When emerging comedian Glorelys Mora and I first met in the comedy world—the connection was instant. I was amazed by her ability to capture and bring to life the need for expression in people through comedy. Her determination and infectious, raucous laughter drew me in, and we quickly bonded over our shared experiences and challenges as Dominican comedians. As comedians, we spent hours discussing how difficult it is to gain support and recognition in an industry that often ignores voices like ours. Our conversations sparked a vision: to create a dedicated platform to elevate Dominican voices in comedy.
When we started Morir Soñando, it was a project born out of a pressing need and a deep love for our culture. I felt that comedy was missing something important – authentic representation of the Dominican voice. While the comedy scene is vibrant and diverse, Dominican comedians often lack a platform that celebrates our unique perspectives and experiences. This gap in representation motivated us to create a space where our stories could be told unapologetically.
I sometimes joke about being emotionally constipated. I mean, I can’t cry, but I can joke about it. Laughter grounds the moment and transcends identity and status. It’s what reminds us that we’re alive and present. Comedy is like medicine with candy; it gently raises awareness about difficult topics. And as a result, it often supports our mental health and helps us get through some of life’s most difficult moments, including loss and trauma.
Growing up, I often felt alone as a child struggling with depression, but humor was the one thing that kept me from feeling completely isolated. Humor and laughter bring people together. No matter what you are going through; laughter acknowledges that you are present in that moment with others, whether you know them or not. Joking about being an outcast made me feel like I was less of a burden to my family because I could bring light to such a serious issue. It also let people like me know that they are not alone. A laugh can heal someone’s pain and suffering.
When it comes to comedy, comedy was an essential way of communicating in my family. It was how we dealt with our trauma. I didn’t know I was funny until people told me, and I was able to grow up and realize that I could make a living doing it. But I also don’t see many people like me making it this far in the industry. When I first saw Aida Rodriguez in “Last Comic Standing” in 2014, I felt an immediate connection because her experiences were so similar to mine. It wasn’t until I became a comedian that I realized how underrepresented we are.
But that also means we are constantly faced with a crossroads in this industry: do we assimilate or pave our own way? In the American market, stand-up comedy is often seen as either black or white. As an American, I embrace my blackness, but what about my parents’ Dominican identity and the way I was raised at home? Should I shut that part of myself down to be more acceptable to the “mainstream”?
The Glorelys and I wanted to create a space for people like us to address these questions—similar to what Def Comedy Jam has done for the African-American community. I’ve always related more to African-American comics because their comedy is authentic and raw, reflecting similar struggles to mine. Yet there’s still limited space for people who look like me and also speak Spanish.
Ultimately, the inspiration for Morir Soñando came from a deep need to see ourselves reflected on stage, not just as a token presence, but as the main event. Over 42 million people in the United States speak Spanish. It is inevitable that people in this country will be bilingual and speak Spanglish. We wanted to create something that would advance the conversation around Latinidad, showing that it is not a monolith but as diverse as every American in this country. Our comedy shows are not meant to exclude any nationality; quite the opposite. We want to be inclusive while creating a place where talents like ourselves can connect with people who may not know we exist.
We launched our first show in 2019 to celebrate and highlight Dominican comedians, showcasing our rich cultural heritage and the humor that comes from it. Last year, we made history with a show at the United Palace, an achievement that underscores the importance and impact of our mission. We will return to the United Palace for our next show on July 26 and are excited to move to the venue’s main theater, which can accommodate up to 3,350 people, for our November show.
However, organizing these events is not without its challenges. Financially, it is very demanding. Securing community support is crucial to sustaining and growing these events. Funding Latino events is extremely difficult, so Glorelys and I self-funded this event, which reflects broader issues of representation and support for minority communities in the arts.
Despite these challenges, we have had some notable victories. The success of our past shows and the growing support of our audiences give us hope and motivation. But the road ahead requires a collective effort from our community. We need to come together to support and uplift each other, recognizing the importance of cultural events like Morir Soñando.
I want to be honest about our frustrations—securing funding, finding the right location, and fighting prejudice—because these obstacles make our victories all the sweeter. We’re proud of what we’ve accomplished so far and excited for the future.
Morir Soñando is more than just a comedy show, it is a celebration of Dominican culture, a platform for underrepresented voices, and a movement towards greater inclusivity in the comedy world. Your support is vital to helping us continue this journey, and we look forward to sharing more laughs and stories with you.
Sasha Merci is a first-generation Dominican-American actress, comedian, and digital creator. She brings over a decade of diverse experience in entertainment with roles in films like “Righteous Thieves” and “De Lo Mio,” along with collaborations with popular brands like Target and Bumble. She shares her Bronx roots and passion for Latin culture by speaking out about mental health and navigating comedy.
