Reinaldo Marcus Green: “I'm 100% of both of my parents”
The director on unspoken energies, embracing his full name and why it’s always deeper than skin
Hi, welcome back to Mixed Messages! This week I’m speaking to director Reinaldo Marcus Green, who is of mixed African American and Puerto Rican heritage. Known for titles like Monsters and Men, King Richard and Bob Marley: One Love, Reinaldo’s work has explored race for both everyday people and those at the height of their fame – and in the case of Bob Marley, mixed identity too. I couldn’t wait to hear his own story – check it out below.
How do you define your heritage?
Somebody asked my brother “what are you?” and he said “I'm 100% Puerto Rican and 100%, Black.” I’ve always used that because it’s so easy to split yourself into percentages, but we’re 100% of who we are.
My mom is Puerto Rican, but second generation, born in the Bronx. My dad is African American. His parents were born here, but we’re not exactly sure for the generation before or where we’re from. I've always grown up with the notion that I'm 100% of both of my parents, not 50/50.
I think it’s a good way for me to raise my children and have them think about who they are in the world and what they represent. I don’t want them to think ‘because I’m only half, I don’t have to think about that part of my life.’ It’s important for them to understand their history so they can embrace their culture.
You’re often referred to as a Black director, do you feel comfortable with that?
I feel very comfortable given that I was raised by a Black father. My parents got divorced when I was young. I identified as only Black for so long because I had one parent in the household and they were Black. With the absence of my mom in the house, I lost a little bit of that side.
It wasn’t until I moved in with my mom for college that this other half of me started to reveal itself – language, culture, the things I missed just by virtue of them not being in the household. When you’re a child, that’s the most impressionistic time.
I definitely identify as Black, but I think Black encompasses all of this. It's everything other than white. When I think about America, if you’re not white, you’re Black.
Has there ever been a mismatch between how you’re perceived externally versus how you feel inside?
Yeah, for sure. When you’re young and in New York City schools kids will call out the level of melanin in your skin. There was a period of time in the ‘80s and ‘90s where light skinned brothers were a thing, there were moments in cultural history where there was this projected idea of what Blackness was, which obviously goes back centuries with slavery and post-slavery, what identified mixed-race versus someone that was darker skinned, people working in the fields versus working in the house… it’s really deep when you start to analyse language and culture.
But for the most part, I think it's just an unspoken thing. It’s an energy, feeling a certain way in different environments. It’s subtle, like someone speaking Spanish to test your ability to speak the language, to identify if you are truly Puerto Rican.
I grew up with a Black father who wanted to teach his children that Blackness is about education, and just because you don’t do certain things, that doesn't mean that you're not Black. There's certain levels to this game. I've always tried to do that in my art and the choices I’ve made in films. I've embraced my culture and will continue to do that, because it's important.
Have you ever felt like you needed to be more Black?
There were different periods of time where I identified my Blackness or my Latin side with certain superficial measures. The colour of your skin is just one marker. When you’re a kid, that’s the only marker because that’s what all the other kids talk about. “You're lucky because you're light skinned,” or whatever. That’s out of my control. It wasn’t until I got older that I realised there are so many different ways to understand my upbringing beyond skin.
I always knew I wasn't white, and was always reminded of that. I’m still reminded today, whether that’s getting a cup of coffee or an interaction with a bank teller, in an elevator, job interview or meeting. In every walk of life, there’s these constant little reminders of who you are, some more subtle than others. When you grow up like that, you grow up with certain defences.
It’s how you embrace those things and the reality of what the world is and how you see yourself. Are those things a benefit to you? There was a time when I started to think these are attributes, this is a beautiful thing. It's a beautiful thing to be a Black man in America, it's a beautiful thing to be a Latin man in America. For the longest time, I didn’t know how to flip the switch into the power that we have as a culture. Now I'm very proud to be who I am.
Code switching is a natural thing. When I’m around my Puerto Rican aunties, all of a sudden my Latin side is more pronounced. When I’m with my boys from the Bronx, my Latino Blackness comes out a hair more. You're not trying to put on a certain face, it's just who you are.
Can you share more about how your Blackness influences your films? It’s quite clear in terms of the themes you choose – is there something deeper?
It's a matter of perspective. As a person of colour, you’re always conscious of that. That consciousness goes into the work for sure, but you never want your identification to be something that limits your ability to succeed.
I think about my culture as an advantage, I think about my full name as an advantage. I was raised Rei Green, I didn't start using my full name until I started making films. It was a really interesting way for me to start thinking about how the world perceives who I am as a filmmaker. I’m not just Rei Green, my parents didn’t name me Rei Green. They named me Reinaldo Marcus Green.
As a kid I thought my name was too long. I didn’t speak Spanish, so it was hard for me to embrace my full name. Now, I only use my full name. I want my kids to be proud of their full names and understand that there’s a lot of meaning in it. Obviously in film I’m embracing the subject matters that mean the most to me. They're human stories, I don’t know about the mixedness of them, but I’m choosing to tell stories that mean something to me and hopefully will resonate with others.
Do you think there are any stereotypes about being biracial in America? How do you want the conversation to move forward?
I’m not online so I don’t [see those conversations.] I think about the universe, I don’t think about being mixed. I’m 100% of both, I don't think about splitting myself or how other people identify me. If I do that, I’m limited and limiting my ability to be in certain circles.
I don't think about how other people think about me, I think about how I feel in the world, and how I can best lift up my culture in the world. The best way to do that is to represent us in front of and behind the camera, telling our stories not just from an outsider’s perspective, but from an insider.
What’s the best thing about being mixed for you?
I am who I am and I embrace that. I hope I'm dedicating my life towards uplifting our communities – not just mixed communities, but Black, Latina, Asian… It's my responsibility.
Perspective is important, and I do have a unique perspective because of my parents, but it goes beyond that. It’s their professions, their upbringings, it’s culture. Thinking about culture through multiple perspectives is important.
Can you sum up your mixed experience in one word?
Love.
Next week, I’ll be speaking to presenter and author of Looked After, Ashley John Baptiste. Subscribe to get Mixed Messages in your inbox on Monday.
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Mixed Messages is a weekly exploration of the mixed-race experience, from me, Isabella Silvers. My mom is Punjabi (by way of East Africa) and my dad is white British, but finding my place between these two cultures hasn’t always been easy. That’s why I started Mixed Messages, where each week I’ll speak to a prominent mixed voice to delve into what it really feels like to be mixed.