The Weight of Sugar Cane

On memory, siblings, and why we’re making this film

Note to Reader: Rich Perez is one of my closest friends. When it comes to living at the intersection of grief and hope, he’s helped me think clearly by correcting my vision. Not through words, but through film. In January of 2022 we spent a few months working on a film project for We Go On. We sat in my office and he asked me questions for 3 hours that helped me excavate depths of grief that had been crusted over the better part of 7 years. Since then, he’s become a part of a select group I refer to as my “Small Group of Geniuses.” I want this group to be a part of everything I do, and I want to be a part of everything they do. This post is my way to being a small part of what he’s up to. Take some time and read and consider being a part of this amazing project he’s putting together. Peace.

The Weight of Sugar Cane

Some stories sit in your chest for years before you even realize they’ve been trying to get out. This one’s been with me for a while.

It came to me in fragments: a cluttered New York City apartment filled with old photos and playing old music. A kid making mangu while her older sister argues with the insurance company on speakerphone because mami needed a translator, otherwise, who knows what she would’ve agreed to. A hallway of peeling paint and the sounds of chamaquitos playing manhunt in the distance…or maybe that’s just memory messing with me again.

What do adult children do when they return home—not just to care for a sick parent, but to face the emotional weight of everything left unsaid?

That’s the question underneath The Weight of Sugar Cane.

It’s about four adult Dominican siblings navigating one long weekend in their childhood apartment. A father’s health is challenged. Decisions have to be made. And in the middle of all that, something unexpected happens — they start remembering who they used to be around each other. They start playing again.

If you’ve ever cared for someone who didn’t know how to say “I love you,” or fought with a sibling while secretly needing their hug, this film is for you.

It’s a story about grief, yes. But also about joy and freedom and curiosity. About the type of joy that sneaks in the side door, uninvited, while you’re doing dishes or taking out the trash. The kind of joy you forgot you knew how to feel. The kind you find in the presence of people who’ve known you longer than you’ve known yourself.

The Weight of Sugar Cane is a short film about adult siblings who return home to care for their aging Dominican father. That’s the plot. But it’s also about something deeper — the quiet ache of growing up, the grief that settles into the corners of a NYC apartment, and the soft rediscovery of joy in places you thought had gone dry.

Our fundraising campaign on Seed&Spark is live and we’re slowly approaching the campaign end. When launched the campaign, the response was encouraging. The texts. The shares. The early supporters who gave without me even asking. It’s been a reminder that the stories we carry aren’t just ours. They’re communal. They’re cultural. They’re connective.

Now here’s the part where I get a little logistical; and a little bold.

Our goal is to raise $19,550 in 30 days. We’re about 12 days away from the campaign’s end and about $10k from reaching 80% of our goal, which is what we need to get greenlit. 

We’re making this film with the same independent, guerrilla-style spirit that shaped It Stays With Us, my last short. That little film went places: Oscar-qualifying festivals, private screenings, and, you know, We Go On, a 20-city tour on grief and hope. It even won a few awards along the way. But this one— this one, feels special.

A few things make The Weight of Sugar Cane unique:

1. The storytelling is grounded in atmosphere and gesture. We’re leaning less on exposition and more on physicality, sound, and silence. The way siblings talk without talking. The way a hallway can feel like childhood and adulthood all at once.

2. It’s a deeply Dominican-American story. From the food to the cadence to the way love and duty show up in a family like this, the film is an ode to Caribbean siblings navigating adulthood while still carrying the sound of their parents’ accent in their ears.

3. The production is led by an all-Caribbean team. That’s not a tagline; it’s our conviction. Dominican, and Puerto Rican. From cast to crew, we’re building something that reflects our community and pours back into it.

4. The cultural ROI is real. For our investors and funders, this isn’t just about backing a short film. It’s about creating space in the industry for culturally specific, emotionally expansive stories told by the people who lived them. Every dollar helps build not just a film, but a track record for future Dominican-led narratives.

So here’s my invitation:

If you’ve been moved by the work I’ve made in the past…

If you believe in stories that hold joy and grief at the same time…

If you want to see more films made by and for Caribbean communities…

Would you consider giving to the campaign? Or forwarding it to someone who might?Or simply sharing it, reposting it, becoming part of our “street team” in this first crucial week?

Here’s the link:

https://seedandspark.com/fund/the-weight-of-sugarcane

Every bit helps. Every cheer counts.

And if you want a visual? Picture four grown siblings cleaning their father’s apartment. The youngest puts on an old Johnny Ventura CD. The oldest groans. The middle one starts dancing without realizing it. And by the end, they’re all laughing. And for a moment everything feels like childhood again.

That’s the story we’re telling.

And I’d love for you to help us tell it.

Peace,

Rich Pérez