That's what I think all the time! I'm the kind of person who needs to see it to believe it! Although, it would be great if god and some after life did exist! Now, after 7 years using Pristiq, shut it down three days ago after three weeks at 50 mg every other day. Same symptoms, not as intense. Knowing the Effexor eventually stopped its antics really helps in coping with the Pristiq. And, as many have said, the power of prayer can carry the day.

Driven by the desire to tell their own stories, a team of women gathered together and began filming. The result—a low-budget, LGBT indie feature film called Suicide Kale—has garnered praise and recognition at numerous independent film festivals. Created and produced entirely by women, Suicide Kale defies norms in an industry that continually fails to adequately include women on-screen and behind the scenes.

Directed by Carly Usdin, Suicide Kale provides a realistic portrayal of queer women and queer relationships. The film details the tense events that unfold after one couple, while visiting “the happiest couple they know,” discovers an anonymous suicide note. The film recently won an Audience Award for Best First U.S. Dramatic Feature at the 2016 Outfest LGBT Film Festival and Best Actress, Best Director and Best of Fest at the Los Angeles Diversity Film Festival.

In addition to an all-female production team, the film primarily features queer women of color as its protagonists. Actors Brittani Nichols, Jasika Nicole, and Brianna Baker recently spoke with Ms. about their experience working on Suicide Kale and being a part of a creative endeavor produced exclusively by women.

What inspired you to work on Suicide Kale?

Jasika: I was excited to work on this project because it was both an opportunity to push myself out of my comfort zone—doing improv—and to work with Brittani, whose work I had been admiring ever since I watched her pilot Word With Girls. Sometimes you come across a great piece of art that moves you deeply, and you think “gosh it would be a dream to be in that play or work with that writer or collaborate with that artist…” This was the first time I actually got to have a dream come true in that way.

Brittani: I went to see Tangerine in theaters with Lindsay Hicks, who plays Penn, and after that I felt this manic creative energy coursing through me. I went home and immediately wrote the first outline. I’d made a web series and a pilot, and a movie just felt like the next step. There are a lot of people that talk about how there’s no reason not to be making stuff constantly, but I don’t think that’s true. There are plenty of reasons not to and obstacles and complications. I’m extremely lucky to have had the resources, from equipment to talent, to make this film.

Brianna: The short and simple answer is that Brittani asked me to work on it, and I was flattered that she asked, which was encouraging, and got me pumped up to be a part of the film. Beyond being asked to be a part of the film, I was also incredibly excited to work on a film with all women.

Suicide Kale is a film about women exclusively created by women. Can you elaborate more on this experience? How did having an exclusively female creative team impact the film? Do you think it’s important that there are more spaces for women to embark on projects like this?

Jasika: This group was great not only because we were all women, but also because we were open to other people’s ideas. We all had unique perspectives from one another, and we all appreciated the input that each individual had. Creating something great feels easy when you are in an environment that feels safe and supportive the way this one did for me, and it was unlike any filming experience that I have had in my career thus far. There were no egos that got in the way of sharing the same vision for our project, and there were also shortcuts that we were able to take since we all had a similar frame of reference for existing in the world as women. We didn’t have to explain certain things to each other; having dialogues seemed generally easy and productive.

Brittani: From the beginning, I thought of this project as what would happen if women made mumblecore films. When I think of that genre, I think of it being one guy’s singular undiluted vision; I wanted to see what would happen if we took that same approach to the physical act of filmmaking but made it a more collaborative creative process where everyone got to feel like they were contributing. I think it’s important for spaces for women to work with only women to exist because that’s taking things into our own hands. Every year these studies about how the percentage of female directors, cinematographers, writers, etc. come out, and the numbers barely change. I think this is the only way to significantly move the needle.

Brianna: Coming to set every day was something that [was] comfortable. I didn’t feel like I needed to psych myself up to work with people, or put on a guise. I don’t mean to make it sound like other sets are nightmares, and you have to walk around with a mask on, or anything like that. That being said, there is a certain level of armor that I usually feel like I need to put on so that nothing that I do or say is misinterpreted. It also helps that these women were my friends, and we all felt an incredible ease on set. Creatively, I felt safe [to] improvise into dark places. Ultimately sharing a lot of my own perspectives as subject matters came up in conversation while filming scenes. I don’t think I can fully describe how important I feel it is for women to work with other women on projects similar to this. It’s obviously a concept that most women, we hope, would be on board with, but until you actually do it, you can’t fully imagine how transformative and encouraging it can be to the creative process.

Given Suicide Kale’s identity as a low-budget, indie LGBT film created by women, were there any particular barriers that you encountered, either in terms of creating the film or getting it programmed at festivals?

Brittani: I mean money, yeah. Everyone wants more money to work with, no matter if it’s a no-budget indie or a studio blockbuster. Not having a lot of money is something I knew going in, but what it’s truly cost me is time. Those are the barriers that I think are overlooked because—even if you get it together—to make the movie, you also have to have the time after to put into getting it seen. I didn’t have any relationships with programmers, and I didn’t have the money to just submit to every festival willy nilly, so after the movie was done, trying to get into festivals became a full-time job. I was emailing programmers and researching festivals to decide which were worth submitting to and asking for fee waivers and making a press kit. Then we got programmed, and Carly got tasked with making all of our prints and building the website and I was arranging print traffic and travel and trying to get press and making sure our screenings are well-attended. There’s just so much more that goes into it than just making the movie when you’re doing it on your own. Making the movie itself was sort of the easy part.

In an industry where women—especially queer women and women of color—are often underrepresented both on-screen and behind the scenes, do you see this lack of representation extend to supposedly more inclusive venues, such as independent film and LGBT film festivals?

Jasika: I haven’t seen much of what the indie film festivals have to offer, but in terms of independent films with distribution, I don’t feel like I often see myself or my experiences as part of the main narratives. There have been a few outliers, like Tangerine, that had a really great impact on the community and that I really enjoyed because of the performers and the writing, but in general, I don’t think I see a balance of feature films telling the kinds of stories I am interested in seeing compared with the amount of people out in the world trying to make them. The work of the Duplass brothers was inspirational for us because they seem to have a consistent vision and unique sense of humor in their productions that we wanted to capture in our own voices, but it also isn’t surprising that the Duplass brothers have had su

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