A repressed young woman with a penchant for violence discovers exactly what she's been missing after an encounter with an adult shop's persistent customer goes awry.

As a female filmmaker of color, I often find myself drawn to stories of women who are socially “other-ed,” unconventional women who are unable to express themselves as they wish – whether because they are denied the right by others or so arrested by the shame of their other-ing.
It is this shame that is the vehicle of Cherry, an intimate character study of a young woman coming into her own, claiming ownership of herself, her body, and her desires.
And during a time in which women’s ownership of their bodies seems to be undermined by the evolving politics of each passing day, I believe Cherry's story is relevant.
I want to tell stories of women with complexity, women who can at once be domineering and vulnerable, disenchanted in some ways and idealistic in others, women who are as real as the women watching them.
And finally, as a woman who wants and yearns and desires quite a lot, I am interested in writing women in that vein: women who want to the point of struggle, to a point that is beyond acceptable.
Women who are defiant, not merely for the sake of being contrarian, but who are defiant on their own account. For self-preservation, for self-fulfillment.
I want stories for women by women to continue to have their place.
Cherry is my contribution.