Nanfu Wang is an award-winning Chinese filmmaker based in the U.S. whose latest film, Night is Not Eternal, a documentary about activist Rosá Maria Payá, is now streaming on HBO and Max. Her feature documentaries include Hooligan Sparrow (Sundance 2016), I Am Another You (SXSW 2017, Special Jury Prize winner), and One Child Nation (Sundance 2019, Grand Jury Prize Winner). Wang was awarded the 2020 MacArthur Genius Grant, and has received four Emmy nominations, was shortlisted for two Academy Awards for her films, and is a recipient of the Independent Spirit Award, the Peabody Award, the George Polk Award, Cinema Eye Honor awards, and an IDA award. In her films, Wang creates intimate character studies that examine the impact of authoritarian governance, corruption, and lack of accountability on the lives of individuals and the well-being of communities. She currently teaches cinematography and editing at New York University.
The Promise of Freedom
From an early age, I knew that I loved storytelling. When I was in my 20s, after getting a master’s degree in English literature from Shanghai University, I got an administrative office job, also at the university. It was stable, and most people in the office had worked there for five to 15 years. But three months into my job, I realized that it wasn’t something I’d like to do for my whole life. I wanted to write, to tell stories, to be meaningfully engaged with the world, and to actively live. I thought about what type of jobs would allow me to make a living as a writer and storyteller. There were not many options; one of them was journalism. After sending out many applications for reporting positions and being told that I lacked the requisite credentials, I decided to go back to university to study journalism. I chose to apply to graduate schools in America instead of China, because my understanding was that America was a country with a free press and free speech. Like many others on the outside looking in, America appeared to me as a symbol of freedom.
Coming to America
I came to the U.S. in 2011. I was 26 years old, and it was the first time I had ever left China.
I had no money, so I was very fortunate to receive a full scholarship, plus a monthly stipend, to study at Ohio University. My major was Media Studies, a very theoretical program in which there was no practical instruction in skills such as reporting, interviewing or writing. I ended up reaching out to many instructors outside of my program, begging them to allow me to sit in on their classes, such as photojournalism 101, TV production 101, video editing 101, introduction to writing and introduction to documentary. Being in those classrooms, a harsh reality became clear: as a 26-year-old, I had significantly less knowledge and fewer skills than most of the 18-year-old college freshmen. This feeling of inadequacy was overwhelming. But a very special teacher from my program, perhaps recognizing this feeling, encouraged me: “You can do anything. You just need to decide what it will be.” I remember thinking: So this is what freedom feels like?
Hooligan Sparrow (2016)
In 2012, after graduating from Ohio University, I came to New York to study documentary. For my thesis project, I went back to China to make a 30-minute film. It would later become Hooligan Sparrow, my first feature. Between 2014 and 2015, I was working two part-time jobs while trying to finish the film. I submitted one grant application after another, and each rejection brought more despair until I began to doubt my chosen career. By some miracle, the film finally was awarded its first grant by the Sundance Institute, after I submitted a cold application through their online submission system. I was filled with gratitude and renewed hope, both for the film and for the future of my work. I thought to myself that this could never have happened in China, where such an opportunity would have depended on special connections and relationships.
I Am Another You (2017)
It was during my first time in Florida that I met Dylan Olsen, who would become the subject of my second film. I was attracted to the idea of total freedom and saw Dylan – a young man who chose homelessness – as an embodiment of freedom. I wanted to see what his style of living was like and lived on the streets with him, eating out of garbage cans, sleeping in parks and under bridges. What felt like a worry-free life soon revealed all the issues that only living through it would expose: drug addiction, mental and physical illness, deprivation, poverty. The “total freedom” I had sought to experience and document with Dylan turned out to be a revealing journey through social problems that I, as an outsider, had not experienced until then.
One Child Nation (2019)
My third film was about China’s One Child Policy, and the film featured doctors who carried out procedures on women who were forced to have abortions and sterilizations. American audiences often expressed horror at these women’s situations. When pro-life organizations reached out to screen the film at their events, I declined, struck by what seemed to be a blind spot in their perspective – whether a state mandates or prohibits abortions, both actions represent government control over women’s bodies and reproductive autonomy. This realization marked my first insight that these two countries might share more similarities than their apparent ideological differences suggested.
While making this film, my own first child was born in America. Becoming a mother changed the way I saw the country where I was living. Until this moment, I had a casual relationship with America. But my son was Chinese American. Once I had a child here, the relationship became permanent and irrevocable. I became involved in this country’s future.
In the Same Breath (2021)
When Donald Trump won the presidency in 2016, I found myself deeply unsettled, struggling to reconcile how a significant portion of Americans could align with his rhetoric and worldview. I grappled with a fundamental question: Had the nation that proudly called itself a “melting pot” been masking a deeper antipathy toward immigrants like myself?
Then the pandemic happened, and I saw how the government mishandled its response to the Covid-19. Many American leaders seemed more preoccupied with protecting themselves politically than facing the harsh realities of the unfolding public health disaster. And in the spaces of America’s supposed free and open public discourse, disinformation and misinformation spread as quickly as the virus itself.
I watched as protesters gathered to oppose public health measures, waving “Freedom” banners with conviction. Their interpretation of liberty left me profoundly perplexed – how could their conception of freedom feel so fundamentally at odds with my own understanding? And what does it reveal about our society when such a core American value carries such divergent meanings for different groups of citizens?
Night is Not Eternal (2024)
I started Night is Not Eternal in 2016, driven by a question of how change would be possible in authoritarian countries such as Cuba and China. However, as I delved deeper into the project, the shifting landscape of global politics challenged my preconceptions about democratic systems. I found myself grappling with an unexpected paradox: How could pro-democracy activists from China and Cuba align themselves with Trump, a figure whose leadership style often seemed to echo the very authoritarian tendencies they opposed?
In 2022, while making this film, I became an American citizen. My relationship with this country has evolved profoundly since my arrival 13 years ago – from temporary visitor to permanent resident, and finally to citizen. Yet I’ve noticed an interesting pattern: the deeper my connection to America grew, the more clearly I could see its imperfections, alongside a strengthening desire to see it improve. This transformation is reflected in my filmmaking journey.
James Baldwin’s words resonate deeply with my experience: “I love America more than any other country in the world and, exactly for this reason, I insist on the right to criticize her perpetually.” This sentiment mirrors my relationship with China, and as my bonds with America deepen, I find myself adopting this same approach here – caring deeply while staying aware of what could be improved.
After all, I think the two countries might not be as drastically different as I once thought.
