble. Most times, I put those six words on ignore. I know they reflect where we need to grow as a society. Once while directing children actors on an educational industrial, I overheard them talking about me, about being a black woman director, about whether it even matters, and that’s when I realized the part I play in this, that the joy of directing, of visual storytelling, and of challenging societal conventions in front of and behind the camera is worth enduring my race card.