We recently connected with Danyelle Weatherford and have shared our conversation below.

Hi Danyelle , thanks for joining us today. Can you talk to us about a project that’s meant a lot to you?

The most meaningful project I’ve worked on is The Rokk Group—not because the idea before the name was a childhood dream, but because life backed me into a corner, and I needed to turn the fight into something that meant something.

I’ve sat in boardrooms with tech titans and finance giants, often the youngest and the only woman at the table—fighting to be heard, while learning to read contracts with one hand and carry my calling in the other. I’ve been through legal battles that drained me. Friendships that cracked under the weight of my boundaries. Seasons where I was killing it professionally—and dying on the inside.

Then breast cancer showed up and flipped the whole thing on its head. Suddenly, I wasn’t the boss—I was the patient. I had to become the quarterback of my own care. I had to teach my family how to be my team. That process taught me how to advocate, how to slow down, how to live—not just push through. And it made me realize: most women don’t get taught how to do this. They’re told to survive. I want to help them lead.

So The Rokk Group became my reset. I built it to serve people in next chapters of life—especially women over 40 and young adults waking up to their next chapter (especially creatives). It’s not just a business or a brand—it’s a movement built on authenticity, purpose, and being bold enough to start over. I work in lifestyle and entertainment because people need both—rest and expression, healing and laughter, God and grit. Sometimes you need to cry it out. Sometimes you need to make a film that kicks butt. We do both.

That’s why The Austin Action Fest exists, where I serve as Chief Creative Officer—to celebrate the indie filmmakers and stunt legends, the editors, the visionaries behind the scenes who don’t always get the shine but are building stories that move people. We make space for fun, for freedom, for those bold, messy, honest films that make you laugh, cry, think, and cheer.

And The Syndicate is where we take the collective power of these creatives and say, “Let’s stop asking for permission.” It’s a builder’s table—a group of leaders creating with collaboration, not competition.

I’m not here for fame. I’m here for faithfulness. I’m here to serve people who are silently wondering if they’ve missed their window. My answer? You are the window. Now let’s open it and let some light in.

This work matters because I’ve lived the cost of getting here. And now, everything I build helps someone else pick up their tools and start building too.

As always, we appreciate you sharing your insights and we’ve got a few more questions for you, but before we get to all of that can you take a minute to introduce yourself and give our readers some of your back background and context?

I never set out to follow a straight line—I followed what was real. I followed what wasn’t working, what was getting ignored, and what needed to be said out loud. That started early. I grew up next to my dad watching football, and he’d talk about how athletes and artists were getting played—bad deals, bad agents, promises made, lives broken. It stuck with me. I knew I was going to step into that world one day and be a force for change.
I’ve moved through chapters—every one with intention. From gymnastics, ballet, competitive twirling, and cheerleading, movement and performance were always part of me. I went on to major in marketing at Texas State, planning to head straight to law school. But something told me to learn the back end first—the real business of money, contracts, control. I worked at Merrill Lynch and Capital Group. I dove into audio engineering. I needed to know how the system worked so that one day, no artist I worked with would get blindsided in the room.
Then came Apple. For a creative thinker with a strategy mind, it was heaven. I got to watch a company that truly understood innovation—not just as a product but as a way of being. It shaped me. I started to see how systems and creativity could live in the same house.
After a season representing indie artists and even launching a cleaning company, I shifted again—into acting. Then modeling. Then booking commercials and television. That’s when I made a very deliberate decision: I took two years to research the Central Texas film and TV scene from the inside. I became a sponge. I wanted to understand the “extra” world, the casting, the contracts, the communities, the mistakes, the networks, the energy—and most of all, the gaps.
That two-year window taught me how the business of the business really worked—and where it didn’t. I noticed how fragmented the creative community was. I noticed that many artists here were full-time professionals—educators, tech, finance, military—doing creative work on the side. And most of them didn’t see themselves as brands. That had to shift.
Then came 2017. Breast cancer. That was the real detour. I couldn’t move like I used to. Everything slowed. But I documented it—a personal docuseries meant to teach others what no one tells you until you’re in it. I accidentally signed up for a nutrition chemistry course instead of a general one and stuck with it anyway—during treatment. I finished it with a B. My professor, also a cancer survivor, understood the fight.
That chapter taught me how to lead my own healing, how to teach my family to support me practically—not just emotionally—and how many people, especially women, don’t know how to advocate for themselves in medical systems. That became part of my mission, too.
And that’s when The Rokk Group came to life. I fused everything—faith, strategy, business acumen, media, storytelling, and life experience—into a company that does more than produce content. We create platforms, programs, and partnerships that help people move through transition and build with purpose. Especially women over 40, creatives on the edge of reinvention, and voices that the mainstream system likes to overlook.
I connected with incredible teammates—Kisha C.G., Benjamin Redic II, Joe Barajas, and Ericka Redic—and became part of Austin Action Fest. Together, we’re spotlighting the action genre and the people who make it come alive behind the camera. It’s entertaining, yes—but it’s also honoring, and long overdue.
Then came The Syndicate—a collaboration of powerhouse individuals and companies with different strengths but the same goal: to create access, community, and resources for indie and mainstream artists who want to do things differently—with integrity, with vision, and with results.
I’m a mom. A friend. A daughter. A strategist. A woman of faith. I’m observant, intentional, and when I move—I move with clarity. I care about long-term relationships. About growing with people. About legacy.
Oh—and I want to be a certified tactical driver. I like a little action with my purpose.
What sets me apart is simple: I don’t just know business—I am business. I’ve been through real life and still show up with vision. And I’m not afraid to say what others won’t. If I have something to give, I will. And if I see a gap, I’ll build the bridge. I can help you see something in yourself you never knew existed too. That special light.
That’s what The Rokk Group does. That’s what our team lives. And that’s the energy we bring and I bring to every story, every stage, and every single moment we/I get to lead.

What’s a lesson you had to unlearn and what’s the backstory?

“That being prepared means staying in control.”
Backstory (as I read between the lines):
I’ve always been the one who did the homework. I’ve learned finance to protect creatives. I’ve studied a little law (didn’t end up going to law school) to spot the fine print. I’ve studied nutrition, leadership, tech, entertainment contracts —I even took two years to dissect the Central Texas scene from the ground up. Why? Because, I was determined never to be blindsided. To outsmart the system before it had the chance to play me.
But then, cancer showed up. No schedule. No deal memo. No “let’s circle back next quarter.”
It forced a new kind of lesson: I can’t out-plan pain. I can’t control everything, even if you study it, pray over it, and run it like a business.
I had to unlearn the belief that preparation equals protection.
And learn that sometimes, surrender is the most powerful strategy.
That letting go doesn’t mean losing.
That control is not the same as leadership.
And that faith walks where formulas fail.

Is there something you think non-creatives will struggle to understand about your journey as a creative?

Yes. And it’s not just that I’m a creative—it’s how I create. What people outside this space often don’t understand is the moral weight that sometimes comes with storytelling. This isn’t just about lights, cameras, and applause. This is about influence. Real, deep, lasting influence.

I know what images can do to people. I’ve watched a single scene make someone cry. I’ve seen a storyline cause families to question their identity, kids to imitate what they saw, or people to laugh in the middle of grief. Stories shape people—sometimes more than sermons. And that awareness? It keeps me up at night.

There’s a part of me that struggles with this business. Because while I love the craft, I also see how easily it can cross the line into exploitation. How quickly content becomes conditioning. How easy it is to entertain at the cost of someone’s sense of self.

Some people enter this industry to chase fame. I came to challenge the framework. If I’m going to be part of an industry that makes money by pulling emotional strings, then I want to make sure those strings aren’t being tied around someone’s neck.

That’s why I stay mindful. That’s why I build with intention. Not to sanitize art—but to steward it. If certain images, messages, or stories are affecting our kids, our families, our mental health, or our communities… then I can’t just shrug and say, “That’s just the business.” No. If I’m here, I’m here to be part of the solution.

Entertainment should make us feel. But it should also make us think, reflect, even grow. I’m not running from the tension—I’m building in the middle of it. And if my presence helps one person choose truth over trend or healing over hype—then I’m doing my job.

Contact Info:

• Website: TheRokkGroup.com, AustinActionFest.com, https://filmfreeway.com/AustinActionFest
• Instagram: @danyellecweatherford, https://www.instagram.com/austinactionfest/
• Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/danyelle.cavanessweatherford, https://www.facebook.com/AustinActionFest
• Linkedin: linkedin.com/in/danyelle-weatherford-pmp-4005354, https://www.linkedin.com/company/austin-action-fest/posts/?feedView=all
• Twitter: @TheRokkGroup, @AustinActionFe1
• Youtube: @TheRokkGroup, https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCUfFUlYp8NK6v0JV2AwQIUw, @austinactionfest, https://www.youtube.com/@austinactionfest

Image Credits

Felicia Reed Photography,
Kim Anderson Photography,
Breast Cancer Resource Center