Strawberry Week (2026)

Why We Need More Summer Camp Movies

Watching Strawberry Week reminded me why I miss summer camp movies. It awakened the same feelings I grew up with in films like The Parent Trap, It Takes Two, and Camp Rock. Stories where camp became more than just a backdrop but a space for connection. It becomes a place where friendships are formed, confidence grows, and everyone at camp begins discovering who they are.

But beneath the nostalgic setting, Strawberry Week offers something deeper.

It reminds girls and women that we are never as alone as we think we are.

The Plot

Written and directed by Savannah Miller, Strawberry Week is a coming-of-age short set at an all-girls summer camp.

The story follows camp counselor Comet as she anxiously debates buying Plan B while waiting for her period. At the same time, she looks after one of her campers, who is navigating the confusion, embarrassment, and stigma surrounding menstruation for the first time without her mother or a strong female support system.

Rather than treating these experiences as punchlines or side plots, the film approaches them with empathy and honesty. It captures the awkwardness, fear, shame, curiosity, and uncertainty that often accompany the moment girls first begin learning what it means to become a "woman."

It acknowledges something many women remember all too well:

• Bleeding through your clothes.

• Wondering what happens if your period starts while you're swimming.

• Learning how to use a tampon.

• Trying to understand what your changing body means before you're emotionally ready.

These aren't unusual experiences. They are nearly universal. Yet they're still conversations many girls feel uncomfortable having, despite everyone seeming to have an opinion about them. Suddenly your body is viewed differently. People tell you how to dress, how to act, and what becoming "mature" is supposed to mean, often before you've had the chance to figure it out for yourself.

The Shame We Inherit

One of the things that resonated with me most is how Strawberry Week explores the emotional labor girls begin carrying long before adulthood. Many of us are taught to protect other people's feelings. To avoid making anyone uncomfortable. To quietly manage our own emotions so no one else has to.

Camp, however, becomes the opposite.It's a place where girls begin looking after one another. Where friendship becomes a form of education. Where vulnerability becomes an opportunity for connection rather than something to hide.

Throughout Strawberry Week, that sense of community quietly becomes the film's greatest strength.

My Story

While watching the film, I thought about something that happened to me recently. I went roller skating with my nephew wearing a white denim skirt. Under the rink's black lights everything glowed, and when we stopped to put on our skates, I unknowingly sat in spilled soda someone had left behind. As the stain spread across my skirt, several women and even a few young girls quietly pulled me aside.

"I think you've started your period," they whispered.

Even after I explained it wasn't blood, one woman offered me her sweater to tie around my waist.

Looking back, I'm genuinely grateful to every woman who came over. They weren't letting me go through what they believed was an embarrassing moment alone. Some laughed with me once they realized it was only a soda stain. Others still weren't convinced and insisted I should cover it anyway. Every reaction came from a place of familiarity with an experience so many women have either lived through or feared.

What surprised me most was the contrast. My nephew simply laughed with me at the situation. Most of the boys and men around us never approached me at all. A few looked, some laughed from a distance, and others even took out their phones, but none came over to ask if I was okay. A difference I noticed and continued to reflect on once I got home.

What struck me wasn't the stain. It was how quickly every woman recognized this stain as fear, shame, and embarrassment. We've been conditioned to worry about bleeding through our clothes before we even stop to ask what actually happened. No one questioned why someone had left a mess on the seat and that it hadn’t been cleaned up properly. Instead, everyone wanted to spare me the embarrassment they assumed I must be feeling.

Even though I knew it wasn't my period, I found myself feeling self-conscious simply because the stain looked like it could be. That realization stayed with me. It reminded me how deeply we've internalized the idea that menstruation is something to hide rather than something completely ordinary.And that's exactly why Strawberry Week matters.

Not because periods are embarrassing but because so many of us have been taught they should be.

The film gently challenges that idea. It reminds us that menstruation isn't something to whisper about or hide from. It's a shared experience, and the more openly we talk about it, the less power shame has over us. Plus it feels much better to laugh about it.

Behind the Scenes

Strawberry Week was filmed over just four to five days in late August 2025, bringing together an almost entirely female cast and crew. Aside from one father chaperoning one of the young actresses, the set was entirely women-led, creating an environment that reflected the very community the film portrays on screen. We love seeing what a films advocating for in front of put into practice behind the scenes .

When I spoke with producers Joelle Westwood and Mia Lastrella, they shared that between takes the cast made friendship bracelets, swapped stories, and formed genuine friendships. According to the filmmakers, the set itself began to feel like summer camp.

Joelle also told me that working with such a young cast unexpectedly shaped the creative process. As filming progressed, scenes evolved alongside the performers, allowing the emotional themes to deepen naturally and making the story feel even more authentic.

One of my favorite conversations when we were discussing the behind-the-scenes with producers Joelle and Mia, came from young actress Bianca. After visiting Uruguay before filming wrapped, she handcrafted ceramic strawberry bowls for members of the cast and crew, delivering each one. It's a small gesture, but one that perfectly captures the kindness, community, and lasting friendships that Strawberry Week celebrates.

Sometimes the most memorable part of making a film isn't just what ends up on screen. It's the community that's created while telling the story.

Partnering with Aunt Flow

Strawberry Week also partnered with the woman-owned company Aunt Flow, whose mission is to improve access to menstrual products while helping reduce the stigma surrounding periods.

The partnership feels like a natural extension of the film's purpose. Rather than simply telling an important story, Strawberry Week is helping create conversations beyond the screen. Through screenings like with Aunt Flow’s NYC Period Party, educational partnerships, and community outreach, the film demonstrates how independent cinema can become a tool for advocacy as much as entertainment. Creating conversations about reproductive health more open, informed, and accessible.

It's a reminder that independent films don't have to end when the credits roll. Sometimes their greatest impact comes from the communities they build, the discussions they inspire, and the real-world change they encourage.

Why Stories Like This Matter

One of the reasons I was so excited to watch Strawberry Week is because it perfectly reflects the kind of filmmaking Western Star Entertainment continues to champion.

Rather than chasing trends or algorithms, they're investing in emerging filmmakers with meaningful stories to tell. And finding voices that haven't necessarily had their breakthrough moment yet but deserve to be heard.

It's also easy to imagine Strawberry Week finding a life beyond the festival circuit. This is the kind of film I could see being shown in classrooms, youth programs, community centers, and community screenings to spark conversations that many people still struggle to have openly. Its impact reaches far beyond entertainment, creating space for education, empathy, and honest discussion. I could see its story being expanded with more conversations on menstruation, navigating friendships and battling gossip.

Watching Strawberry Week, it's impossible not to admire how much heart and intention went into creating something so intimate with relatively modest resources.

Small budgets.

Long hours.

Big ideas.

That's the reality of independent filmmaking.

The film reminds us that meaningful cinema doesn't require blockbuster budgets. Sometimes all it takes is a story that makes someone feel seen, understood, or a little less alone. Perhaps that's Strawberry Week's greatest achievement.It doesn't claim to have all the answers. It doesn't pretend growing up is easy. Instead, it reminds us that nearly every woman has carried some version of these fears—and that by talking about them openly, we begin to replace shame with understanding and isolation with community.

If this is the future of independent coming-of-age storytelling, I hope it's only the beginning. I'd happily welcome more summer camp films that capture not only the nostalgia of growing up, but the quiet conversations that help us grow into ourselves.

Written by: Savannah Miller and Hannah Meyers

Directed by: Savannah Miller

Produced by: Western Star Entertainment founders Joelle Westwood and Mia Lastrella