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Dreams of My Father follows in a lineage of films that challenge reality and society as we know it:

from the female action heroes of the 1970s Blaxploitation era to the unapologetically queer filmmakers transforming today’s Hollywood landscape.

Since early childhood, I’ve always gravitated toward stories about outcasts. Despite having his early films relegated to porn theaters, iconic Baltimore filmmaker John Waters is now celebrated as “the King of Filth” for telling outrageously fun and authentic queer stories without sanitizing the content for mainstream heteronormative audiences.

I also greatly admire Gregg Araki’s ability to maintain his punk rock aesthetic while telling a heartbreaking story of childhood sexual abuse with remarkable sensitivity in Mysterious Skin.

Cheryl Dunye’s The Watermelon Woman not only broke down barriers to tell authentic black female stories, but the film itself frequently breaks the fourth wall and playfully blurs the boundary between fact and fiction.

Dreams of My Father is the latest in a long legacy of films that raise awareness and provide queer and BIPOC viewers the opportunity to see themselves on film:

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