Jade Phoenix is tapping into queer rage in her first short film, JAMIE.
By Jireh Deng
Writer. Actress. Filmmaker. No single label can constrain the artistic expression of Angeleno artist, Jade Phoenix. And it makes sense, when you’re trans, queer, and Filipinx, the stories you tell at the intersections of identity only multiply.
Now Jade is taking on the role of director in her newest short film JAMIE, about a transgender Filipinx woman who comes to reconcile with her family on the night of Manny Pacquiao’s last fight. Is there anything more Filipino or femme queer rage than the boxing ring?
When I joined Jade in Historic Filipinotown I had the pleasure of photographing her presence in the streets of Los Angeles. I was struck by the gentleness that shone through with her confidence, something I’m sure comes with her experiences as a parent.
Jade has had to continually defy expectations in order to bring her projects to life. But even with the no’s and rejections she’s faced on the journey to fund JAMIE, she describes how she’s been able to tap into the healing and catharsis that’s always been part of her creativity. For every no, there’s also been a yes from someone who recognizes Jade’s talent and vision – like the Basco family who’ve signed on as producers and actors, or the support of the Sundance award-winning production incubator Level Ground.
As we sat down for a meal in the nearby Tribal Cafe, we talked about JAMIE and more.
This conversation has been edited and shortened for clarity.
Jireh Deng: This film’s focus on Manny Paquiao feels so Filipino to me and I really resonate as a queer person with boxing being a source of power because martial arts is how I started feeling more comfortable in my body and gender.
Can you also talk a little bit about how you made choices for this film to be rooted in Los Angeles’ Historic Filipinotown and the Filipino American diaspora here?
Jade Phoenix: I set this film in Los Angeles because I'm from L.A., born and raised. This is my home.
The boxing part of it you hit on the head. When we think of the most famous Filipino, we're known for Manny Pacquiao. That's the one Filipino everyone knows. His fights were always an event, a reason to get together and have a party.
The fictionalized backstory of JAMIE is that my grandfather moves to America and starts a boxing studio. That’s the backdrop. Then we ground the film in an actual moment, Manny Pacquiao’s final fight.
“Is there anything more Filipino or femme queer rage than the boxing ring?”
And I agree with you about boxing, it was something that really helped me get into my body and feel empowered. I was getting into yoga, too, which was cool, but it's a little too soft. I need a little more rage and action, so boxing felt really good and I felt strong in my body. Putting all those elements together to set this story felt so right and natural.
Jireh Deng: I know that you’ve been hard at work producing JAMIE, but I would love to learn more about how you found your way to this project and where your artistry comes from.
Jade Phoenix: My art practice has always been rooted in my healing practice. I had a lot of trauma growing up as a queer child and in a conservative evangelical Christian home. I also lost my grandfather at a really young age and he was my first model for unconditional love. Both my parents worked and Lolo was the one that raised me — brought me to school, took me home, taught me how to ride my bike, how to tie my shoes, whistle all that.
So my art stemmed from having a lot of trauma, and then as I started getting older, from falling in love and another heartbreak. The first thing I did was write really shitty poetry. Then I got exposed to spoken word poetry and saw a lot of people in that space talking about their trauma. So art and healing are synonymous for me.
The first film I made was with my daughter called How to Make a Rainbow and it was a short doc about me and her in the early years of my transition over the course of two years. We did festivals, won an award at OutFest, and that's when I realized, “This is what I want, I want to make more movies.” It was always in my mind, what was going to be the next one? What's my short going to be?
I was going through my own personal journey, my own transition with my family. It took them a bit of time before they were able to accept me as a trans person. I had to make a lot of boundaries like you can't dead name me anymore. You can’t misgender me or I'm not going to come around. I had to make really strong boundaries around what I needed from them and how I wanted them to treat me and to love me. The film’s story comes from this place, and my personal experience of having a brother who bullied me, who had a hard time understanding my transition.
Initially, the film ended with a moment of rage at my brother. But then last year, my family took me to Palm Springs for my birthday and paid for the whole trip. It was the first time I felt unconditionally loved by my family. Even my brother was getting my pronouns right, and correcting himself if he made a mistake.
Suddenly, I realized my brother was figuring it out and the film’s ending just didn’t sit right with me anymore. If healing is possible, why not imagine it? So I rewrote the film in a way in which you see this possibility of reconciliation, understanding and forgiveness.
"My art practice has always been rooted in my healing practice."
〰️
"My art practice has always been rooted in my healing practice." 〰️
Jireh Deng: Your film started from a place of frustration, but you end this film on a note of reconciliation with family. Can you talk about how boxing is a vehicle for your rage? There’s so much violence towards transgender women of color and it’s really hard not to be angry.
Where does rage sit in your body throughout this film and how does it shift? I’m also thinking about how there are so many stereotypes about Asians being passive and model minorities. I find the anger in this film refreshing.
Jade Phoenix: I have not really been someone that has a lot of anger. It wasn't something that was easy for me to access. As I was making this film, it became a window for me to access it.
Rage is not the end, but it is important to be able to channel it right. Anger allows you to know that something is wrong or it alerts you that this isn't how things should be. In finally naming that rage and naming my anger around my family, I was able to understand my brother bullying me my whole life. I had to acknowledge that anger and that rage. I had to go through that to get to the point where we can heal. Conflict is a necessary part of the journey.
Jireh Deng: There’s that quote “You cannot have peace without justice.” That doesn’t just apply on a societal but also personal level.
Jade Phoenix: Yes, non-violence can often be a tool of white supremacy, to keep us from expressing our righteous rage to exist. In the same way, this film has elements of fighting and there's violence that happens on the way to healing and reconciliation.
When we are wronged, violence is done to us. When we are harmed, we are oppressed. I was thinking about being bullied by my brother. There were literally conversations where I said “I don't feel safe around you.” And he had no idea how because he had never hit me. It was so foreign to him that he had inflicted violence on me. It wasn’t until I named what he had done with my own rage that I was empowered to say it to him.
Jireh Deng: Funding an independent film isn’t easy, can you talk about the barriers you’ve faced trying to get recognition from within the Asian American community and the LGBTQ community?
"If healing is possible, why not imagine it?"
〰️
"If healing is possible, why not imagine it?" 〰️
Jade Phoenix: Even in LGBT communities, trans women of color usually end up with the fewest resources and opportunities. I applied for a grant with an organization that wants to support Asian, queer women. As a trans Filipino woman, it was really disheartening that I didn’t get it. How, then, am I going to get grants for the general public? Who's going to support this film and put their money where their mouth is when they talk about diversity, when they talk about wanting to support marginalized people.
I'm realizing the people who are attracted to this project are also women of color. It is great having a team of people who see me. Now the challenge is how are we as a team bringing our work out into the mainstream and garnering the support we know we deserve?
Jireh Deng: Right. I wanted to talk about your community partners. Level Ground produced the documentary Framing Agnes about transgender people in UCLA’s gender clinic in the 1950s. And you also have the juggernaut of the creative Hollywood powerhouse that is the Basco family. What’s it like working with them and bringing this dream to life?
Jade Phoenix: I sat on the script for almost two years. There was a part of me that was really scared to put it out. There was also a part of me that was writing it for shits and giggles, like this is never going to be real, you know?
But eventually I thought, I need to let people see this and immediately I thought of Level Ground. I worked with Samantha Curley on Framing Agnes and being on set with a very queer and trans crew and cast, I started to feel it was more possible. I shared it with Sam and a couple of weeks later, I jumped on a call with her and she’s like, “We would love to make this movie with you.” Level Ground was the first to jump on. My co-director, Tammy Sanchez, was also on from the jump because we're chosen family. Then as I was thinking about who would play my brother David, we started reaching out to people to try to get a connection with Dante Basco.
We sent it to Arianna Basco and she said, “Oh my god, I see my whole family in this. Let me share it with them.” Next thing you know, we're at a table read. It's been a whirlwind from there and now we're at a point where we have all these things in place.
Jireh Deng: It takes a lot to put yourself out there that way and trust that people will show up. It must have taken a lot of courage for this creative risk.
Jade Phoenix: It takes courage every day. There's still parts of me that want to quit. I'm afraid about what happens if it flops? What if we don't get funding? All these doubts in my mind still exist, they didn't go away but I just keep pushing. I have to keep going.
Yes, it takes a lot of courage to go out there and say, I'm making a movie and you're announcing to the world that you're trying something big. I've never directed a film. I've never acted in a film as a lead. So I'm putting myself on the line. And there's these doubts, that I'm a fraud. These are like the battles I have to have to fight every day.
It takes resilience and it takes a little bit of audacity to think you can make a movie and you're gonna raise money and you're going to get these people to star in it and we're going to take it to Sundance. It takes a lot of dreaming and believing in yourself.
Jireh Deng is a queer Asian American poet, filmmaker and multimedia journalist born and raised in the San Gabriel Valley of Los Angeles.