We recently connected with Jazmín Caratini and have shared our conversation below.

Jazmín, thanks for joining us, excited to have you contributing your stories and insights. Did you always know you wanted to pursue a creative or artistic career? When did you first know?

I remember being just five years old when I told my parents I wanted to be an actress. I didn’t fully understand what that meant, but I did understand the desire to have an impact. I even staged a “meeting” in the living room, just like the ones my parents would have when they needed to share something important with my sister and me. In that meeting, I told them, “I am making this meeting to let you know that the whole world will know who I am when I am an adult. So be ready because I will be famous.” It was an innocent declaration, fueled more by excitement than a clear understanding of fame.

But there was something in that moment that later shaped my journey. My dad was a huge influence on me—every night, after my sister and I finished our homework, we had the privilege of watching a movie together. It felt special because each night was a new genre, a new world to step into. My dad would never repeat a movie, so every evening was a fresh adventure. And after the credits rolled, I would retreat to my room and begin creating stories in my head. I would act out scenes, imagining myself in the lead role, recreating the shots as I thought they should be done.

It was through those moments of play and imagination that I realized acting wasn’t really about fame or recognition—it was about making people feel something. At a young age, I discovered that acting was a way to make others laugh, cry, feel fear, joy, hope, or excitement—sometimes all in a single performance. I wanted to have that power to move people. And even then, I was certain that this was the path I was meant to take. It wasn’t about the world knowing my name; it was about connecting with others, sharing emotions, and making them feel deeply. And that was the magic that drew me in, even before I fully understood it.

Awesome – so before we get into the rest of our questions, can you briefly introduce yourself to our readers.

When I got into the Drama Department at the University of Puerto Rico, that’s when I truly began to understand the discipline, long hours of study, and the persistence it takes to not only be a good actor but to build a sustainable career in the craft. My mom was initially hesitant about me pursuing a Bachelor’s degree in Performing Arts. She recommended I study law and take acting classes on the side, believing I’d make an amazing lawyer. She wasn’t wrong—I could probably argue and win any case. But for me, acting was the only thing I couldn’t back down from. I argued that studying something else would be like giving up on my dream before I even started. So, I went all in, straight for the Drama Department.

A year later, while walking through the halls of the university, I saw a poster for an audition for a professional play with a well-known producer on the island. I didn’t know much about auditions, but I did know two things: know your lines and bring truth. And truth always came naturally to me. So, I auditioned, and a couple of days later, I got a callback. But I was so nervous that I almost didn’t go. A friend found out I was skipping it and literally carried me, kicking and shouting, all the way to the classroom where the audition was. He knocked on the door and left me there. I’ll never forget that—he’s still one of my closest friends today.

When I walked into the room, they handed me the full script, and I thought, “Okay, maybe it’s a cold reading.” To my surprise, it wasn’t a cold reading at all—I was already being cast in the play. They wanted me. I couldn’t believe it. If I had let my nerves get the best of me, I might have missed the opportunity. But that wasn’t the end. The director of that play, Mario Colón, was also directing another production and asked me to be a part of it. It felt like a dream come true. But in acting, nothing ever feels like “this is it.” There’s always more ahead.

Mario Colón, my first theater director, later recommended I audition for a prestigious drama group at college, the Puerto Rican Traveling Theater. I remember his words: “You are a type.” At the time, I had no idea what that meant, but he encouraged me to audition for this group because he believed I had what it took. This group only selected 25 students out of many, offering them a scholarship, extra training in classical theater, and the chance to travel with productions. I made the cut, and soon, Dean Zayas, the director of the Puerto Rican Traveling Theater, became my mentor. He began recommending me for professional theater productions outside of college.

Before I even graduated, I was already working professionally in theater, film, and television. But in Puerto Rico, it’s hard to make a living with just one project, so I often found myself juggling multiple productions, voiceovers, and commercials at the same time. I was doing it all, and I’m grateful that I never allowed myself to be pigeonholed into a single “type.” By refusing to be stereotyped, I opened doors to a much wider range of opportunities.

It’s been a journey of constant growth, learning, and adaptability. That nervous little girl who once declared she would be famous has evolved into an actor who understands the true value of her craft—not in fame, but in the ability to move people, to connect, and to continue learning and growing as an artist every day.

What’s the most rewarding aspect of being a creative in your experience?

Every time I have the opportunity to perform, I feel a deep sense of fulfillment and completeness. There’s something uniquely powerful about telling a story through my craft, about conveying emotions that connect with people on such a personal level. In theater, the immediate feedback from the audience becomes a kind of dialogue that feeds and shapes my performance in real-time. It’s a rare and rewarding experience to be able to inspire, educate, or even move someone to take action in their own life through a single performance.

I remember a moment from The Laramie Project that stands out vividly. At the end of the play, a woman approached me in tears. She shared how the story resonated with her own life experiences, and how it allowed her to finally release the emotions she’d been carrying for so long. That moment reaffirmed my belief in the healing power of theater. It made me realize that performing isn’t just about entertaining—it’s about creating a space where people can feel seen, heard, and understood.

While films can also have this impact, there’s something about live theater that makes the connection feel immediate and visceral. The shared breath of the audience, the way laughter or silence fills the room, makes it all the more powerful. There’s a kind of magic in that live experience that stays with both the performer and the audience long after the curtain falls.

Learning and unlearning are both critical parts of growth – can you share a story of a time when you had to unlearn a lesson?

One lesson I had to unlearn was the idea that success is always linear—that hard work will always directly lead to progress or achievement. Early on, I believed that if I put in the effort, results would follow without fail. But over time, specially when I moved to LA, I realized that growth is often messy, nonlinear, and filled with setbacks. There were moments when I worked tirelessly but faced unexpected challenges or failures, which made me question my approach, and even my talent.
Another lesson I had to unlearn was the idea that age dictates when or how success should happen. Growing up, I often thought there was a certain timeline—by a certain age, you should have achieved specific milestones. At some point, the last couple of years I started to compare myself with other actresses that are my peers, thinking that I was behind because they were getting the things I thought I would have by that time.
But over time, I realized that success doesn’t follow a set schedule. Everyone’s journey is unique, and there’s no universal timeline for personal or professional accomplishments. So I was not late, I was just evolving and I decided to redefine how I was going to get where I wanted to go. I will bring myself there. That’s how my short film and my production company Migdalia Pictures was born.

This taught me that age isn’t a barrier but a reflection of experience. Success is about persistence, learning, and timing—qualities that continue to grow, regardless of when or how you begin. Now, I focus less on age and more on growth, knowing my future isn’t defined by when I achieve things, but by my ability to keep evolving.
Through this, I learned that setbacks don’t necessarily mean failure; they’re often part of the process. Sometimes progress isn’t immediately visible, or it happens in ways you didn’t expect. Embracing this uncertainty helped me to keep going and stay resilient, understanding that the path to success isn’t always a straight line, and that’s okay.

Contact Info:

• Instagram: jazmincaratini
• Facebook: Jazmín Caratini
• Linkedin: Jazmín Caratini
• Youtube: Jazmin Caratini

Image Credits

Jessica “Yeya” Chávez
Maridalis Morales
Juan P. Díaz