“Alma’s Way”: A Commitment to Latinx Representation On Screen and Behind the Scenes

When Alma’s Way premiered on PBS in October 2021, children across the United States were introduced to the Riveras—a multi-generational, multi-racial Puerto Rican family living in the present-day Bronx. Such was the vision of the team at Fred Rogers Productions and series creator and executive producer Sonia Manzano, who based the initial concept of the show on her own Nuyorican upbringing and the refuge she found in her childhood imagination. 

Building upon Manzano’s trailblazing and critically acclaimed work on Sesame Street, Alma’s Way is noteworthy for the abundance of Latinx talent working as cast and crew—from casting directors to voiceover actors to musicians to scriptwriters, and so on. The end result is a radical departure from the well-documented dearth of Latinx representation within the film and television industry, as well as a timely antidote to the persistent stereotypical and problematic portrayals of the Latinx community. 

In Alma’s Way, we see diverse skin tones and body shapes, the textured and vibrant Bronx cityscape, streets bustling with passersby and an eclectic soundtrack to match. We hear different accents and meet characters whose backgrounds are rooted in the expansive and diverse experiences of their creators. This is what an investment in true representation looks like—a culture of inclusion integrated into all facets of production, rather than a vaguely articulated aspiration. 

Inside the Writer’s Room

Writing, in Manzano’s view, is the most essential component to the representation and authenticity of Alma’s Way. She learned to appreciate this during her time on Sesame Street. “[Writing] is where the power lies,” she says. Sesame Street, however, is a fictional place; the Bronx is not. This was an important distinction for head writer Jorge Aguirre. “Once you make the decision that this is going to take place in a real place,” he says, “then that informs every other decision after that.” The Bronx, therefore, had to be more culturally diverse than it was during Manzano’s childhood, while incorporating signature elements, like the corner bodega and the elevated 6 train line that runs through Alma’s neighborhood.  

“In my experience, this has been the most diverse set of writers that I've had the pleasure to work with,” says Aguirre. This includes over a dozen writers with varying racial, cultural, and professional backgrounds, including several culled from the Sesame Street Writers’ Room, a fellowship program which aims to develop underrepresented voices in children’s television. Aguirre expresses gratitude for the additional time he was allowed during the recruitment process. “It takes a little bit of extra effort or consciousness in order to be able to expand your roster of writers,” he says. 

According to Manzano, Alma’s Way was originally called Alma’s Mind—an explicit reference to the central premise of the show. “Sonia wanted to teach kids that they had a mind and that they could use it,” explains Aguirre. As such, Alma can often be seen carefully thinking through possible solutions to whatever hardship she encounters. “Every show, every episode that you've ever watched on TV,” says Aguirre, “has a moment where a character is doing critical thinking, but they don't take that moment and expand it—that’s what we do.” 

Still, audiences struggle to not reduce the content of a show like Alma’s Way to its cultural elements. “It's interesting to me that many people have just assumed that the show is about culture,” says Manzano. “There's a knee jerk assumption that because there are Latin people on a show, it must be teaching culture.” Aguirre echoes this sentiment, adding: “We're not teaching culture; we're not teaching Spanish; we're not doing anything like that; we're trying to talk about a real family who is Latino and lives in the Bronx.” 

Differences among Latino subgroups, for example, are often expressed conversationally, such as when Alma says “qué chévere” to the bewilderment of her new Mexican-American friend, who replies that her family would say “qué padre.” Similarly, when a typical Puerto Rican dish like mofongo is prepared by Alma’s mother, the ingredients are mentioned in passing to provide viewers with minimal context. Aguirre believes kids of all backgrounds will connect more with the universal aspects of Alma’s dilemma in the episode rather than dwell on the cultural specificity. 

Authenticity is an important element to the storytelling in Alma’s Way. So much so that Aguirre relies on a network of friends and colleagues for specific feedback. “There's a lot I can do as a writer, but there are things you just don't know if it's not your own experience,” says Aguirre. “What you do is seek out people who know that world or know that experience, and they guide you.” For example, to ensure he captured the specificity of a beloved summer pastime in New York City’s Latino enclaves, he reached out to a member of the Bronx Emperors stickball team to consult on draft revisions. “It was great to have somebody who actually plays stickball, actually from the Bronx, giving me advice,” says Aguirre. In general, advisors played an important and engaged role throughout the production. From the design of palm trees in Loíza, Puerto Rico and the coqui frog to the mobility of a character with cerebral palsy, advisors are essential to the authenticity and representation of Alma’s Way. “I don’t want it to be kind of right, I want it to be right,” says executive producer Ellen Doherty. 

For Aguirre, who was raised in Columbus, Ohio by Colombian parents, the show also provided an opportunity to incorporate his own experiences. He specifically recalls the confusion he felt while attending a party where someone called him ‘tocayo,’ a word in Spanish for namesake. Unaware of its meaning, Jorge would later translate experience into an amusing plot point and one of Aguirre’s favorite moments from the first season of Alma’s Way:

“We have an episode in which Alma goes and meets her great grandmother and I decided that her name would also be Alma and that we would do this whole thing about tocayo where the great grandmother keeps calling Alma mi tocaya, and Alma is like, ‘Doesn't she know my name?’”

Open Call: Reaching for the Talent 

As casting director for the New York City-based cast of Alma’s Way, Elaine Del Valle is not shy about touting her experience, particularly as someone ingrained in the scene of New York Latino actors. “Listen to me, I'm a New York Puerto Rican born and bred,” she says. “I'm so passionate about authenticity when it comes to representation, both in front of and behind the camera, or in this case, with voices as well.” As an actress herself, she is also well aware of the limited opportunities for Latinxs in the entertainment business. So when it was time to put the word out, Del Valle felt she understood the assignment better than most. “I've never been so excited about something as a casting director—to be a part of getting it right.” 

Joining the production in January 2020, Del Valle’s casting was almost upended by the outbreak of the COVID-19 pandemic. However, she encouraged virtual auditions to be held, providing guidance to candidates throughout the process. “I just wanted to give people the tools that they needed to feel comfortable and demystify this process,” says Del Valle. This included tips for virtual callback auditions on how to prepare lighting, location, and sound. “I even went so far as to invite people who have never done it before to understand that the potential exists,” adds Del Valle.  

She circulated the casting call widely through traditional means, but also reached out to her community directly through her social media channels. She wanted to make the effort to find the best actor for each role, otherwise, as Del Valle explains, the role would have had to be rewritten. “If we couldn't find something specific, we would change it to reflect the actors so that the integrity of authenticity remained.” Still, the casting call did not always reach the kinds of actors that Del Valle had in mind. “Case in point, Broadway singer Danny Bolero was not even submitted on this project,” says Del Valle. So she invited him to read, which he did, ultimately landing the role of Abuelo. 

The casting of Sharon Montero in the role of Tía Gloria is another example of effective social media outreach. “I was so excited when I heard her voice,” recalls Del Valle. “Because the texture of it was so special, her personality just flows through her voice.” Montero, however, was unfamiliar to Del Valle before auditioning, despite being an experienced radio personality. Del Valle therefore sees the lack of opportunity for Latinx talent as systemic, with agents and managers not always aware of what could translate into success for their clients:

“There are some wonderful agents and managers who represent very talented actors. But a lot of the time, they're also very talented actors who go unrepresented. For whatever reason, especially in the Latino market, some agents and managers feel like, ‘Okay, well, I already represent the 45-year-old Latina woman who speaks Spanish. I don't need another one.’”

Mutual trust was another essential factor for Del Valle in the casting process, especially with a young lead in the role of six-year-old Alma. “It’s really important when you're putting your children into the market, because so many people out there are not legitimate, and so the market knowing me as well as I knew them, was very important to the whole cause and getting people who aren't normally used to auditioning, especially kids.” Social media outreach would lead Del Valle to Summer Rose Castillo, the voice of Alma Rivera and daughter of actress April Hernández. “The minute that I met Summer, I just knew how special this child is,” says Del Valle. She even rapped during her audition, says Del Valle, which would later be incorporated into the opening theme song of Alma’s Way, written by Lin-Manuel Miranda. 

Immersive Soundscapes 

Fabiola Mendez says that Manzano wanted the music of Alma’s Way to be “as authentic as possible,” which is why she was contacted by Canadian composers Asher Lenz and Stephen Skratt. Mendez is a renowned Puerto Rican musician and the first Berkeley College of Music graduate to specialize in the Puerto Rican cuatro. “They reached out to me by email and at first I thought, ‘Is this like a scam?’” laughs Mendez. But it wasn’t. Soon, she was collaborating with Lenz and Skratt on the musical score for Alma’s Way, while simultaneously learning how music translated into images. “They were like, just play something over this, whatever feels right,” says Mendez. On one occasion, Mendez was inspired to briefly quote the melody of the classic tune “En mi Viejo San Juan” for a scene in which Abuelo recalls the nostalgia of his youth in Puerto Rico. “As a Puerto Rican, I try to think about songs that are part of our culture, but that can be modified,” says Mendez. Written by Puerto Rican composer Noel Estrada in 1942, the song is one of several unofficial anthems that relate the experience of Puerto Ricans who have left the island, Mendez included: 

“Through my experience being part of the diaspora, I really wanted to honor the contributions of the people that live here [in the United States]...So the fact that this was a show about a Puerto Rican family from the Bronx really hit home for me because even though I was born and raised on the island, I moved here just a couple years ago and really respect the struggle and the nostalgia.”

Overall, the music for Alma’s Way is a blend of broadly Caribbean, New York, and Latin influences, often with specific Puerto Rican references. “We use a lot of congas, different horn instruments, güiro sounds, and a lot of Caribbean percussion,” explains Mendez. The cuatro, which is particularly synonymous with Puerto Rico, also appears in the show, most notably in the opening credits, where a character based on Mendez carries a cuatro. “I just feel so grateful that the music of the show has those sounds of Puerto Rico and that any Puerto Rican from any part of the world will hear the cuatro and be like, ‘Oh my God, that's Puerto Rico!’” 

Mendez’s experience working on the show also reflects the ability to work together to find solutions where cultural sensitivity is concerned. In the lyrics for one of the songs written for Alma’s Way, Mendez says she included the Spanish word ‘mulata,’ which does not necessarily carry the same derogatory connotation that it does in North American English. ‘Mulata’ was eventually replaced with ‘morena’ after Manzano reached out with concerns: “I said, ‘Look, this might be a problem. I mean, it's not a problem for me—we Puerto Ricans talk about being morena and mulata all the time.” Initially, it was difficult for Mendez to separate her personal experience from the feedback she had received: “As a Black woman, I use that word with so much pride, and especially in our African music, bomba, those types of words are used a lot.” In the U.S. context, however, mulatto is perceived as an outdated way of referring to someone of mixed European and African ancestry. “I felt very comfortable with the way that they handled it and how they were very respectful about my identity and my process,” says Mendez. Manzano, in turn, acknowledges the heightened scrutiny around language, but felt it was important to retain the essence of the original composition, which in her words, Mendez "accomplished beautifully."

In addition to the musical responsibilities, Mendez was invited to join casting auditions for Puerto Rican characters and provided script feedback on some of the episodes set in Puerto Rico for an upcoming special in which Alma and her family travel to Loíza, Puerto Rico, a place that connects the character not only to her father’s family but to a legacy of resistance and pride in the African ancestry of the island, which Mendez shares. “It made me feel represented, like I have a voice that's actually heard, not just to put a checkmark on the diversity box,” says Mendez.

Embracing the Fluidity of Language

When addressing the use of Spanish on Alma’s Way, Manzano recalls how she would introduce Spanglish words like ‘lunchar’ on Sesame Street. This was later criticized by one of her colleagues, the late Puerto Rican actor Raúl Julia, who did not consider words like ‘lunchar’ to be correct Spanish. “I said, ‘Of course they are, my mother uses those words all the time,’” says Manzano with a laugh. The experience led her to realize “that language changes and becomes fluid to express what the people are going through.” 

However, Manzano ultimately concluded that Spanglish may not necessarily reflect the lived experience of other Spanish-speaking families throughout the US. “I decided that for an educational show, you should use Spanish words,” explains Manzano. 

Alma’s Way also provides an intergenerational perspective on Spanish-language usage in the household. “Some people speak more Spanish than others and I'm very pleased that we're not shying away from that,” explained Manzano. But that’s not what the show is about, she adds. “Maybe a parent will watch and say, ‘I think I'll teach my kids Spanish because I can see in Alma's Way that not everybody speaks Spanish,’ or they'll say, ‘I don't care, they can speak English’…But what's important to me is to be truthful.” 

Alma’s Way is also available as a second audio program (SAP). The approach to the Spanish-language version was unique, according to Carol Colmenares of Timeline Digital, which was responsible for this aspect of the production. Usually, dubbing takes place after the fact, with the voiceover cast working on a batch of episodes only after the English-language production wraps. In this case, it was decided that the Spanish-language production would take place almost simultaneously—“with  all the stress of getting the production done at the same time that the English product is coming out,” says Colmenares. Next, casting took place according to the target audience: U.S. Hispanics. This, in turn, dictated specific criteria such as hiring native Spanish speakers with dubbing experience. “We had to cast actors who had some experience with dubbing, which is not the same as acting,” explains Colmenares. The cast also had to reflect a diversity of accents and nationalities, as well as age-appropriate casting for children’s roles. “We did go out of our way to try and find the right accent, the right performer, the right person for each role.” 

Scripts and songs were then translated—a rigorous process that must cater to a heterogeneous audience of Spanish speakers in the United States. “Even though this is a Puerto Rican family, we know that the show is being watched by a wide network of Spanish speaking families that could come from anywhere—so we try to strike that balance between something that is going to be very local, and something that is going to be understood by everyone,” says Colmenares. 

Some words, for example, were left in English to reflect the reality of bilingual American households, especially when an English word lacked a direct translation. “And if we're unsure about a saying or an idiom that's going to be understood both here in the United States and in Latin America, then we do our research,” says Colmenares. 

Script translations were also revised by Puerto Rican dramaturgist Roberto Alexander Perez. “He enriches [the script] with more authentic Puerto Rican expressions,” says Colmenares. Rocío Almanza Guillén of Fred Rogers Productions also worked with Colmenares in looking over the revised scripts. “I really love that it is a very collaborative project; we get input from many sources.”

Creating Alma’s World 

“I'm thrilled that so many people behind the scenes are Latin,” says Manzano. “We were on the same page a lot and it's relieving when you don't have to explain everything to somebody every second.” 

As a result, the world of Alma’s Way is organic. It exists on screen and very much in the real world. “What we're showing on the show is also happening behind the scenes,” adds Mendez. This resonates with viewers like Amber Goodman, a 26-year-old first generation Bajan American with a BFA in Illustration from St. John’s University. “This is the New York I knew as a kid,” she says. “Everyone looks like someone I know or have seen—this speaks to me as a very dark Caribbean American woman; it’s not a world where we don’t exist.”


Neyda Martinez Sierra, an associate professor in The New School’s Department of Media Management, is producer of the documentary films LUCKY and Decade of Fire.  

Néstor David Pastor is a writer, editor, and translator from Queens, NY. He is the founding editor of Intervenxions, a Latinx arts and culture publication of the Latinx Project at NYU, and Huellas, a bilingual magazine featuring long-form writing by emerging Latin American and Latine writers. His past editorial work includes the award-winning NACLA Report on the Americas, a print magazine by the North American Congress on Latin America (NACLA), and CENTRO Voices, a digital publication of the Center for Puerto Rican Studies at Hunter College. He is the editor of Latinx Politics–Resistance, Disruption, and Power (2020), Intervenxions Vol. 1 (2022) and Intervenxions Vol. 2 (2023). In 2022, he was the recipient of the Queens Arts Fund ‘New Work’ grant. Most recently, he was selected to participate in the 2023 NALAC Leadership Institute. An essay on Cayman Gallery and the Museum of Contemporary Hispanic Art is forthcoming in Nuyorican Art: A Critical Anthology (Duke University Press, 2024). To see his full portfolio and current projects, visit: www.ndpastor.com 

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