At David’s age, I so badly wanted Campbell’s chicken noodle soup to cure my colds instead. When David complains that his grandma “smells like Korea” and demands to know why she doesn’t bake cookies like real grandmas do, I stifle guilty chuckles, remembering the scent of a-mah’s old clothes, mothballs and the wet market offerings of southern Taiwan.

The differences in our experiences have resulted in a complicated relationship between Black and Asian Americans. At its best, our bond as POC’s could easily be described as a force to be reckoned with. At its worst, our differences are weaponized by the guardians of white supremacy resulting in some gnarly shit on both sides of the racial aisle. Yea dude, it’s #complicated. This is why I think media, specifically film, is such an important tool for fostering a collective understanding.

In these past few years, we’ve come a long way, with increased attention on social justice for black, brown, and indigenous bodies. I understand that this is a MOMENT! It deserves celebration! But as we throw our hands in the air and rejoice in the progress, I can’t help but notice that my poor arms are exhausted and sore from years of throwing my fists in the air in protest and swatting down microaggressions. As a half-Black, half-Japanese woman living in America looking towards the future, it’s important I remind myself that it’s okay to prioritize joy in the face of racial adversity that seeks to grind us down. Not only is it okay–it’s crucial.