Last weekend wrapped “Nuestras Voces: Anhelo un Café con Estrellas,” at the Ute Theater in Rifle. The play, an autobiographical collection of our own Valley’s vignettes, was presented by VOICES, the nonprofit devoted to amplifying local stories and advocating for inclusion and social justice through the arts.
The timing for this production and its message felt urgent. Tensions in the Latino community are ever-present, as divisive rhetoric around immigration remains common and ICE raids persist as an assault on civil rights. As a reprieve, in this small art deco theater, Spanish-speaking families filled the seats, watching their stories unfold in a space that acknowledged their tenderness and agency. For non-Spanish speakers, live translation was available through headsets. On the Saturday before closing, the venue exceeded capacity, with staff rushing additional chairs to meet the demand.
Founded in 2016 by Barbara Reese, VOICES began out of a love for poetry and the spoken word and now produces four devised theater projects every two years. Devised theater, also called “collective creation,” is a collaborative process where ensemble members author the production, merging their lived experiences with theater craft. Each of the four VOICES projects focuses on a different community: Nuestras Voces for Latinos, as well as programs centering LGBTQ+ people, women and “sage” elders.
“Anhelo un Café con Estrellas” revolved around sueños (dreams), approached through five distinct intimate life scenes. The cast (and their autobiographical characters) included a radio anchor, teacher, hospital manager, newspaper editor (Sol del Valle’s Bianca Godina) and several students. Some scenes involved real family members performing stylized versions of their own domestic dynamics, for example mother and daughter tending chores. For months before the premiere, the cast met two or three times a week, eventually rehearsing daily as opening night approached.
The play began with radio host Samuel Bernal of La Tricolor radio reflecting on his own dreams and those of his daughter. When she announces, suitcase in hand, plans to travel the world, Bernal pleads with her to stay. He urges her not to absorb what he calls the “American narrative” of 18-year-old emancipation, expressing instead the Latin cultural norm that families remain together until children begin families of their own. Addressing the audience as his on-air listeners, the “beautiful mountain people,” Samuel delivers his radio broadcast live, offering messages of heritage, solidarity and a constructive future. His story, contrasting migration with belonging, sets the tone for the play.
Audience member Eric Tinajero, a Carbondale DJ known as TEAJ, reflected afterward, “The play captured immigrant experience intimately — the desire to travel in the heart of immigrants, the need to see what the world is like.” His words spoke not only to those who migrate in search of prosperity but also to the generations that follow, wrestling with a new crop of questions regarding identity.
Other vignettes featured distinct formats: a mother and daughter comparing their lives to a doll’s perfect make-believe story, a puppet show where a dragon’s weak stomach led to its defeat via mild salsa, a diary entry paired with live video commentary and a young girl’s visitation from her future self, who reassures her to stay on course under pressure.
Throughout the play, the dream motif appeared with hope and caution. If arriving in America is itself a dream, then, as Bernal tells his alpine audience, “You are in the ceiling of America — you’ve made it.” Yet the play insists that arrival is only the beginning; dreams must remain active and evolving. The production carried a palpable sense of responsibility, deliberately exploring many avenues in its quest for sincere optimism. As Bernal told this reporter after the show, “Today, so much hostility is official, even federal. It’s our job in communications to express hope. This is a chance to reaffirm what we believe is good.”
This motivation was affirmed by VOICES executive and artistic director MinTze Wu: “There’s always worry about drawing attention. But any time we’re told to be silent, showing up is courage. Fear may still be there, but just as some forces tear us apart, others bring us together.”
And together it felt. Children filled the aisles, and one woman marveled that it was her first time in a theater that wasn’t showing movies. This was a new experience for the community, custom ordered for them. As director and kindergarten teacher Gabriela Espinoza said in her opening remarks, “Everything here is done by your community, people just like you.” It was a revelation of the community’s potential, fully on display.
In a moment when visibility can feel risky, perhaps even reckless, “Anhelo un Café con Estrellas” offered a kind of consolation: a dialogue reaching beyond survival toward fulfillment. The play urged courage, inviting its audience to nurture the ambitions that so often find them under assault. The performance left its audience with a reminder that dreaming itself is an act of freedom. As encouraged in more than one vignette: “Échale ganas” — do it like you mean it.