Hi everyone. So, it's been 
a good day, right?

Yeah. So before I start my speech,

I want everyone in the audience 
to keep in mind

the importance of mentorship.

So, I'm young, I'm a woman.

I am from a poor family 
with a single mother.

I am from Dayton, Ohio. I am a filmmaker.

This is a story of how I became

a feminist filmmaker in Ohio.

I would say that a lot of young, 
talented people

have left Ohio for greener pastures.

I would say that the staying 
hasn't been easy.

It's been cheaper. 
I don't regret it. It's possible.

So, this isn't a total "pull yourself up

by your bootstraps" story.

I am aware of the privileges 
that I do have.

I grew up poor, but I fit in.

I'm white. I appear to be 
upper-middle class.

I have my health. So, I want to start 
from the beginning.

I was always a good student.

A good art student, at least.

And I was always kind of saved 
by my art teachers.

One teacher in particular, Mrs. Dun,

she gave me 5 dollars 
in gas money to get home

from high school one day.

Mrs. Dun saw me through 
my entire college application process.

She saw something in me 
that I wasn't able to see in myself:

that I was worth something.

I didn't always know 
that I wanted to be a filmmaker.

It wasn't until I was 
at Wright State University.

I was sitting in class 
with Dr. Charles Derry,

who's a very revered person 
in our film world.

He was talking in public about things

that I'd never heard 
talked about in public before.

He was talking about taboo things, 
like death, and sex,

and being out and gay, 
and politics and the war.

He showed me films where these things

were the subject matter.

He showed me that film could be

an intensely powerful medium.

So, that was all great.

I still had a lot of things 
to learn, though.

For example, when I saw 
my first film camera,

the K-3, which is very big, it's bulky,

it's user-unfriendly, I was terrified.

And I told my male professor at that time,

I told him, I was joking, but I said,

"I can't do this, I'm a girl."

And he told me, he was joking, sort of,

but he said, "You know, my daughter 
is the same age as you.

if she were in the room right now,

she would punch you in the face 
for saying that."

(Laughter)

So, it was an important moment though,

because it was the first time 
that someone pointed out to me

that I was sexist, against myself.

And I thank him for that.

So, Wright State University 
is a competitive school.

Every year, your class size diminishes.

So, by my second year, 
all of the women had dropped out,

except for me.

So, for 4 years, I was the only woman.

I had to be fine with it. 
I had to be better than fine.

I had to be like really 
damn good at everything.

So, I cut off all my hair, 
which was so liberating,

but it was definitely for survival.

In 2008, I was sort of developing

into a political filmmaker.

I was really interested in the Sarah Palin 
and Hillary Clinton iconomy

at that time.

It was really interesting to me to see 
how the media portrayed them.

For instance, Sarah Palin was always like

this pretty, sort of like dumb character,

and Hilary Clinton was always this like

shrewd, ugly character,

and nothing else they did and said 
really mattered in the media.

And that really bothered me.

I did my first short film, Park,

which is a coming of age story of a woman

growing up on a trailer park.

Park was a huge project at that time.

It took so much talent.

A lot of the people who worked on the film

are now working 
in the industry professionally.

It took 3 years to make.

I did it while I was a student.

The film was mostly 
about how a young person

might become a sex worker.

Park was successful. 
It played at about 9 film festivals,

one of them being Slamdance.

And to those of you who aren't familiar

with the hierarchy of the film festivals,

Slamdance is a major film festival.

It happens in Park City, Utah,

across the street 
from the Sundance Film Festival.

It's like in response to Sundance.

It's like the indie of indie film fests.

(Laughter)

Yeah. So, my mentor 
and a great documentary filmmaker,

Julia Reichert had said 
I had beaten the odds.

And she was right.

But I wouldn't have been able 
to beat the odds,

if it hadn't been 
for people like Julia Reichert

and Steven Bognar.

They really gave me 
an opportunity to hone my skills

as a filmmaker.

My apprenticeship with them

let me see how masters 
really do their craft.

There's no better education than that,

and I thank them.

I remember I was shooting on a film

called Remote Area Medical,

which is a documentary 
about uninsured people

camping outside a NASCAR stadium overnight,

to try and get free healthcare 
the next day.

So, I was with Steve and we were 
interviewing this woman.

She had been in line all day.

She was just in line to get glasses.

She couldn't see. 
She needed glasses to get a job.

She broke down crying 
during the interview.

And for some reason, 
we started the interview above her.

She was sitting in a chair 
and we were shooting down at her.

And, when she started to cry,

Steve immediately sank down to one knee,

and so we could look her in the eye,

and he finished the interview 
on the ground.

Being able to document 
a sensitive moment like that

is a total privilege, 
and deserving of respect.

And Steve taught me how to be

an empathetic storyteller.

As a documentarian, 
you're always looking for that line.

The line of, "Am I portraying this reality

the way that is like the most objective?"

And the line of, "I don't want 
to exploit my subject."

It's actually really easy 
to exploit someone

as a media maker.

You have the camera, 
you have the microphone,

you have the power over someone.

So, when you have the privilege

of being able to like, discern a moment,

is worth documenting 
or worth being left alone,

you have to use that power.

You know, you may 
see something that's interesting,

or worth documenting,

but that may be someone else's heartbreak,

and you have to remember that.

But the power of media 
as a political tool is undeniable.

So, in 2012, I left Dayton 
and moved to Cincinnati,

with my fellow classmates Erick Stoll

and Chase Whiteside, 
with New Left Media.

In 2012, we did 
a pre-presidential election series

for the Internet.

I am most proud of my contribution

to the War on Women's Health,

piece that we did.

It's a video of that went viral, 
with over 100,000 views.

It was successful.

But, I mean, if you remember 
that time at all,

you know, women's productive health 
was like quite a hot topic.

If you guys can remember like 
"binders full of women",

which I'm sure some of you do,

I don't understand 
what I'm talking about.

So, I'm a political person,

I'm a feminist, I'm not afraid to say it.

So, that's kind of let me 
to where I am now.

I am the co-founder 
of Women Working Collective.

We're three women.

Right now, we're working 
on a short film

called Alternative Auto,

which is about an auto garage

in Columbus, Ohio.

It's run and operated by all women.

It's one of the only 
female run and operated

auto garages in the world.

These people, these women are amazing.

We just wrapped shooting.

we're really excited about it. 
We're editing right now.

In short, while I was in Dayton,

I was lucky enough 
to be mentored by the best.

My professors at Wright State,

all the people who helped me 
along the way,

the women at WISO all contributed

to me becoming a filmmaker.

I hope I get to continue to make films.

I hope to, one day, inspire people

the way they have inspired me.

So, to close, for those of you 
in the audience,

I would like for you to think 
about someone in your life

who you can mentor,

or to think about something 
you would like to learn or do,

and to seek those people out 
in our community.

They're there.

We're doing a TEDx. 
They're there, you know.

You could really enhance your life.

You will enhance the life 
of others, here in Dayton.

Thank you.

(Applause)