I arrived in the States when I was just a little kid, only 2 years old, after my parents made the tough decision to leave Nicaragua. Back then, Nicaragua was just emerging from a civil war, caught in a struggle between a dictatorship and the group that called themselves the Sandinistas. The Sandinistas managed to overthrow the government, but soon they started pressuring young Nicaraguan men to join the army.
My dad wanted something better for our family, so he and my mom decided to flee. We settled in Miami, in a vibrant neighborhood called Little Havana, where the majority of folks were just like us: Latino and fresh off the boat. The culture was rich, filled with the lively spices of our food, the rhythms of our music, and the joy of our dances. Growing up in Little Havana felt like living in our own little world, a true Latino hub.
Now, growing up in Miami in the ’90s had its challenges. Drugs and gangs were everywhere, and for a young guy like me, it was a constant battle to fit in at school while trying to stay out of trouble. It was especially tough being an immigrant, trying to adapt to a culture that wasn’t mine. I was just learning to speak fluent English when I started elementary school, and by middle school, I had my share of bullying. People would make fun of my accent, my clothes, and even how I looked. Miami was a place where fighting for relevance felt like the norm. Even though Miami has been a haven for Latin American immigrants since the ’60s, many of us didn’t feel welcomed. Eventually, the bullying pushed me to take self-defense classes. Before I knew it, I was fighting back, and things quickly escalated into something much darker.
With gangs taking over the streets, conflicts in schools often ended in street fights. It was brutal and violent, and long before the tales of the cocaine cowboys hit the scene, young Latino boys were already caught up in gang fights that sometimes had deadly outcomes. But that was the reality; if you wanted to stand up for yourself, words just wouldn’t cut it. The kids in your neighborhood became your family, and your family became your gang. Just like any family, we looked out for one another. If that meant throwing down, then that’s what we did.
This backdrop inspired my upcoming film, Young Kingdom, set to premiere in 2025.
It follows the story of Andres, a young Latino teenager in Miami who suddenly finds himself leading his gang while caring for his sick mother and trying to keep his younger brother away from the dangers of street life. Andres is a skilled fighter, taking down rivals in street brawls, making him a force to be reckoned with. When he learns that his mother needs life-saving surgery that the insurance won’t cover, he decides to steal drugs from a ruthless Mexican gang to get the money. But this choice leads to consequences he never saw coming. At the heart of the film is the theme of family. For Andres, taking care of his mother means providing for them financially, and as a brother to young Santi, it means shielding him from the violence while teaching him about bravery. For his gang, it means navigating a maze of challenges to ensure they remain strong and united.
With Young Kingdom, I aim to tell an authentic Miami story, filled with real characters and themes that resonate with our city. Creating films in Miami has always been a struggle, largely because the financial support for filmmakers here is nearly nonexistent. There are no major studios or writing rooms, which means big deals often happen elsewhere. Los Angeles has long been the filmmaking capital, but even they’re losing projects to states with better incentives, like Georgia, New York, and Texas. Florida has often played second fiddle, and it shows in the number of movies set in Miami but filmed in other states.
This isn’t due to a lack of talent or compelling stories—some of the freshest filmmakers are emerging from Miami and gaining international recognition, like Barry Jenkins, the Oscar-winning director of Moonlight, and Phil Lord, who won an Oscar for his work on the Sony animated Spider-Man films.
Just like Andres in Young Kingdom, our local filmmaking community is made up of resilient storytellers who refuse to be silenced. We’re creatives with powerful stories to share with the world. We’re dreamers with endless ideas, and just like Andres, we’re determined to keep fighting to tell our stories, validate our careers, and build our industry right here in Miami, even when we get knocked down. We’ll keep getting back up and pushing forward. Keep an eye out for Young Kingdom!
