Growing up in Laredo, comedian, actress, and singer Sandra Valls never dreamed her day-to-day interactions would become fodder for her Broadway debut. But at the tender age of 59, Valls starred in the 2025 Tony-nominated musical Real Women Have Curves—in a role she helped develop.
Before she graced the Great White Way, Valls studied musical theater at the University of Texas at Austin and the American Musical and Dramatic Academy in New York City and honed her comedic chops in Los Angeles. In 2007, Valls starred in Showtime’s Latin Divas of Comedy. In 2019, she cowrote and starred in the Latina Christmas Special with two fellow comedic actresses, Diana Yanez and Maria Russell. The off-Broadway show paid homage to the heart and humor of growing up in a Latino household. It’s become a staple in LA and was named a Critic’s Choice by the Los Angeles Times. But Broadway was always on her bucket list.
In Real Women Have Curves, her character, Fulvia, is a Mexican immigrant working in an LA fabric factory with other undocumented workers. She’s a blend of Valls, who is Mexican and gay, and the townspeople she grew up with—immigrants looking to fulfill their dreams in the United States. “This role is a combination of everything I’ve lived and experienced, but Fulvia is braver than I am,” Valls says. “She had to risk her life to come to a new country for a better life, whereas I was privileged to be born here, so I could pursue my dreams.”
Texas Highways: What is your earliest memory of Texas?
Sandra Valls: Of being in my living room as my dad was building our home, which he still lives in. He’s 93 and still going strong. After school I’d sit on the sawhorses while he worked, and he’d give me a couple of pieces of wood to play with. He knew how to do and build anything. When we moved to Laredo from Nuevo Laredo in Mexico, just a mile across the Rio Grande, the U.S. felt so different—quiet, sunny, and peaceful. Though when I visited recently, someone was playing loud music in the middle of the day on a Monday. That’s border towns: We’re a mix of many things.
TH: Did you always want to have a career in the performing arts?
SV: I knew I wanted to act, but there was no representation for me on TV at the time. I watched American shows of white families or all-Spanish shows on Mexican TV. In Laredo, we spoke Spanglish and had a different accent. It’s its own culture. My mom wasn’t happy that I wanted to be an actress; she thought it would be a tough road. But when I was 12, we visited my older cousin, and she told me, “You can be whatever you want. You have everything you need.” Now, when I speak to young people after a show, signing autographs, I tell them the same thing: “You have all the power in the world to be whatever you want.” If no one has ever told them that, their faces light up.
TH: Does Laredo have a comedy scene?
SV: It didn’t when I was coming up, but I’m so happy and proud that it does now. It’s called Laredo Funny. I love that the younger comedians are like, “Let’s do this!” I’ve performed in Laredo a few times in front of my own people and it’s amazing. I believe laughter is a release, like crying. When good comics speak, they tell truths and you learn something. We speak for people who can’t.
TH: What drew you to comedy?
SV: I majored in musical theater at UT, and after studying at the AMDA in New York, I moved to Boston. My partner at the time gifted me a stand-up comedy class—people always told me I was funny. That’s when I realized, “Oh, this is what doing stand-up comedy is? I do this naturally.” I didn’t take it seriously until I moved to LA in 2000. I do it all now: bands, acting, comedy. I’m multihyphenated, like a lot of creative people.
TH: You say you didn’t see much representation of Mexican Americans on TV growing up, let alone of gay women. What has your journey been like?
SV: I grew up in a conservative, Mexican, Catholic family. It didn’t even occur to me that I could be gay. At first, I thought I’d probably be like those women in a Charlotte Brontë novel who call their women friends “dearest.” And then it was, “Oh [expletive], I’m gonna be a nun!” I went to Catholic school my whole life. This is why representation matters—there were no gay women anywhere I could relate to. I decided, “No way, I’m not gonna be a nun!” I even became a born-again Christian in college, in part because the church had great music—they played Amy Grant! In reality, I was in denial about being gay and hid behind religion. Then I got to New York and was like, “Yeah, I’m gay.” It took a while, but once I was out, I was not going back in the closet. And this was in the late ’80s, so it was not widely accepted or celebrated to be out. I’ve been fighting the good fight ever since.
TH: Real Women Have Curves was originally a movie in 2002. Your character, Fulvia, wasn’t in the film. How did she come to exist in the musical?
SV: I got to develop her along with the playwrights Lisa Loomer and Nell Benjamin, whom I knew from Lisa’s play Roe, about the woman at the center of Roe v. Wade. I’d been cast as Jane Roe’s longtime partner for the Austin premiere at Zach Theater—who knew she was a lesbian? Three days into rehearsal, COVID shut us down. So my sister and I started hosting a live Facebook karaoke during the pandemic. Lisa tuned in and discovered I could sing—never begrudge your life, you don’t know where things will lead. In 2022, I was cast as Cousin No. 2. My character didn’t even have a name. During early rehearsals, she finally got a name, Fulvia, and Lisa and Nell allowed me to write some funny punchlines. It was such a privilege to be able to help create the role. Most of the characters in the play were developed this way, with the actors blending themselves into the roles.
TH: Did you speak with any undocumented people as part of the research for creating Fulvia?
SV: I grew up with undocumented people like Fulvia in Laredo—beautiful, hardworking people who learned the language and went back to school to build better futures for themselves. I saw the struggle and the gratitude daily.
TH: The show closed last June, despite good reviews and being nominated for two Tony Awards. What do you think audiences loved about the musical?
SV: It was relevant and empowering for women of all sizes, immigrants, mothers, and daughters. There is a scene in Act II that nearly always got a standing ovation. It’s really hot in the factory we’re working in because the fan is broken, and Ana suggests that everyone take their shirts off. She’s like, “We’re all women here, it doesn’t matter.” It’s so symbolic, stripping down to our underwear and saying, “This is who we are, look at us, get rid of the things that don’t serve you.” It’s a powerful, body positive moment.
TH: You are a role model for others now, but who have your role models been?
SV: Just regular people who are doing what they love to do. One of my earliest mentors was a teacher, Mrs. Dabdou. When I was in fifth grade she told me, “You’re gonna open the talent show.” I lip synced a song. I also get inspiration from fans. I had a follower write me recently, saying, “Thank you so much for representing Mexican lesbians onstage,” like Mexican lesbians were my idea. She said, “The fact that you were 59 for your Broadway debut helps me keep going with my dreams”—she was 56. Things like that motivate me.
TH: What’s next for you?
SV: There is talk of a national tour of Real Women Have Curves, and I really hope that happens. Not many people can afford the plane ticket to New York, the hotel, the theater ticket, the meals. I’m so grateful to every person in my life who made that effort to travel to New York, but to have the show come to a city near you would be amazing. I’m also working on a one-woman show about growing up in Laredo. When people think of Texas, they think of stereotypes like guns and yeehaws, but the border towns are left out. It’s a combination of the formalities of the South—the howdies and niceties—and our own storytelling and made-up words like Spanglish.
TH: What advice do you have for young people or for anyone who is a late bloomer in their career?
SV: Keep believing in yourself, keep connecting to yourself, and be persistent. I read somewhere that water creates a canyon not because it’s so powerful but because it’s consistent and keeps forging through. Young people think it’s going to come down to some huge moment, but I’ve found that every decision you make affects your path. I’m very spiritual—I’m Buddhist—and I have faith that because I’ve been given a gift the universe will help me use it. I live my life trusting it will work out, like when you’re driving at night and the headlights only shine a few feet in front of you. But you keep going, believing there will be more road ahead.
