Christina Antonakos-Wallace is a filmmaker and cultural organizer. Her short films and interactive work has been exhibited in over a dozen countries, in contexts from schools to festivals galleries to corporations. She was a Fellow at Hedgebrook in 2017 and the Port Townsend Film Festival in 2015. Her work was recognized with a five-year MTV Fight For Your Rights Scholarship in 2002, and a Humanity in Action Fellowship in 2006, which she completed at the United Nations High Commission on Refugees in Berlin. “From Here” is her first feature-length documentary.

“From Here” will screen in the New York edition of the 2020 Human Rights Watch Film Festival. This year’s fest has gone digital due to COVID-19, and runs June 11- 20. You can find more information on the fest’s website. 

W&H: Describe the film for us in your own words.

CAW: “From Here” brings a global perspective to conversations around immigration that often remain very narrow. Set in two of the world’s biggest immigration countries, the U.S. and Germany, the film follows Tania, Sonny, Miman, and Akim, each children of immigrants from very different backgrounds who are all fighting racism and xenophobia through their art and activism.

The film accompanies them from their 20s into their 30s as they face major life turning points, and confront their own sense of belonging to countries and communities that treat them as outsiders. Over a decade of filming allowed us to capture not only personal milestones, like the birth of a first child, but also several political administrations and major changes in immigration policy.

“From Here” is a very intimate film that digs into the big question of identity and what it means to belong. 

W&H: What drew you to this story?

CAW: As we know, people at the margins and in-between spaces often possess a perspective that those who are centered cannot see. I chose to tell the stories of Tania, Miman, Akim, and Sonny because each of them had powerful insight into our national narratives of immigration and who does and doesn’t belong that I believe we need.

“From Here” is a film that wove together many of my own life experiences. I was raised in the Greek-American community and Orthodox Church and became an activist for racial and gender justice in high school. I spent my teenage years struggling with how to reconcile my own identities, and what relationship my traditions had to my desire to help build a more racially just future.

This journey took me to live in Greece for six months. The country was experiencing a large rise in xenophobia against Albanians at the time. In that context, I had the surprising experience of being asked to leave from several places for being an Albanian immigrant — essentially an invader in my own “motherland.”

Meanwhile, when I got back to the U.S., we were experiencing a massive movement for immigrant rights in response to the restrictive 2005 Sensenbrenner Immigration Bill. I had lived through 9/11 in New York City, and witnessed the way immigration had been manipulated into a national security issue. Politicians in Europe and the U.S. described having an immigration crisis, but what I saw were parallel crises over national identity.

These experiences plunged me deep into an exploration of how national identities and citizenship is constructed, culture is understood, and the realities of global migration. I returned to the U.S. convinced that if we wanted to work towards the multi-racial democracies we aspire towards, we needed to dig much deeper into the fears about demographic change and ultimately, cultivating belonging for all.

I wanted to create a film that would contribute to the large narrative shift, and I knew that young people who were at the crosshairs of these racist debates would have the vision and insight we need.

W&H: What do you want people to think about after they watch the film?

CAW: For one, I want people to feel in their bodies the truth that all of us belong — and the desire to fight for that for themselves, their loved ones, and neighbors close and far. This most certainly includes demanding dignity for immigrants, refugees, and those perceived as foreign, which has undeniably been tied to race in much of the world. I also want this film to touch those who do not recognize themselves as being connected to issues of immigration to feel how all our futures are interdependent — that the right of humans to both move and create home is an urgent part of our collective liberation. 

Second, Tania, Sonny, Miman, and Akim share their lives on screen in a way that reveals not only the injustice of our current systems, but also the possibilities to be agents of change within these limiting systems. I made this film for people who were struggling with their sense of identity and belonging — so the most important thing for me is that the film breaks the isolation that comes from living in societies that are full of both rigid ideas of identity and belonging, and racist representations and policies.

W&H: What was the biggest challenge in making the film?

CAW: The biggest challenge in making “From Here” was in the edit — which is also part of what made editing so exciting and satisfying when we got it right. First off, everyone will tell you that once you have more than three protagonists, things start to get dicey. We had four.

Adding to that, we had to find a narrative structure to weave together these very different individuals through themes and poetic moments, as opposed to people in shared spaces, activities, or relationships. As the film accompanies our protagonists over many years, it was incredibly complex to allow their plots to unfold — and honor the specifics of each story — but arrived at one arc that brought us to the question of belonging.

Moreover, as each of the four protagonists come from very underrepresented and very different communities, we had to find what was the least amount of exposition needed for people to be able to feel and follow their journeys, but not be overwhelmed with information.

The edit took a long time. We ended up not just shuffling scenes around, but editing the characters separately and putting them back together three times over several years. It was a tremendous learning experience.

W&H: How did you get your film funded? Share some insights into how you got the film made.

CAW: Getting funding for this project was incredibly difficult. As a first-time feature director without a well-known producer or EP on my team, I think industry gatekeepers simply didn’t want to take the risk on a project as abstract and ambitious as this one. We were almost all women working on the team, and at some point, I also really started to notice how few women-led films were getting granted and awarded. You never know what the relationship is between these things, but it is disappointing. 

The funding we were able to raise was a combination of crowdfunding campaigns, generous private donors — mostly women — smaller community foundations, parties, and a lot of creativity. But money is not what made this film happen — it was an incredible team of collaborators in the U.S. and Germany who donated an incalculable amount of time and heart.

W&H: What inspired you to become a filmmaker?

CAW: I first realized that documentary filmmaking could be my path when I saw experimental, lesbian filmmaker Barbara Hammer speak at an event in New York. I approached her and became her intern. At the time, I was undertaking two non-film degrees — one in fine art and one in social and political theory, and I realized the potential of creative documentaries to bring these ways of working together. I had already been working with photography and video art for some years, as well as other media, so the transition to filmmaking seemed like a natural evolution. But I had a tremendous amount to learn. 

I love how many art forms are part of the filmmaking process — we get to work with composition, color, movement, narrative, sound, music, writing, and time. I love how powerful the editing process is, and how narrative works inside of us in such a deep way to make meaning. I love that in the making of documentaries you can build very deep relationships, dive into research, and discover new worlds. I love how films are best experienced communally, and the making is necessarily collaborative. These things spoke to my artistic and political sensibilities.

W&H: What’s the best and worst advice you’ve received?

CAW: One piece of advice I received was perhaps the best and worst piece of advice at once. My first year in the project a veteran from the industry said, “Don’t bother applying for grants. They are a waste of time. You are better off putting it on your credit cards.” I was pretty shocked and offended, although I didn’t show it. There was a real structural obstacle to her advice — I certainly didn’t have enough credit to put an entire film on my card. But there was some wisdom in her sentiment that I didn’t understand — that I would be better off investing the time in actually making work instead of navigating the foundation process.

We know most foundations typically grant far fewer than 10 percent of applicants. Not to mention, you are competing with filmmakers who already have won two Emmys and are friends with the program officer. Making films is so expensive that many of us spend years raising the money for projects that could have been completed by the time we pull together the first money.

I am still looking for collaborative ways of working that allow us to spend more energy in the creative process.

W&H: What advice do you have for other female directors?

CAW: Women have unequivocally been my greatest collaborators and supporters. I am so grateful for the willingness of women to commit ourselves to projects and relationships that we believe in deeply, even when that means working for free.

That said, I strongly believe that women directors must work to build up other women and people who are marginalized in this field overall. When there is money, spend it on hiring women and trans people, people of color, people with disabilities, queer people, mothers, etc. If we want to see more diversity in who is leading our field, we need to give each other real opportunities. 

W&H: Name your favorite woman-directed film and why.

CAW: One of many favorite woman-directed films is “Mosquita y Mari” by Aurora Guerrero. It is a subtle and beautiful coming-of-age film that addresses so many complex themes through the tender relationship of two Chicana teenagers. I was lucky to see the film when it had its NY theatrical premiere, and I remember the energy in the room when the lights came up. So many in the audience saw themselves on the screen that night, and were overwhelmed with appreciation for the filmmakers. 

W&H: How are you adjusting to life during the COVID-19 pandemic? Are you keeping creative, and if so, how?

CAW: While challenging, the isolation of COVID-19 feels pretty familiar to chapters of working as an independent director and freelance editor. I have been lucky to have my health; however, it has been deeply disappointing for many reasons, including our inability to screen “From Here” to live audiences.

Besides re-planning our impact and distribution plan for “From Here,” my primary creative outlet right now is in writing — I am enjoying a daily ritual. 

W&H: Recent protests in the U.S. and abroad have highlighted racism and anti-Black police brutality. The film industry has a long history of underrepresenting people of color onscreen and behind the scenes and reinforcing — and creating — negative stereotypes. What actions do you think need to be taken to make Hollywood and/or the doc world more inclusive?

CAW: There is an enormous amount of change needed in the film world to address racism — and my ideas are by no means exhaustive. I support all calls for representation of people of color at every level of production — from executives to union craftspeople. That will be an enormous step, but it is just a start.

Filmmaking is an industry, and it operates inside of a capitalist system. If money and status are the primary levers in what is made, we will continue to see films and media that reproduce racist ideas rather than challenge them. We need to embrace the value of anti-racism, and also have a larger vision of social transformation. 

To change narratives, film teams need to be willing to collaborate with non-filmmakers. We need to involve community leaders, narrative change strategists, social psychologists, and many others. The unspoken reality of film like many other art fields is that people rely on personal relationships and family wealth or to break in. This makes filmmaking unreachable for so many people of color, as well as other marginalized and underrepresented communities. We need public arts and film funds!

One easy final thought is that the film industry needs to stop treating the white audiences as the neutral, default audiences, especially for documentaries. Funders, investors, and programmers need to be willing to take risks — both in filmmakers of color, and on projects that aim to serve audiences of color.