After more than five decades shaping American childhood, Sonia Manzano admits she’s still getting used to the idea of seeing her own life reflected back at her. The beloved actress, writer, and trailblazer — known to generations as Maria on Sesame Street — is the subject of the new documentary Street Smart: Lessons from a TV Icon, directed by Ernie Bustamante. The film premiered at Doc NYC and will be released more widely in 2026, giving audiences a look at the woman behind one of television’s most enduring characters.
Watching it for the first time proved unexpectedly emotional. “I have a sense of myself. I know who I am,” she tells Gold Derby. “But it’s still interesting to see how others view you. I learned a lot from that documentary. I learned how impatient I am. And hearing that someone found me intimidating? I still think I’m just that kid from the Bronx.”
Bustamante first approached Manzano years ago, when he tried adapting her memoir into a television series. When pitch meetings stalled, he refused to let the idea go. “He just does not stop,” she says with a laugh. “He prevails. I thought, a documentary about me? But he did all the work.” After years of incremental fundraising and slow-build filmmaking, Street Smart finally came to life.
The documentary traces her journey from a turbulent childhood in the South Bronx to the High School of Performing Arts, to Carnegie Mellon, and finally to Sesame Street at just 21 years old. But Manzano’s earliest understanding of storytelling came from the television she used as an escape. “There were great stories on TV at that time,” she recalls, pointing to the orderly worlds of Father Knows Best and Leave It to Beaver. “I loved the calmness of those shows in contrast to my chaotic world. And you learn story structure, but you also learn things by omission. I wondered, where were the Native Americans in Gunsmoke? And where was I going to fit into that world?”
That question — where do I fit? — became the engine behind a barrier-breaking career. As the first Latina with a regular role on national television, Manzano didn’t just represent visibility; she became emotional infrastructure for millions of viewers. “Sometimes I think of myself as the invisible celebrity,” she says. “People look at me and think, ‘Did she teach me? Did I go to school with her?’ They still call me Maria. I didn’t fill the role of Maria — I exposed myself more and more, and that became Maria.”
Representation remains central to Manzano’s mission, but the landscape around her has shifted dramatically. With the rise of animation-heavy programming and budget cuts hitting public broadcasting, she worries about who gets left behind. “I think defunding PBS is a symptom of the very cruel society we live in,” she says bluntly. “It’s almost cruelty for its own sake. Helping somebody is seen as something to get rid of. PBS is a kind thing. Let’s get rid of it.”
That concern extends to the changing home of Sesame Street, which now streams primarily through Netflix. For someone whose childhood was shaped by television’s accessibility, the shift raises questions about equity and connection. “Everything is animation now. There are almost no humans in children’s entertainment anymore,” she says. She believes the erosion of public media and the shift toward subscription-based services could undermine the very kids Sesame Street set out to reach.
Even within that evolving landscape, Manzano continues creating work that centers authenticity. After retiring from Sesame Street, she launched a second act as the creator of PBS’ Alma’s Way, now headed into its third season. The series, set in the Bronx and focused on a Puerto Rican family, encourages kids to think for themselves. When heading up the writers room, she remembers lessons she took from Sesame Street legend Jim Henson. “When he wasn’t happy, he’d say, ‘I think we can do this better,’” she recalls. “It was a wonderful way of criticizing something while allowing it to flourish. I use that now with my writers.”
Manzano’s writing career began when she questioned the Sesame Street‘s early Latino representation. Producer Dulcy Singer challenged her to improve it, handing her the curriculum book and asking, “Why don’t you try writing it yourself?” “I understood their mission better after that,” she says. “Then I got on board helping them with my more sincere and appropriate Latino content.”
Throughout her 44 years on the show, Manzano earned 15 Emmys for writing, along with a Lifetime Achievement Award. She keeps the trophies scattered around her home, unceremoniously visible in Zoom backgrounds, but the emotion behind them remains intact. “Seeing my name on an office door at the Children’s Television Workshop — that was when I thought, I’ve really arrived. I’m a real writer.”
In Street Smart, luminaries like Sonia Sotomayor and Stephen Schwartz speak about her influence. Their praise still surprises her. “Even though I know I’m great,” she says with a grin, “it’s still surprising and nice.”
As the conversation winds down, Manzano returns to a core idea that shaped everything from Sesame Street to Alma’s Way: human connection. When asked what today’s kids most need to see, she doesn’t hesitate. “Humans. They need to see humans interacting.”
In a world where children’s media shifts faster than ever — and public broadcasting faces existential threats — Street Smart arrives as both a celebration and a warning. By the time it reaches wider audiences in 2026, its message may feel even more urgent. For generations, Manzano was the human connection children saw on screen. In many ways, she still is.
